583495793235

RESEARCH
TWENTY-FOUR HOURS LATER, kissing is all I think about. I see the words imagine what
a kiss would do whenever I close my eyes. At some point it occurs to me that I don’t
know anything about kissing. Of course, I’ve read about it. I’ve seen enough kissing in
movies to get the idea. But I’ve never pictured myself as a kissee, and certainly not a
kisser.
Carla says we’re probably OK to see each other again today, but I decide to wait a couple
more days. She doesn’t know about the touch on my ankle, the holding hands, the almostshared
breath. I should tell her, but I don’t. I’m afraid she’ll stop our visits. Another lie to
add to my growing count. Olly’s now the only person in my life that I haven’t lied to.
Forty-eight hours post-touch and I’m still feeling fine. I sneak peeks at my charts when
Carla’s not looking. Blood pressure, pulse, and temperature all seem OK. No early
warning signs in sight.
My body goes a little haywire when I imagine kissing Olly, but I’m pretty sure that’s
just lovesickness.