Meanwhile, Mark had sat through the whole ride home in the back seat of my mom’s Jag with a megawatt smile on his face. “Kissing is freakin’ awesome,” he said later. And then he went on to date Jenny for six months. It wasn’t until a few years later that I figured out the bitter jealousy I’d felt over it had little to do with Jenny or Sarah, and even less to do with some dumb but persistent sense of competition with Mark. Mark slid his hands into his pockets and cocked his head at me with the quieter, but no less magnetic, version of that long-ago smile as I coasted into the student housing
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