She breaks my heart, she really does. Does she have any idea how much I counted on shelter sack lunches? They were gold. “Let me smell,” I say.

She holds her fingers to my face and I take her hand. It’s soft. I close my eyes and breathe in. I can smell the peanut butter, barely. I open my eyes and she’s watching me. I hesitate, moisten my lips. Then softly kiss the tip of her forefinger. And she stares at me.

I swallow hard. Hold her fingers to my lips, and she doesn’t pull her hand away. I kiss her second fingertip, and then her third. Her pinkie. And then I go back to her forefinger and run my tongue over the tip of her fingernail, my eyes never leaving hers. Her eyelids close halfway, and I circle her fingertip with my tongue and then kiss it again.

She leans in.

I can feel her breath on my lips.

I think I’m going to pass out.

And then she kisses me, so fucking sweet I want to hold her forever.

It lasts ten seconds, maybe more. Feels like more. But then we break the kiss and we both sit back and just breathe and look at each other.

“That was hot,” Cami says. “Yikes.”

I nod and try to shift without making it obvious that I’ve got a boner the size of a nun-chuck. “Yikes?” I ask. “That’s not the usual reaction, you realize, right?” Tempest never said “yikes.” She always said “more.” But I don’t want to think about Tempest ever again.

She blushes and I can see her sexy bottom lip shining. “I mean, it was awesome. A little too awesome. I—” I can see the guilt in her eyes.

“Don’t,” I say quietly. “Just wait one second.” I lean in, brush her chin with my fingers, and take her bottom lip in my teeth, running my tongue over it, and I can feel her shiver. I kiss her full on, taste her tongue, and think I’m going to die. My fingers slide through her hair and she slips her arms around my neck, and here we are, crazy, both of us starving for this. And I don’t want to think about why I am starving, or why she is; I just want to kiss her, taste her, be with her.

Before she says it. Before she gives me those sad eyes and makes excuses and gets her J-Dog regret all over everything. And when this kiss winds down, I’ll walk away and let her be with him, and I’ll be okay with just the memory of it. Because it’s enough. It has to be enough.

It’s not enough.

We’re like South America and Africa. Like two continents that exist far away from each other, so totally different from one another, but if you push them together, if you nestle Brazil up into the armpit of Nigeria, it all fits, like they were made for each other. Like they were of the same skin. Like one broke away from the other a long time ago, but now it’s back. A puzzle, completed.

I’m back. And I want my other skin.

I’ve never kissed for love before.

When it ends, I search her eyes. I don’t know if she feels like I feel, or if she’s conflicted. I don’t blame her for being conflicted about J-Dog. I don’t.

As for me, I’d run out in front of a bus if she told me to. I can’t hide it. She’s got me so caught up in her. I am Nigeria and she’s my Brazil, and we exist in this moment, in this quiet, dark little spot by the slider door.

But all I can think of to say, right here, right now, is “Please give me a chance.”

Her face is a conflicted story. The wrinkle of her forehead, the line of her eyebrow, the swell of her lips. Her eyes flicker, searching mine.

And then she reaches up, touches my cheek. And says, “Okay.”

I stare. I can’t help it. “What did you say?”

“I said okay.”

I want to shout for joy, but instead I pick up her coat and bury my face in it, trying not to make any noise, a huge grin spreading across my face. And then I grab her and kiss her and we’re laughing and shushing each other.

When I can get my breath, I realize what she has to do now. “Oh, shit,” I say, my grin fading. “He’s going to kill me.”

Cami shrugs. “I don’t think he’ll kill you.”

“But . . . are you sure?”

She smiles. “Let’s lie low for a while, okay? I’ll break up with him tomorrow. I won’t say it’s because of you. We’ll keep it normal, like we have been. I’m sure he’ll pick up another girl to string along and it’ll be all good.” Her voice is a little bitter. I like that more than I should.

And I feel like a coward, but I like her plan too. I nod.

She sits up and smoothes her hair. “I should get home before my mother freaks. It’s late.”

We kiss again at the door, and then she slips out into the shadows and through the backyards to her house. I close my eyes and lean against the doorframe for a minute, letting it all sink in. I can’t stop grinning. Finally, something is going my way.

I’m starving. I go upstairs for a late-night snack and I’m surprised to see a light still on in the living room. I grab a bran muffin from a basket on the counter and make my way over to the living room to see if it’s Mama snoozing on the couch, and then I stop short.

It’s Blake. He’s studying my second-grade photo on the wall.

I narrow my eyes. “What are you doing?”

Blake wheels around, surprised.

I take a bite of my muffin.

“Nothing,” he says. He shoves past me and goes to his room.

But not even Blake can faze me right now. I turn out the light and go back down to my little stress-free cave to dream about my girl.