BetterThantheMovies
LynnPainterFormyamazingmom,who’salwaysbeenmybiggestfan,harshestcritic,andthewomansingle-handedlyresponsibleformydistrustofthoseasshatsintheshoeindustry.ThankyouforlettingmereadundertheblanketswhenIshould’vebeensleeping.
Andformybeloveddad,whosawthecoverbutnevergottoreadthebook.Hewould’velovedtheStella’ssceneandrememberedtheketchup.RIP,JerryPainter(5/17/39–5/18/20)
—L.P.PROLOGUE
“I’mjustagirl,standinginfrontofaboy,askinghimtoloveher.”
—NottingHill
MymothertaughtmethegoldenruleofdatingbeforeIevenhitthesecondgrade
Attheripeageofseven,I’dsnuckintoherroomafterhavinganightmare.(Ahouse-sizecricketmightnotsoundscary,butwhenitspeaksinarobotvoiceandknowsyourmiddlename,itisterrifying.)BridgetJones’sDiarywasplayingontheboxytelevisionontopofthedresser,andI’dwatchedagoodportionofthemoviebeforesheevennoticedmeatthefootofherbed.Atthatpoint,itwastoolatetorescuemefromtheso-not-first-grade-friendlycontent,soshesnuggledupbesideme,andwewatchedthehappyendingtogether.
Butmyfirst-gradebrainjustcouldn’tcompute.WhywouldBridgetgiveupthecuterone—thecharmingone—forthepersonwhowastheequivalentofoneginormousyawn?Howdidthatevenmakesense?
Yep—I’dmissedthemovie’spointcompletelyandhadfallenmadlyinlovewiththeplayboy.Andtothisday,Icanstillhearmymom’svoiceandsmellthevanillaofherperfumeassheplayedwithmyhairandsetmestraight.
“Charmandintriguecanonlygetyousofar,LibbyLoo.Thosethingsalwaysdisappear,whichiswhyyounever,everchoosethebadboy.”
Afterthat,wesharedhundredsofsimilarmoments,exploringlifetogetherthroughromanticmovies.Itwasourthing.We’dsnack-up,kickbackonthepillows,andbinge-watchfromhercollectionofkiss-infusedhappyendingslikeotherpeoplebinge-watchedtrashyrealityTV.
Which,inhindsight,isprobablywhyI’vebeenwaitingfortheperfectromancesinceIwasoldenoughtospelltheword“love.”
Andwhenshedied,mymotherbequeathedtomeherunwaveringbeliefinhappilyeverafter.Myinheritancewastheknowledgethatloveisalwaysintheair,alwaysapossibility,andalwaysworthit.
Mr.Right—thenice-guy,dependableversion—couldbewaitingaroundtheverynextcorner.
WhichwaswhyIwasalwaysattheready.
Itwasonlyamatteroftimebeforeitfinallyhappenedforme.CHAPTERONE
“Nobodyfindstheirsoulmatewhenthey’reten.Imean,where’sthefuninthat,right?”
—SweetHomeAlabama
Thedaybeganlikeanytypicalday.
Mr.Fitzpervertleftahairballinmyslipper,Iburnedmyearlobewiththestraightener,andwhenIopenedthedoortoleaveforschool,Icaughtmynext-doornemesissuspiciouslysprawledacrossthehoodofmycar.
“Hey!”Islidmysunglassesupmynose,pulledthefrontdoorshutbehindme,andhightaileditinhisdirection,carefulnottoscuffmyprettynewfloralflatsasIbasicallyranathim.“Getoffofmycar.”
WesjumpeddownandhelduphishandsintheuniversalI’minnocentpose,eventhoughhissmirkmadehimlookanythingbut.Besides,I’dknownhimsincekindergarten;theboyhadneverbeeninnocentadayinhislife.
“What’sinyourhand?”
“Nothing.”Heputthehandinquestionbehindhisback.Eventhoughhe’dgottentallandmannishandatinybithotsincegradeschool,Weswasstillthesameimmatureboywho’d“accidentally”burneddownmymom’srosebushwithafirecracker.
