“How are things going with him?” With everything that’s been on my mind, I’d forgotten to ask about her rehearsal with his band. She might have even told us about it yesterday, when I wasn’t listening.

“Good,” she says, sitting up on the bed. “We, uh… we kissed.”

“What?”

“You kissed?”

“Are you kids hungry?”

The three of us turn toward the door at the same time. Adam’s nonna is standing there, smiling at us.

“Nonna, we’re—”

“I made cannoli this morning.”

Adam looks at me, and then at Kimmie. We’ve never been able to say no to cannoli, so we end up following Adam’s nonna to the kitchen. She was the one who taught us that you can have one “cannolo” or many “cannoli.” One “panino,” or two “panini.” The words “cannolis” and “paninis” just don’t exist. I’ve always loved learning Italian from her. It’s not all that different from Spanish, which is the only language I spoke at home for the first few years of my life.

Nonna stays in the kitchen long enough to witness our first bites, and once she’s certain that we all like the cannoli she made, she heads back upstairs.

“So,” Adam says, looking at Kimmie. “You kissed Darryl.”

She nods, her mouth crunching as she eats her cannolo.

“How did this happen?”

Kimmie smiles. “Well… we went to Starbucks after school yesterday, you know, to work on our essay. And the second we were done and walked out, he kissed me. It was amazing.”

Adam’s mouth falls open. “You kissed the Darryl Williams, and you waited until now to tell us? I’m honestly offended you didn’t pick up your phone to text us the second it was over.”

“Well, I don’t kiss and tell,” Kimmie says, even though she just did.

“Is he a great kisser? He looks like he would be a great kisser.”

“The best I’ve ever had,” Kimmie says, which makes me laugh a little. Like me, she doesn’t really have any points of reference.

“So what now?” asks Adam. “Have you talked to him since yesterday?”

Her smile widens as she says, “Yeah. I saw him in class this morning.”

“And?”

“And he asked if I wanna hang out tomorrow.”

“What are you guys gonna do?”

“Rehearse with his band again.”

“Kimmie!” Adam shrieks. “Why haven’t you said anything? You—”

We’re interrupted by the sound of the front door of the apartment opening and closing. Adam’s dad appears at the kitchen door an instant later. Mr. Caruso looks just like Adam, except that his hair is brown instead of blond. His eyes widen when he sees us sitting at the table, but then he smiles.

“Kimmie, Matt! How are you two doing?”

Before either of us can answer, Adam speaks up quickly. “We’re just hanging out.”