My hand snaps to my neck, but it’s too late. Fuck. I think there was maybe a moment where Miles was kissing around my neck, but only for a second. I touch the mark, but it doesn’t hurt.

“Oh,” I say, my cheeks burning. “Yeah. About that…”

Neither of them says anything. I swallow, turning to the pantry and raiding the box of Oreos. The fact that neither one of them is talking is worse than a lecture. I normally don’t mind sharing stuff, but this is a completely different playing field. I don’t know how to talk about boys without freaking them out. Hell, I’m freaking out. If they noticed, I’m sure the note-leaver will notice, too, if they’re watching me so closely. And who’s to say that creep wasn’t at the park today? It’s like I’m not free to do anything I want, anything that would make me feel good. I suck in a deep breath. My hands are shaking.

“So, is it official?” Dad folds his arms. “Are you seeing this boy now?”

“I don’t know if we’re seeing each other, exactly,” I say, which is the truth. I turn to face them, but neither one appears amused. “But I like to kiss him. And we talk about musicals. We watched one together on Netflix.”

Another shared glance. Dad clears his throat.

“Are you actually watching the shows, or—”

“We watch stuff, Dad,” I say, trying not to roll my eyes. “It’s not like he’s ever been over here, so we can’t really do anything else but watch.”

Pops makes a face. “Well…”

“Ew. Oh my gosh, no, I can’t do this,” I say, covering my ears. “If you’re going to be creepy about sex, I can’t listen to this. I’ve been scarred too many times over.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Pops steps forward, moving my hands. “If you’re going to start dating, we need to be open about it, like we are with everything else. Sex is a big decision, Simone. Especially because…”

“Because I’m positive.”

“Well.” Pops glances at Dad. “Yeah, actually. That complicates things.”

I know what comes next—When are you going to tell him? And that’s the hardest question. I’m going to have to do it eventually, if we keep hanging out, especially if the note-leaver already knows. I just wish I didn’t have to worry about it. I wish I could just think about ice cream and backstage crew and the way Miles looks when he smiles. It’s not fair.

“All right,” Dad says, breaking the silence. I can tell he’s trying to hold back on a lecture. “We aren’t saying you can’t see this boy, Simone. You just have to be mindful. Maybe have a conversation with him about remaining abstinent. It’s important that you communicate about this.”