“You’resoparanoid,”hesaid.
Istoppedinfrontofhimandsquintedupathisface.Weshadoneofthosenaughty-boyfaces,thekindoffacewherehisdarkeyes—surroundedbymile-longthicklashesbecauselifewasn’tfair—spokevolumes,evenwhenhismouthsaidnothing.
AneyebrowraisetoldmejusthowridiculoushethoughtIwas.Fromourmanyless-than-pleasantencounters,Iknewthenarrowingofhiseyesmeanthewassizingmeup,andthatwewereabouttothrowdownaboutthemostrecentannoyancehe’dbroughtuponme.Andwhenhewasbright-eyedlikehewasrightnow,hisbrowneyespracticallyfreakingtwinklingwithmischief,IknewIwasscrewed.BecausemischievousWesalwayswon.
Ipokedhiminthechest.“Whatdidyoudotomycar?”
“Ididn’tdoanythingtoyourcar,perse.”
“Perse?”
“Whoa.Watchyourfilthymouth,Buxbaum.”
Irolledmyeyes,whichmadehismouthslideintoawickedgrinbeforehesaid,“Thishasbeenfun,andIloveyourgrannyshoes,bytheway,butI’vegottarun.”
“Wes—”
HeturnedandwalkedawayfrommelikeIhadn’tbeenspeaking.Just…walkedtowardhishouseinthatrelaxed,overconfidentwayofhis.Whenhegottotheporch,heopenedthescreendoorandyelledtomeoverhisshoulder,“Haveagoodday,Liz!”
Well,thatcouldn’tbegood.
Becausetherewasnowayhelegitimatelywantedmetohaveagoodday.Iglanceddownatmycar,apprehensiveaboutevenopeningthedoor.
See,WesBennettandIwereenemiesinano-holds-barred,full-onwarovertheoneavailableparkingspotonourendofthestreet.Heusuallywon,butonlybecausehewasadirtycheater.HethoughtitwasfunnytoreservetheSpotforhimselfbyleavingthingsinthespacethatIwasn’tstrongenoughtomove.Ironpicnictable,truckmotor,monstertruckwheels.Yougetit.
(EventhoughhisanticscaughttheattentionoftheneighborhoodFacebookpage—mydadwasagroupmember—andtheoldgossipsfrothedwithrageattheirkeyboardsovertheblightsontheneighborhoodlandscape,notasinglepersonhadeversaidanythingtohimormadehimstop.Howwasthatevenfair?)
ButIwastheoneridingthevictorywaveforonce,becauseyesterdayI’dhadthebrilliantideatocallthecityafterhe’ddecidedtoleavehiscarintheSpotforthreedaysinarow.Omahahadatwenty-four-hourordinance,sogoodoldWesleyhadearnedhimselfanicelittleparkingticket.
Notgoingtolie,IdidalittlehappydanceinmykitchenwhenIsawthedeputyslidethatticketunderneathWes’swindshieldwiper.
Icheckedallfourtiresbeforeclimbingintomycarandbucklingmyseatbelt.IheardWeslaugh,andwhenIleaneddowntoglareathimoutthepassengerwindow,hisfrontdoorslammedshut.
ThenIsawwhathe’dfoundsofunny.
Theparkingticketwasnowonmycar,stucktothemiddleofthewindshieldwithclearpackingtapethatwasimpossibletoseethrough.Layersandlayersofwhatappearedtobecommercialgradepackingtape.
Igotoutofthecarandtriedtopryupacornerwithmyfingernail,buttheedgeshadallbeensolidlyflatteneddown.
Whatatool.
WhenIfinallymadeittoschoolafterscrapingmywindshieldwitharazorbladeanddoinghard-coredeepbreathingtoreclaimmyzen,IenteredthebuildingwiththeBridgetJones’sDiarysoundtrackplayingthroughmyheadphones.I’dwatchedthemoviethenightbefore—forthethousandthtimeinmylife—butthistimethesoundtrackhadjustspokentome.MarkDarcysayingOh,yes,theyfuckingdowhilekissingBridgetwas,ofcourse,asswoonyashellfire,butitwouldn’thavebeensooh-my-God-worthyifnotforVanMorrison’s“SomeoneLikeYou”playinginthebackground
Yeah—Ihaveanerd-levelfascinationwithmoviesoundtracks.
