“I’m sorry,” I say. “Forget I said it, okay?”

It’s so humiliating. I can’t believe I worked myself up, convinced myself to ask him. How could I have possibly thought it was a good idea? I turn to leave, gathering up my backpack.

“No, hey,” he says softly. “Sit back down.”

I feel tears stinging the corners of my eyes and I try to hold them back, already embarrassed enough as it is.

“Keely,” he says, and I sit back down in the booth, my eyes fixed on the pile of soiled napkins on the table. He’s silent for a moment, thinking, and then his voice comes out low and strained. “I haven’t . . . we haven’t . . .” He pauses. “You’re so important to me, and this isn’t how I—”

“You’re important to me too,” I say. “That’s the whole point.”

He pushes his pancakes away, putting his napkins down on top of his plate.

“I don’t like you like I like Dean, so there’s no pressure,” I continue.

“If you like Dean, why don’t you just sleep with him?”

“Everyone says the first time hurts when you’re a girl,” I say, my voice wavering. “I’d rather just get that over with. It’s different for guys. Your first time is . . . well, you don’t have to worry about pain, or bleeding, or getting called a slut. You saw what happened to Danielle. At least she can handle it. I’d die if someone started writing things about me.” I tap the fork against the table.

“And you think Dean would do that?”

“No.” I sigh. “I don’t know, not really. But being a virgin makes things complicated. I just want to be able to sleep with him without the added significance. I don’t want it to have to mean everything.” I set the fork down. “But it doesn’t matter. I’m sorry I ruined everything.”

I dig through my backpack and find my wallet, setting a twenty-dollar bill down on the table. “Breakfast is on me today, okay? I’ll see you at school.”

“No, wait,” he says, holding out an arm to stop me. The expression on his face is unreadable. His eyes are crinkled at the corners under his glasses, and his mouth is pressed into a firm line. “Ah, fuck it,” he says, sighing and running a hand through his hair. “Okay. Okay, sure.”

My eyes widen and my breath catches in my throat. “Really?” I don’t know how to feel, whether to be relieved or excited or horrified. “Okay,” I say, sitting back down in the booth.

“Okay,” he says back, a goofy grin spreading across his face. “Um, when do you want to?”

“Oh,” I say. “Right.” I think for a moment. “Well, your house is probably better. We’ve slept in your bed more, so it might not be as weird.”