I take the paper and open it. There are three Spanish phrases, all written out in his messy handwriting. You are perfect, even in your imperfection. You are completely insufferable, and I cant stop thinking about you. I want the real thing this time. You wrote these down? So you could say them to me? Yes. If I kiss you, will it hurt? I ask, moving closer to him. What? Your ribs. If I kiss you, will I hurt you? No, he says. I dont think so. I put both of my hands on his face and kiss him. He reaches his good arm across my lower back and pulls me toward him. Ive kissed him before, years ago. But this feels both familiar and brand-new, like a good stretch, like a deep breath. I dont know what this is, I say. I dont know if its the real thing or not. I dont care, he says, kissing me again. He grabs at the hem of my T-shirt and the buttons on my jeans. I dont want to hurt you. I dont care about that either, he says, kissing me again. You have to be careful, I say. Of your ribs. Carrie, please, he says, kissing my neck. Stop worrying. And so I do.

Carrie Soto Is Back by Taylor Jenkins Reid