ThatsongcameonasIwentpastthecommonsandmademywaythroughthecrowdsofstudentscloggingupthehalls.Myfavoritethingaboutmusic—whenyouplayeditloudenoughthroughgoodheadphones(andIhadthebest)—wasthatitsoftenedtheedgesoftheworld.VanMorrison’svoicemadeswimmingupstreaminthebusyhallwayseemlikeitwasascenefromamovie,asopposedtotheroyalpainthatitactuallywas.
Iheadedtowardthesecond-floorbathroom,whereImetJocelyneverymorning.Mybestfriendwasaperpetualoversleeper,sotherewasrarelyadaywhenshewasn’tscramblingtoputonhereyelinerbeforethebellrang.
“Liz,Ilovethatdress.”Jossthrewmeaside-glancebetweencleaningupeacheyewithacottonswabaswewalkedintothebathroom.Shepulledoutatubeofmascaraandbeganswipingthewandoverherlashes.“Theflowersaresoyou.”
“Thanks!”IwentovertothemirroranddidaturntomakesurethevintageA-linedresswasn’tstuckinmyunderwearorsomethingequallyembarrassing.Twocheerleaderssurroundedbyapuffofwhitecloudwerevapingbehindus,andIgavethemaclosed-mouthsmile.
“Doyoutrytodressliketheleadsinyourmovies,orisitacoincidence?”Jossasked.
“Don’tsay‘yourmovies’likeI’maddictedtopornorsomething.”
“YouknowwhatImean,”Josssaidassheseparatedherlasheswithasafetypin.
Iknewexactlywhatshemeant.Iwatchedmymom’sbelovedrom-comspracticallyeverynight,usingherDVDcollectionI’dinheritedwhenshedied.IfeltclosertomymotherwhenIwatchedthem;itfeltlikeatinypieceofherwasthere,watchingbesideme.Probablybecausewe’dwatchedthemtogetherSo.Many.Times.
ButJocelyndidn’tknowanyofthat.We’dgrownuponthesamestreetbuthadn’tbecomeactualgoodfriendsuntilsophomoreyear,soeventhoughsheknewmymomhaddiedwhenIwasinfifthgrade,we’dneverreallytalkedaboutit.She’dalwaysassumedIwasobsessedwithlovebecauseIwashopelesslyromantic.Inevercorrectedher.
“Hey,didyouaskyourdadabouttheseniorpicnic?”Josslookedatmeinthemirror,andIknewshewasgoingtobeirritated.Honestly,Iwassurprisedthatwasn’tthefirstthingsheaskedmewhenIwalkedin.
“Hewasn’thomelastnightuntilafterIwenttobed.”Itwasthetruth,butIcould’veaskedHelena,ifI’dreallywantedtodiscussit.“I’lltalktohimtoday.”
“Sureyouwill.”Shetwistedthemascaraclosedandshoveditintohermakeupbag.
“Iwill.Ipromise.”
“Comeon.”Jocelynstuckhermakeupbagintoherbackpackandgrabbedhercoffee.“Ican’tbetardytoLitagainorI’llgetdetention,andItoldKateI’ddropgumbyherlockerontheway.”
Iadjustedthemessengerbagonmyshoulderandcaughtaglimpseofmyfaceinthemirror.“Wait—Iforgotlipstick.”
“Wedon’thavetimeforlipstick.”
“There’salwaystimeforlipstick.”Iunzippedthesidepouchandpulledoutmynewfave,RetrogradeRed.Ontheoffchance(soveryoffchance)myMcDreamywasinthebuilding,Iwantedgoodmouth.“Yougoahead.”
SheleftandIrubbedthecolorovermylips.Muchbetter.Ituckedthelipstickbackintomybag,replacedmyheadphones,andexitedtherestroom,hittingplayandlettingtherestoftheBridgetJonessoundtrackwrapitselfaroundmypsyche.
