The Secret Recipe for Moving On Karen Bischer (read my book .txt) 📖

not shoving his tongue down my throat in a slobbery fashion, like Hunter did the first time. And I may even enjoy the feeling of his stubble against my chin. It’s sweet and warm and this is how first kisses are supposed to be. There’s so much electricity zapping through me, I could probably power all of downtown Ringvale Heights right now.

“I don’t know how I’m going to wait to do that again,” he says when he pulls away.

“Are you kidding me? We’re doing it again right now,” I say, pulling him down by his coat collar and planting one on him. He wraps his arms around my waist and it feels so ridiculously right.

I suddenly hear footsteps approaching behind me in the house and I leap away from Luke just as the front door creaks open. Mom comes out with her car keys and purse, and I remember she has to pick up Dad from work. She jumps when she sees me standing there. “You just took ten years off my life,” she gasps, clutching her hand to her chest. Then she notices Luke on the steps and her eyes go huge.

“ThisismyfriendLuke,” I blabber, not knowing what else to say.

“Hey, Mrs. Agresti,” Luke says, with a little wave.

“Nice to meet you,” Mom says warmly, and I can tell from the sudden apologetic tone in her voice that she thinks something just happened between him and me.

“He walked me home from Alisha’s,” I say.

“Well, that was very nice of you,” Mom says, giving Luke a big smile.

“It was no problem,” Luke says, shifting his weight from one foot to another.

“He didn’t want me to get abducted by aliens,” I say, hoping that adding something funny might make my mom not think I was just engaging in serious smooching.

“Regardless,” Mom says. “It’s nice to know my daughter has friends who look out for her.”

“Well,” Luke says, stepping down off the stair and looking directly at me, “she is pretty awesome, you know?”

I pray my mom can’t see how hard I’m blushing in the weak porch light.

“Yeah, she’s all right,” Mom says, patting my cheek.

Luke starts to back away, and, feeling bad that my mom broke this up, I blurt out, “I had a really good time tonight!”

“Me too,” he says as he walks off. “See you Monday!”

See you Monday? After those kisses? Then I remember my “in a few weeks” rule. And then I have a sudden pang of longing because I don’t know that I can wait that long to kiss him again.

I expect Mom to say something like, “So you’re a total liar,” but she merely yanks my hat off and ruffles my hair before she moves off the porch.

But just as she gets to the car she turns around and raises an eyebrow at me.

“That must’ve been some game night, huh?”

I try not to look too deer-in-the-headlights and just shrug while laughing nervously. Then I turn around quickly and let myself into the house, where I may or may not flop onto my bed and sigh the sigh of a girl who’s just been kissed by the dreamiest guy she’s ever met.

CHAPTER 17

My euphoria is short-lived, because it’s kind of hard to sleep when you’re not sure if you’re a home-wrecker or not.

Like, Luke says he broke up with Greta to be with me. Isn’t that what Hunter did to me to be with Brynn? Is Greta feeling all those horrible things that I felt right now? Because of me?

And then I think about how amazing it was kissing Luke last night and I don’t want to care about being labeled a home-wrecker. But I still do.

I debate calling Jodie, but I know she’s still in mourning over USC and that she’s probably not feeling better about it today. When our favorite singer, T.J. Choi, left the boy band InSyte to become an organic dairy farmer, she was sad for weeks—and he was nowhere near as important to her as a degree from USC’s School of Cinematic Arts.

Plus, I feel weird dangling this in front of her, like I’m being insensitive or something. “I know your college plans are all screwed up and you’re depressed but look how much fun I’m having!”

So I get out of bed and stare into my mirror as I pull my hair into a ponytail. I certainly don’t think I look like a home-wrecker, especially when my pajama pants have surfing cats on them. Surely an interloping harlot would have a more, uh, smutty wardrobe.

I check my phone and notice I have three texts: one from Alisha, thanking me for helping her clean up and saying she owes me a drink at Starbucks; one from Willow jokingly asking if I’m still sore from my beer pong “beatdown” (and admitting that she has a killer headache); and one from A.J. to the JAILE family, a photo of Jared passed out on Alisha’s couch. Someone had replaced his beret with a lace doily, and Alisha’s giving him bunny ears.

That none of them mentions anything about Luke and me is a good start. I must’ve kept my feelings off my face last night.

I’d texted Luke before I went to sleep, See you Monday? That’s all??? with a wink-y face emoji.

So when I’m brushing my teeth and my phone dings, my heart does a little cartwheel when I see it’s a text from him. His reply is the toothy-grin emoji, followed by a bike and flower emoji.

Use your words, Burke, I write back with a smiley face of my own.

Use your front door, Agresti, he replies.

I glance up in confusion, then quickly peer out the bathroom window, which overlooks the front yard. Luke is straddling his bike on the sidewalk, staring at his phone.

My stomach takes off in a flight of butterflies as I run down the stairs and grab my coat. My parents just left to sell some of our basement stuff at a flea market, so I don’t have to worry about them