“Well,” he abruptly broke the protracted silence. “Where can I kiss you?”

What?

“What?”

He lifted his fingers to my face, tucked a few loose strands of hair behind my ears. “Where can I kiss you goodbye?”

My stomach did a backflip, and I responded stupidly, “In the hall. . .?”

“No, Elizabeth. That’s not what I meant. Where—on your body—am I allowed to kiss you? Where do your other friends kiss you?”