WhenIgottoEnglishLit,IwalkedtothebackoftheroomandtookaseatatthedeskbetweenJossandLaneyMorgan,slidingmyheadphonesdowntomyneck.
“Whatdidyouputfornumbereight?”Jocelynwaswritingfastwhileshetalkedtome,finishingherhomework.“Iforgotaboutthereading,soIhavenoideawhyGatsby’sshirtsmadeDaisycry.”
IpulledoutmyworksheetandletJosscopymyanswer,butmyeyesshiftedovertoLaney.Ifsurveyed,everyoneontheplanetwouldunanimouslyagreethatthegirlwasbeautiful;itwasanindisputablefact.Shehadoneofthosenosesthatwassoadorable,itsexistencehadsurelycreatedtheneedfortheword“pert.”HereyeswerehugelikeaDisneyprincess’s,andherblondhairwasalwaysshinyandsoftandlookedlikeitbelongedinashampoocommercial.Toobadhersoulwastheexactoppositeofherphysicalappearance.
Idislikedhersoverymuch.
Onthefirstdayofkindergarten,she’dyelledEwwwwwhenI’dgottenabloodynose,pointingatmyfaceuntiltheentireclassgawkedatmeindisgust.Inthirdgrade,she’dtoldDaveAddlemanthatmynotebookwasfulloflovenotesabouthim.(She’dbeenright,butthatwasn’tthepoint.)Laneyhadblabbedtohim,andinsteadofbeingsweetorcharminglikethemovieshadledmetobelievehe’dbe,Davidhadcalledmeaweirdo.Andinfifthgrade,notlongaftermymomhaddiedandI’dbeenforcedtositbyLaneyinthelunchroomduetoassignedseating,everydayasIpickedatmybarelyediblehotlunch,shewouldunzipherpastelpinklunchboxandwowtheentiretablewiththedelightshermotherhadmadejustforher.
Sandwichescutintoadorableshapes,homemadecookies,brownieswithsprinkles;ithadbeenatreasuretroveofkiddieculinarymasterpieces,eachonemorelovinglypreparedthanthelast.
Butthenoteswerewhathaddestroyedme.
Therewasn’tasingledaythatherlunchdidn’tincludeahandwrittennotefromhermom.TheywerefunnylittlelettersthatLaneyusedtoreadoutloudtoherfriends,withsillydrawingsinthemargins,andifIallowedmysnoopingeyestostraytothebottom,whereitsaid“Love,Mom”incurlycursivewithdoodledheartsaroundit,IwouldgetsosadthatIcouldn’teveneat.
Tothisday,everyonethoughtLaneywasgreatandprettyandsmart,butIknewthetruth.Shemightpretendtobenice,butforaslongasIcouldremember,she’dgivenmecrusty-weirdlooks.Asineverysingletimethegirllookedatme,itwaslikeIhadsomethingonmyfaceandshecouldn’tdecideifshewasgrossed-outoramused.Shewasrottingunderallthatbeauty,andsomedaytherestoftheworldwouldseewhatIsaw.
“Gum?”LaneyheldoutapackofDoublemintwithherperfectlyarchedeyebrowsraised.
“No,thanks,”Imuttered,andturnedmyattentiontothefrontoftheroomasMrs.Adamscameinandaskedforhomework.Wepassedourpapersforward,andshestartedtalkingaboutliterarythings.Everyonebegantakingnotesontheirschool-issuedlaptops,andColtonSparksgavemeachinnodfromhisdeskinthecorner.
Ismiledandlookeddownatmycomputer.Coltonwasnice.I’dtalkedtohimforasolidtwoweeksatthebeginningoftheyear,butthathadturnedouttobemeh.Whichkindofsummedupthewholeofmycollectivedatinghistory,actually:meh
Twoweeks—thatwastheaveragelengthofmyrelationships,ifyoucouldevencallthemthat.
