“No, no I—” She moved. She was near. “I’ve been kissed by boys I didn’t want to kiss, in the past. That’s all, that’s all I wanted…” She trailed off. “How,” Isabel started, “how can you know?” “Know?” “If you want. Or if you, if you’re…” “Well… Well, sometimes you just know, of course, and sometimes you have to try, and then you know.” Isabel turned her face away. She was sure it was flaming. Isabel did not know what that meant at all: what it was to know, of course. “You should just let him,” Eva said. “Next time he tries. Find out.”
