Jenny Han - To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before

Lucas licks cheese off his lips. “Well, you know I live in the same neighborhood as Genevieve, right?” I nod. “Last night I saw Kavinsky leaving her house.”

“Oh.” That’s all I say. Just “oh.”

“Normally I wouldn’t think it was that big of a deal, but there’s one other thing.” Lucas wipes his mouth off with the back of his hand. “Genevieve and her college guy broke up over the weekend. You know what that means, right?”

I’m nodding but I’m numb inside. “Yes. . . . Wait, what?”

Lucas gives me a look that’s half pitying, half impatient. “She’s going to try to get Peter back, Lara Jean!”

“Right,” I say, and I feel a pang even as I’m saying it. “Of course she will.”

“Don’t let her,” he warns.

“I won’t,” I say, and the words come out soft like jelly, without any conviction at all.

I didn’t know it until now but I think maybe I’ve been counting down to this moment all along. For Genevieve to want Peter back. For Peter to figure out this whole thing has been a zany little detour and now it’s time for him to go back where he belongs. To the person he belongs to.

* * *

I wasn’t planning on telling Peter a thing about Josh kissing me. I really wasn’t. But then, as Lucas and I are walking together, I see him and Genevieve walking down the hallway. Lucas gives me a meaningful look, which I pretend not to see.

In chemistry class I write Peter a note.

You were right about Josh.

I tap him on the back and slip the note in his hand. When he reads it, he sits up straight and immediately scrawls something back.

Be more specific.

He kissed me.

When Peter stiffens, I am ashamed to say that I feel a little bit vindicated. I wait for him to write back, but he doesn’t. As soon as the bell rings, he turns around and says, “What the hell? How did that even happen?”

“He came over to help us trim the tree.”

“And then what? He kissed you in front of Kitty?”

“No! It was just the two of us at the house.”

Peter looks really irritated, and I’m starting to regret mentioning it. “What the hell is he thinking, kissing my girlfriend? It’s fucking ridiculous. I’m gonna say something to him.”

“Wait, what? No!”

“I have to, Lara Jean. He can’t just get away with it.”

I stand up and start packing up my bag. “You’d better not say anything to him, Peter. I mean it.”

Peter watches me silently. And then he asks, “Did you kiss him back?”

“What does it matter?”

He looks taken aback. “Are you mad at me for something?”

“No,” I say. “But I will be if you say anything to Josh.”

“Fine,” he says.

“Fine,” I say back.

I HAVEN’T SEEN JOSH SINCE he kissed me, but when I get home that night from studying at the library, he is sitting on the front porch in his navy parka, waiting for me. The lights are on in the house; my dad is home. Kitty’s bedroom light is on. I’d rather go on avoiding Josh, but here he is, at my house.

“Hey,” he says. “Can I talk to you?”

I sit down next to him and look straight ahead, across the street. Ms. Rothschild’s put her Christmas tree up too. She always puts it by the window near the door so people can see it from the outside.

“We have to figure out what we’re going to do before Margot gets here. It was my fault what happened. I should be the one to tell her.”

I stare at him in disbelief. “Tell her? Are you nuts? We’re never telling Margot because there’s nothing to tell.”

He juts his chin out. “I don’t want to keep a secret from her.”

“You should have thought of that before you kissed me!” I hiss. “And for the record, if anybody was going to tell her, it would be me. I’m her sister. You were just her boyfriend. And you’re not even that anymore, so . . .”

Hurt flashes across his face and it stays there. “I was never just Margot’s boyfriend. This is weird for me, too, you know. It’s like, ever since I got that letter . . .” He hesitates. “Forget it.”

“Just say it,” I say.

“Ever since I got that letter, things have been messed up between us. It’s not fair. You got to say everything you wanted to say, and I’m the one who has to rearrange the way I think about you; I have to make sense of it in my head. You totally blindsided me, and then you just shut me out. You start dating Kavinsky, you stop being my friend.” He exhales. “Ever since I got your letter . . . I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

Whatever I was expecting him to say, it wasn’t that. It definitely wasn’t that. “Josh . . .”

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but just let me say what I need to say, okay?”

I nod.

“I hate that you’re with Kavinsky. I hate it. He’s not good enough for you. I’m sorry to say it, but he’s just not. In my opinion, no guy will ever be good enough for you. Least of all me.” Josh ducks his head, and then suddenly he looks up at me and says, “There was this one time, I guess it was a couple of summers ago. We were walking home from somebody’s house—I think it was Mike’s.”

It was hot, around dusk. I was mad because Mike’s older brother Jimmy had said he’d give us a ride home, and then he went somewhere and didn’t come back, so we had to walk. I was wearing espadrilles and my feet were hurting something terrible. Josh kept telling me to keep up with him.

Quietly he says, “It was just me and you. You had on that tan suede fringy shirt you used to wear, with the straps, and it showed your belly button.”

“My Pocahontas-meets-seventies-Cher-style shirt.” Oh, how I loved that shirt.

“I almost kissed you that day. I thought about it. It was this weird impulse I had. I just wanted to see what it would be like.”

My heart stops. “And then?”

“And then I don’t know. I guess I forgot about it.”

I let out a sigh. “I’m sorry you got that letter. You were never supposed to see that. It wasn’t meant for you to ever read. It was just for me.”

“Maybe it was fate. Maybe this was all supposed to happen just like this, because . . . because it was always gonna be you and me.”

I say the first thing that comes to mind. “No, it wasn’t.” And I realize it’s true.