Here’showitusuallywent:Iwouldseeacuteguy,daydreamabouthimforweeksandtotallybuildhimupinmymindtobemyone-and-onlysoulmate.Theusualhighschoolpre-relationshipstuffalwaysbeganwiththegreatestofhopes.Butbytheendoftwoweeks,beforeweevengotclosetoofficial,IalmostalwaysgothitwiththeIck.Thedeathsentencetoallblossomingrelationships.
DefinitionoftheIck:Adatingtermthatreferstoasuddencringefeelingonegetswhentheyhaveromanticcontactwithsomeoneandtheybecomealmostimmediatelyputoffbythem.
JosssaidIwasalwaysbrowsingbutneverbuying.Andsheendedupbeingright.Butmypropensityfortinylittletwo-weekrelationshipsreallymessedwithprompotential.Iwantedtogowithsomeonewhomademybreathcatchandmyheartflutter,butwhowasevenleftintheschoolthatIhadn’talreadyconsidered?
Imean,technically,Ihadapromdate;IwasgoingwithJoss.It’sjust…goingtopromwithmybestfriendfeltlikesuchafail.Iknewwe’dhaveagoodtime—weweregrabbingdinnerbeforehandwithKateandCassidy,thefunnestofourlittlefriendgroup—butpromwassupposedtobethepinnacleofhighschoolromance.Itwassupposedtobeposter-boardpromposals,matchingcorsages,speechlessaweoverthewayyoulookinyourdress,andsweetkissesunderthecheesydiscoball.
AndrewMcCarthyandMollyRingwaldPrettyinPinksortofshit.
Itwasn’taboutfriendsgrabbingdinnerattheCheesecakeFactorybeforeheadinguptothehighschoolforawkwardconversationwhilethecoupled-offcouplesfoundtheirwaytotheinfamousgrindingwall.
IknewJocelynwouldn’tgetit.Shethoughtpromwasnobigdeal,justahighschooldancethatyoudressedupfor,andshewouldfindmecompletelyridiculousifIadmittedtobeingdisappointed.ShewasalreadypeevedbythefactthatIkeptblowingheroffondressshopping,butIneverfeltlikegoing.
Atall.
Myphonebuzzed.
Joss:IhaveBIGtea.
Ilookedoverather,butsheappearedtobelisteningtoMrs.Adams.Iglancedattheteacherbeforeresponding:Spillit.
Joss:FYIIgotitviatextfromKate.
Me:Soitmightnotbetrue.Gotit.
Thebellrang,soIgrabbedmystuffandshoveditintomybag.JocelynandIstartedwalkingtowardourlockers,andshesaid,“BeforeItellyou,youhavetopromiseyou’renotgoingtogetallworkedupbeforeyouheareverything.”
“OhmyGod.”Mystomachstress-dropped,andIasked,“What’sgoingon?”
Weturneddownthewestwing,andbeforeIhadachancetoevenlookather,Isawhimwalkingtowardme.
MichaelYoung?
Icametoacompletehalt.
“Aaaand—there’smytea,”Josssaid,butIwasn’tlistening.
PeoplebumpedoffmeandwentaroundmeasIstoodthereandstared.Helookedthesame,onlytallerandbroaderandmoreattractive(ifthatwasevenapossibility).Mychildhoodcrushmovedinslowmotion,withtinybluebirdschirpingandflittingtheirwingsaroundhisheadashisgoldenhairblewinasparklingbreeze.
Ithinkmyheartmighthavestopped.
Michaelhadliveddownthestreetwhenwewerelittle,andhe’dbeeneverythingtome.I’dlovedhimasfarbackasIcouldremember.He’dalwaysbeennext-levelamazing.Smart,sophisticated,and…Idon’tknow…dreamierthananyotherboy.He’drunaroundwiththeneighborhoodkids(me,Wes,thePotterboysonthecorner,andJocelyn),doingtypicalneighborhoodthings—playinghide-and-seek,tag,touchfootball,ding-dong-ditch,etc.ButwhileWesandthePottershadenjoyedthingslikeflingingmudintomyhairbecauseitmademescream,Michaelhadbeendoingthingslikeidentifyingleaves,readingthickbooks,andnotjoininginontheirtorture.
