"You've kissed Richie before," Seth accuses one evening, sitting on their bed.
A distant, "Hey! Leave me out of this," can be heard from the living room.
Kate slams the bedroom door shut. "No I haven't," she says, looking at Seth.
"Yes, back when—back at—well, at the Twister." It's still hard talking about those days.
Kate lets out a laugh and rolls her eyes. "That hardly counts." She steps out of the dress she wore to the restaurant for Seth's birthday with their families.
"What about it doesn't count, Kate? Your lips touched his. That was a fucking kiss if I've ever seen one. You kissed my brother before you ever kissed me."
Kate unclasps her bra and throws it at Seth's head. He catches it smoothly and drops it to the floor.
"Seriously, let it go, dude," a younger teenage voice rings out from down the hall through two closed doors.
She pulls her panties down her legs and steps out of them.
"I was manipulating Richie, if I recall—trying to get the keys to the RV to leave you both behind in the Mexican desert. Have I ever manipulated you with a kiss, Seth?"
Her body is on top of his, her lips at his ear, her voice breathy.
"I get the feeling you're doing just that right know," Seth retorts, but the anger and jealousy are gone from his voice, and he's smirking up at her.
"Maybe I am," she whispers before kissing him lightly. He tries to kiss her back but she pulls away. Her fingers go to his shirt, undoing the buttons. "The difference between the one time I kissed Richie and the innumerable times I've kissed you—"
"Maybe we should stop talking about my brother while we're in bed and you're naked," Seth interjects.
"You brought him up," Kate reminds him before continuing on. "The difference is that every time I kiss you, I want nothing more than to feel your lips on mine."
No more words are spoken that night, and if Seth looks a little smug the next morning over eggs and bacon, no one says a word.