“Oh, she did,” he says with a wry smile, “but she didn’t care about that; she’s always figured. It was everyone else knowing it that was where she drew the line. Somehow she figured out a song about having patience and being in it for the long haul was … not about me and her, and she did not appreciate my singing it publicly.”

Now it’s my turn to say “Oh.”

That song. That gorgeous song. Our song. Hot damn.

“Yeah. It didn’t exactly make me feel optimistic when you ran out after hearing it,” he says with a low laugh. “And I knew I was an asshole for singing it. I hadn’t planned to. But then you did that ridiculous card-trick show and you were just so … I had to.”

“Of all things to trigger it.” I bury my face in his shoulder, smothering my laugh in the flannel. “That stupid talent show. God. I heard you singing that song, and I thought it was for Jenna, and it also reminded me of Craig and Sierra, and Lucas, and I couldn’t stand it. That’s why I ran out. But for what it’s worth”—I look up, meeting his affectionate gaze with mine—“it was extremely hot.”

“Was it now?”

“It really, really was. Like, irritatingly hot. Taking the rock-star cliché just a little too far. Ten out of ten would throw my bra onstage.”

That low laugh again, warm against my ear, tingling down to my toes. “Would also accept that lace thing you bought at the mall. I am a big fan of that lace thing. That lace thing is at least sixty-nine percent responsible for my poor decision-making at the talent show.”

“Noted,” I say with a wicked little grin that has him biting the corner of his mouth. “So now you know everything.” I rest my chin on his shoulder. “You still wanna be with me? This is your last call to bail. After this, you’re required by law to be on my side for everything.”

“That’s the dating law, huh?”

“I mean, I only have an incredibly awful dating history, but I’m pretty sure that’s how it works.”

“Okay then.”

“Okay?” I look up at him, imagining hope shining in my eyes making me look like a Disney character.

His lips curve into a smile. “Okay. I’m on your side for everything, Peach.”

“You’re really sticking with ‘Peach’?”

“Feels like one should probably not call the girl he’s kissing ‘Skeevy,’ but I can go back to that if—”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Truthfully, “Peach” has kinda grown on me.

And then another thought hits, and I drop my gaze down to my hands. “I really, really hate that you’re not my first kiss here.”