Mybraincuedup“SomeoneLikeYou,”andthesongstartedoverfromthebeginning.
I’vebeensearchingalongtime,
Forsomeoneexactlylikeyou.
Hewaswearingkhakisandaniceblackshirt,thekindofoutfitthatshowedheknewwhatlookedgoodbutalsodidn’tspendtoomuchtimeonfashion.Hishairwasthickandblondandstyledthesameashisclothes—intentionallycasual.Iwonderedwhatitsmelledlike.
Hishair,nothisclothes.
Hemust’vesensedastalkerinhismidst,becausetheslo-mostopped,thebirdsdisappeared,andhelookedrightatme.
“Liz?”
IwassohappythatI’dtakenthetimetoapplyRetrogradeRed.ClearlythecosmoshadknownMichaelwouldbeappearingbeforemethatday,soithaddoneeverythinginitspowertomakemepresentable.
“Girl,chill,”Josssaidbetweenherteeth,butIwashelplesstostopthewhole-facesmilethatbrokefreeasIsaid,“MichaelYoung?”
IheardJossmutter“Herewego,”butIdidnotcare.
Michaelcameoverandwrappedmeinahug,andIletmyhandsslidearoundhisshoulders.OhmyGod,ohmyGod!MystomachwentwildasIfelthisfingersonmyback,andIrealizedthatwecouldverywellbehavingourmeet-cute.
Oh.My.God.
Iwasdressedforit;hewasbeautiful.Couldthismomentbemoreperfect?ImadeeyecontactwithJoss,whowasslowlyshakingherhead,butitdidn’tmatter.
Michaelwasback.
Hesmelledgood—so,sogood—andIwantedtocatalogueeverytinydetailofthemoment.Thesoft,worn-infeelofhisshirtundermypalms,thebreadthofhisshoulders,thegoldenskinofhisneck,scantcentimetersawayfrommyfaceasIhuggedhimback.
Wasitwrongtoclosemyeyesandtakeadeepbrea—
“Oof.”Someonebumpedintous,hard,destroyingthehug.IwasshovedintoandthenawayfromMichael,andasIturnedaround,Isawwhoitwas.
“Wes!”Isaid,irritatedthathe’druinedourmoment,butsounbelievablyhappystillthatIbeamedathimanyway.Iwasincapableofnotsmiling.“Youshouldreallywatchwhereyou’regoing.”
Hiseyebrowscrinkledtogether.“Yeah…?”
Hewaswatchingme,probablywonderingwhyIwassmilinginsteadofgoingballisticoverthepackingtapeincident.Helookedlikesomeonewaitingforthepunchline,andhisconfusionkickedupmyhappinesstoanevenhigherlevel.Igiggledandsaid,“Yeah,youbigdoof.Youcouldreallyhurtsomeone.Buddy.”
Henarrowedhiseyesandtalkedslower.“Sorry—IwastalkingtoCarsonanddoingtheextremelydifficultbackward-walkingthing.Butenoughaboutme.Howwasyourdrivetoschool?”
Iknewhewantedtohearallthedetails,likehowlongithadtakenmetoremovethetapeorthefactthatI’dbrokentwofreshlymanicurednails,butIwasn’tabouttogivethataggravatorthesatisfaction.“Really,reallygreat—thanksforasking.”
“Wesley.”MichaeldidabrohandshakewithWes—whenhadtheyhadtimetochoreographthatlittletouchofadorability?—andsaid,“Youwererightonaboutthebiologyteacher.”
“It’sbecauseyousatbyme.Shehaaaatesme.”Wesgrinnedandstartedtalking,butIignoredthattoolandwatchedMichaelspeakandlaughandbeassweetlycharmingasI’dremembered.
OnlynowhehadaslightlySoutherndrawl.
MichaelYounghadasoftaccentthatmademewanttopersonallyhandwriteathank-younotetothegreatstateofTexasformakinghimevenmoreappealingthanhe’dalreadybeen.IcrossedmyarmsandprettymuchmeltedintoapuddleasIenjoyedtheview.
