P.S. I Still Love You

He’s already taking off his shoes. “Just let me stay for a few minutes.”
I cross my arms because I’m not wearing a bra and say, “If it’s only a few minutes, why are you
taking off your shoes?”
He dodges this question. Plopping down on my bed, he says, “Hey, why aren’t you wearing your
Amish bikini? It’s so hot.” I move to slap him upside the head, and he grabs my waist and hugs me to
him. He buries his head in my stomach like a little boy. His voice muffled, he says, “I’m sorry all this
is happening because of me.”
I touch the top of his head; his hair feels soft and silky against my fingers. “It’s okay, Peter. I know
it’s not your fault.” I glance at my moonbeam alarm clock. “You can stay for fifteen minutes, but then
you have to go.” Peter nods and releases me. I sink down on the bed next to him and put my head on
his shoulder. I hope the minutes go slow. “How was the party?”
“Boring without you.”
“Liar.”
He laughs an easy kind of laugh. “What did you bake tonight?”
“How do you know I baked?”
Peter breathes me in. “You smell like sugar and butter.”
“Chai sugar cookies with eggnog icing.”
“Can I take some with me?”
I nod, and we lean our backs against the wall. He slides his arm around me, safe and secure.
“Twelve minutes left,” I say into his shoulder, and I feel rather than see him smile.
“Then let’s make it good.” We start to kiss, and I’ve definitely never kissed a boy in my bed
before. This is brand-new. I doubt I’ll ever be able to think of my bed the same way again. Between
kisses he says, “How much time do I have left?”
I glance over at my clock. “Seven minutes.” Maybe I should tack on an extra five...
“Can we lie down, then?” he suggests.
I shove him in the shoulder. “Peter!”
“I just want to hold you for a little bit! If I was going to try to do more, I’d need more than seven
minutes, trust me.”
So we lie down, my back to his chest, him curved around me, his arms slung around mine. He
snuggles his chin into the hollow between my neck and my shoulder. It might be my favorite thing
we’ve ever done. I like it so much I have to keep reminding myself to be vigilant that we don’t fall
asleep. I want to close my eyes but I keep them trained on my clock.
“Spooning’s the freaking best,” he sighs, and I wish he didn’t say it, because it makes me think of
how many times he must have held Genevieve just like this.
At the fifteen-minute mark, I sit up so fast he jumps. I clap him on the shoulder. “Time to go,
buddy.”
His mouth falls into a sulk. “Come on, Covey!”
I shake my head, resolute.
If you hadn’t made me think of Genevieve, I would’ve given you five minutes more.
After I send Peter off with a bag of cookies, I lie back down and close my eyes and imagine his
arms are still around me, and that’s how I fall asleep.