This is the moment I realize I don’t love him, that I haven’t for a while. That maybe I never did. Because he’s right there for the taking: I could kiss him again; I could make him mine. But I don’t want him. I want someone else. It feels strange to have spent so much time wishing for something, for someone, and then one day, suddenly, to just stop.

I tuck my fingers inside my jacket sleeves. “You can’t tell Margot. You have to promise me, Josh.”

Reluctantly he nods.

“Has Margot been in touch with you recently?” I ask him.

“Yeah. She called the other night. She said she wants to hang out while she’s home. She wants to go to DC for the day. Go to the Smithsonian, get dinner in Chinatown.”

“Great. Then that’s what you’ll do.” I pat him on the knee and then quickly take my hand back. “Josh, we just have to act like before. Like always. If we do that, everything will be fine.” I repeat it to myself in my head. Everything will be fine. We’ll all go back to our proper places now. Josh and Margot. Me. Peter.

AFTER SCHOOL LETS OUT THE next day, I go look for Peter in the weight room. He’s sitting at the bench press. I think it’s better to talk here and not in his car. I’m going to miss riding around in his car. It was starting to feel like home. I’m going to miss being somebody’s pretend girlfriend. Not just somebody’s—Peter’s. I’ve gotten to really like Darrell and Gabe and the other lax guys. They aren’t as douchey as people say. They’re good people.

The weight room is empty except for Peter. He’s at the bench press, lifting weights. When he sees me, he smiles. “Are you here to spot me?” He sits up and wipes sweat off his face with the collar of his T-shirt.

My heart squeezes painfully. “I’m here to break up. To fake break up, I mean.”

Peter does a double take. “Wait. What?”

“There’s no need to keep it going. You got what you wanted, right? You saved face, and so did I. I talked to Josh, and everything’s back to normal with us again. And my sister will be home soon. So . . . mission accomplished.”

Slowly he nods. “Yeah, I guess.”

My heart is breaking even as I smile. “So okay, then.” With a flourish I whip our contract out of my bag. “Null and void. Both parties have hereby fulfilled their obligations to each other in perpetuity.” I’m just rattling off lawyer words.

“You carry that around with you?”

“Of course! Kitty’s such a snoop. She’d find it in two seconds.”

I hold up the piece of paper, poised to rip it in half, but Peter grabs it from me. “Wait! What about the ski trip?”

“What about it?”

“You’re still coming, right?”

I hadn’t thought of that. The only reason I was going to go was for Peter. I can’t go now. I can’t be a witness to Peter and Genevieve’s reunion, I just can’t. I want them to come back from the trip magically together again, and it will be like this whole thing was just something I dreamed up. “I’m not going to go.”

His eyes widen. “Come on, Covey! Don’t bail on me now. We already signed up and gave the deposits and everything. Let’s just go, and have that be our final hurrah.” When I start to protest, Peter shakes his head. “You’re going, so take this contract back.” Peter refolds it and carefully puts it back in my bag.

Why is it so hard to say no to him? Is this what it’s like to be in love with somebody?

I GET THE IDEA DURING the morning announcements, when they announce that our school’s hosting a Model UN scrimmage this weekend. John Ambrose McClaren was the middle school Model UN president. I wonder if he’s on his school’s team.

I bring it up to Peter at lunch, before any of the guys sit down. “Do you know if John McClaren still does Model UN?”

He gives me a funny look. “How should I know?”

“I don’t know. I was just wondering.”

“Why?”

“I think maybe I’m going to go to the Model UN scrimmage this weekend. I have a feeling that he’ll be there.”

“For real?” Peter hoots. “If he is, what are you going to do?”

“I haven’t figured that part out yet. Maybe I’ll go up to him, maybe I won’t. I just want to see how he turned out.”

“We can look him up online right now and I’ll show you.”

I shake my head. “No, that would be cheating. I want to see him with my own eyes. I want to be surprised.”

“Well, don’t bother asking me to go and keep you company. I’m not going to waste a whole Saturday on Model UN.”

“I wasn’t planning on asking you to go.”

Peter throws me a hurt look. “What? Why not?”

“It’s just something I want to do by myself.”

Peter lets out a low whistle. “Wow. The body ain’t even cold yet.”

“Huh?”

“You’re a little player, Covey. We aren’t even broken up yet and you’re already trying to talk to other guys. I would be hurt if I wasn’t impressed.”

This makes me smile.

In eighth grade I kissed John McClaren at a party. It wasn’t a romantic kiss. It was a barely anything kiss. We were playing spin the bottle, and when it was his turn, I held my breath and prayed the bottle would land on me. And it did! It almost landed on Angie Powell, but luck was on my side that day, and he was mine by half an inch. I tried to keep my face very still and robotic so I wouldn’t smile. John and I crawled into the center and we did this very quick chicken peck, and everybody groaned, and his face was red. I was disappointed; I think maybe I’d expected something more, a kiss with more weight to it. More va-va-va-voom. More zsa zsa zsu. But that was it. Maybe I’ll get a second chance. Maybe it’ll make me forget Peter.

AS I WALK INTO SCHOOL on saturday morning, I go over what I’m going to say. Maybe just, Hey, John, how are you? It’s Lara Jean. I haven’t seen him since the eighth grade. What if he doesn’t recognize me? What if he doesn’t even remember me?

I scan the sandwich boards in the lobby and I find John’s name under General Assembly. He’s representing the People’s Republic of China.