And then he’s kissing me. Full body, open-mouthed kissing me in the Tappy basement. I’ve cried on this basement floor. I’ve thrown up on this basement floor. We’re about five feet away from where I’m seventy-two percent certain Grace may have had sex on this basement floor. By the time he pulls away, she’s gone. “Warn me next time?” I ask him. “She wouldn’t go away,” he defends unnecessarily. “You don’t need an excuse to kiss me.” “If I didn’t need excuses, I don’t think I’d ever stop.” He presses his lips to mine once more.