Jocelyn,whoImighthaveforgottenexistedinthepresenceofsuchlovelyMichaelhood,nudgedmewithherelbowandwhispered,“Settledown.You’redroolingalloveryourself.”
Irolledmyeyesandignoredher.
“Hey,listen.”WeshitcheduphisbackpackandpointedatMichael.“RememberRyanClark?”
“Ofcourse.”Michaelsmiledandlookedlikeacongressionalintern.“Firstbaseman,right?”
“Exactly.”Wesloweredhisvoice.“Ryno’shavingapartytomorrowathisdad’s—youshouldtotallycome.”
ItriedtokeepmyexpressionneutralasIlistenedtoWesaskmyMichaeltocometohisparty.Imean,WesdidhangoutwiththeguysthatMichaelusedtoknow,butstill.Theywerebestfriendsallofasuddenorsomething?
Thatwouldn’tbegoodforme.Couldn’tbe.
BecauseWesBennettgotoffonmessingwithme—healwayshad.Ingradeschool,Weswastheguywho’dputafroginmyBarbieDreamHouseandadecapitatedlawngnome’sseveredheadinmyhomemadeLittleFreeLibrary.Inmiddleschool,hewastheguywho’dthoughtitwashilarioustopretendhedidn’tseemewhenIwaslyingout,andthenwaterhismom’sbushes,“accidentally”sprayingthehoserightovermeuntilIscreamed.
Andnow,inhighschool,hewastheguywho’dmadeithismissiontoharassmedailyoverTheSpot.I’dgrownabackbonesincewewerekids,sotechnicallynowIwasthegirlwhoyelledoverthefencewhenhisjockfriendswereoverandtheyweresorowdy,Icouldhearthemovermymusic.Butstill.
“Soundsgood,”Michaelsaidwithanod,andIwonderedwhathe’dlooklikeinacowboyhatandflannelshirt.Maybeapairofshitkickers,eventhoughIdidn’ttechnicallyknowwhatdifferentiatedashitkickerfromaregularcowboyboot.
I’dhavetoGoogleitlater.
“I’lltextyouthedetails.Igottago—IfI’mlatetomynextclass,I’vegotdetentionforsure.”Heturnedandstartedjoggingintheotherdirectionwithayellof“Later,guys.”
MichaelwatchedWes’sdisappearancebeforelookingdownatmeanddrawling,“Helitoutofheresofast,Ididn’tgettoask.Isitcasualdress?”
“What?Um,theparty?”LikeIhadanyideawhattheyworetotheirjockstrapparties.“Probably?”
“I’llaskWesley.”
“Cool.”Iworkedtogivehimmytop-shelfsmile,eventhoughIwasdyingoverthefactthatWeshadscrewedupmymeet-cute.
“I’vegottaruntoo,”hesaid,butadded,“Ican’twaittocatchup,though.”
Thentakemewithyoutotheparty!Iyelledinternally.
“Joss?”Michaellookedpastme,andhismouthdroppedopen.“Isthatyou?”
Sherolledhereyes.“Tookyoulongenough.”
Jocelynhadalwaysbeenclosertotheneighborhoodboys,playingfootballwithWesandMichaelwhileIdidawfulcartwheelsaroundtheparkandmadeupsongs.Sincethen,she’dturnedintothistallandfreakishlygood-lookinghuman.Todayherbraidswereallpulledbackintoaponytail,butinsteadoflookingmessylikewhenIworeaponytail,itshowedoffhercheekbones.
Thewarningbellrang,andhepointedupatthespeaker.“That’sme.Seey’alllater.”
Y’all.
Hewenttheotherway,andJocelynandIstartedwalking.Isaid,“Ican’tbelieveWesdidn’tinviteustotheparty.”
Shegavemeside-eye.“DoyouevenknowwhoRynois?”
“No,butthat’sbesidethepoint.HeinvitedMichaelrightinfrontofus.It’scommoncourtesythatheshouldinviteus,too.”
“ButyouhateWes.”
