I kissed Mrs. Bell from downstairs.
I kissed our building superintendent when he fixed my heat.
And I kissed Graham whenever we met outside our apartments.
But Graham was different.
I remembered his birthday. I noticed when he changed his glasses. I knew he bought cinnamon coffee creamer even though he pretended to be a black-coffee person.
For an entire year, I’d been waiting for him to notice me.
Then Halloween happened.
Our apartment building held a costume party in the community room. Someone brought hard cider. Somebody else burned the popcorn. A guy from the fourth floor wore a cheap Dracula cape.
I dressed as a bumblebee.
Black jeans. Yellow sweater. Ridiculous antennae.
Graham arrived wearing a gray sweater and a name tag that read: Hello, my name is Tax Season.
Honestly, I should have known right then that I was in trouble.
Around nine, I finished greeting the neighbors and walked toward him.
