And without skipping a beat, Blake calls out, “Bingo!”
I stop breathing as she reads her card off, all of us watching as she heads up to the front of the room to claim her basket. I watch as she walks down the row, stopping short in front of the basket I spent hours putting together.
Two Bingo Boogie cards. Lay’s chips, a package of Skittles, sour gummy worms, and a Hershey’s chocolate bar, the snacks she bought at the gas station on the way to our beach trip. A dishwashing glove. Her lifeguard sweatshirt, perfectly folded at the bottom. A tin of Spam. And, in the exact center, a list that reads:
EMILY CLARK’S SENIOR YEAR BUCKET LIST
Tell Blake how I feel.
Go to a St. Vincent concert.
Take a trip to NYC.
Go on a college road trip.
Make kulolo.
Go to prom.
Make a plan for life after high school.
Eat meat loaf at Hank’s.
Go to all of Blake’s soccer games.
Spend a week at Aunt Lisa’s beach house.
Plan a Senior Skip Day adventure.
Kiss B. C.
Things we talked about doing on the way to the beach. That we talked about all summer. That I want to do with her, and no one else, by my side.
And then, right there, in front of all of Huckabee, I get up from the table and walk right up to her. I reach out and grab her hand, and she turns around to face me, the entire room disappearing around us. Her eyes are wide, her mouth falling slightly open.
“I’m sorry, Blake,” I say softly. Then, like I’m launching myself off the biggest cliff in the entire world, I tell her what I’ve wanted to say since that night at the beach. Since she told me how she felt the night of the bonfire. “For not being brave enough to admit that I like you.”
She swallows, giving me a look that sends butterflies scattering across my chest, everything about her, and this, and us, feeling right. The list leading me to this moment.
To her.
“Blake. I really like you,” I say. “I like you a lot. I like your eyes, and how you smell like a day at the beach, and how you make me feel like I can do just about anything. I like that you paint these insane pictures, and that you make the world seem so much bigger than here, than Huckabee. I like that you give me butterflies, butterflies that I never even knew were possible, just by looking at me the way you are right now. The way you have this entire summer. You make me want to go on a million adventures, like… like…” I lean past her to pull the piece of paper out of the basket. “Like all of these things. And so many more, Blake. That I want to do. With you.”
She looks down at the list, and then back up at me, and then… she smiles. That smile that knocked me off my feet at the very first bingo night. That smile that is in every one of my memories from this summer.
She takes a step forward, her hand reaching out to touch my waist, sending a shock of electricity through my whole body.
“Can I ki—”
The words aren’t even out of her mouth before I pull her closer. And… it’s everything I never knew a kiss could be. Her lips are soft and warm and absolute magic, all the voices and the other people fading away, like there’s nothing else in this world but us. And I don’t count down to anything at all.
We pull apart and I hear a “Whoop!” from across the room, both of us turning to see Kiera at the back table, grinning like it’s Christmas morning, Jake letting out a wolf whistle, Olivia and Ryan clapping just behind them. I meet Matt’s gaze and he gives me a smile and a small nod, the best ex-boyfriend a girl could ask for.
Then Jim Donovan’s voice rings out from just behind us on the stage. He must’ve crept onto it while everyone else was distracted. I brace myself for the worst.
“They rigged the game!” he screams into the microphone, picking up a tiny piece of paper with the numbers I’d told Olivia to give to her mom. He waves it madly around in the air, all hell breaking loose in the cafetorium.
Tyler Poland launches his lucky rocks at us as Jim catapults himself off the stage in our direction.
I grab Blake’s hand, our fingers lacing together. “Run!”
We bolt for the back doors, Matt holding them open for us, all of us laughing as we fly through the parking lot, running in between the parked cars, the wind tugging at our hair as our shoes slap against the pavement.
Blake looks back at me with that mischievous smile that completely upended my world for the better. She looks ahead and so do I, as she pulls me forward along with her, everything clicking perfectly into place in exactly the way that my mom always talked about. A way that makes me feel…
Well.
Lucky.
Acknowledgments
My solo debut! I have a mountain of thanks to give to all of the people who helped this book land in your hands today.
First, I am eternally grateful to my amazing editor, Alexa Pastor, who is undoubtedly the absolute best there is. This book was crafted, start to finish, during a GLOBAL PANDEMIC, and it would definitely still be an amorphous blob stuck in draft #1 if it weren’t for Alexa. That can probably be said for all my books, past and future.
Thank you to Justin Chanda, Julia McCarthy, Kristie Choi, and the rest of the team at Simon & Schuster. It is a true gift to know that my books are in such great hands.
To my incredible agent, Emily van Beek, at Folio Literary, for supporting me and my writing. I have so much gratitude for you, and I am beyond