“So?”
“Sowhywouldyouwanthimtoinviteyouanywhere?”
Isighed.“Hisrudenessjustpissesmeoff.”
“WellI,forone,amgladhedidn’t,becauseIdon’twanttogotoanypartythatthoseguysarehaving.I’vebeentoRyno’s,andit’sallaboutbeerbongs,Fireball,andthatnever-have-I-everkindofimmaturestuff.”
Jossusedtohangoutwiththepopularkidsbeforeshequitvolleyball,soshe’d“partied”alittlebeforewebecamefriends.“But—”
“Listen.”Jocelynstoppedwalkingandgrabbedmyarmtostopmefromwalkingtoo.“That’swhatIwasgoingtotellyou.KatesaidhelivesnextdoortoLaneyandthey’vebeentalkingforacoupleweeksnow.”
“Laney?LaneyMorgan?”Nooo.Itcouldn’tbetrue.No-no-no-no,please,God,no.“Buthejustgothere—”
“Apparentlyhemovedbackamonthagobutwasfinishingclassesonlineathisotherschool.RumorhasitthatheandLaneyarealmostofficial.”
NotLaney.MystomachclenchedasIpicturedherperfectlittlenose.Iknewitwasirrational,buttheideaofLaneyandMichaelwasalmosttoomuchformetobear.ThatgirlalwaysgoteverythingIwanted.Shecouldn’thavehim,dammit.
Thethoughtofthem,together,mademythroattight.Itmademyhearthurt.
Itwouldcrushme.
BecausenotonlywasheeverythingIdaydreamedabout,butheandIhadhistory.Thewonderful,importantkindofhistorythatinvolveddrinkingfromgardenhosesandcatchinglightningbugs.IthoughtbacktothelasttimeI’dseenMichael.It’dbeenathishouse.Hisfamilyhadhadacookouttosaygoodbyetoalltheneighbors,andI’dwalkedoverwithmyparents.Mymomhadmadeherfamouscheesecakebars,andMichaelhadmetusatthedoorandofferedusdrinkslikehewasagrown-up.
Mymomhadcalleditthemostadorablethingshe’deverseen.
Alltheneighborhoodkidsplayedkickballinthestreetforhoursthatnight,andtheadultsevenjoinedusforagame.Atonepoint,mymotherwashigh-fivingMichaelafterstealinghomebaseinherfloralsundressandwedgesandals.Thatmomentwaspressedinmymemorieslikeayellowedphotographinanantiquealbum.
Idon’tthinkMichaeleverhadaclueastohowmadlyinlovewithhimI’dbeen.Theymovedamonthbeforemymomdied,breakingthetipofmysoon-to-beshatteredheart.
JocelynlookedatmelikesheknewexactlywhatIwasthinking.“MichaelYoungisnotyourracing-to-the-train-stationdude.Gotit?”
Buthecouldbe.“Well,technicallytheyaren’tofficialyet,so…”
Westartedwalkingagain,dodgingbodiesasweheadedforherlocker.Wewereprobablygoingtobelatebecauseofourimpromptuhallwaymeet-upwithMichael,butitwouldtotallybeworthit.
“Seriously.Don’tbethatgirl.”Shegavemehermotherlyscowl.“ThattherewithMichaelwasnotyourmeet-cute.”
“But.”Ididn’tevenwanttosayitbecauseIdidn’twanthertoshootitdown.Still,IalmostsquealedwhenIsaid,“Whatifitwas?”
“Ohmygod.Iknew,thesecondIheardhewasback,thatyouweregoingtoloseit.”Hereyebrowswentdown,andsodidthecornersofherlipsasshestoppedinfrontofthelockerandturnedthelock.“Youdon’tevenknowtheguyanymore,Liz.”
Icouldstillhearhisdeepvoicesayingy’all,andmystomachdipped.“IknoweverythingIneedtoknow.”
Shesighedandpulledoutherbackpack.“IsthereanythingIcansaytoyankyoubackfromthis?”
Itiltedmyhead.“Um…hehatescats,maybe?”
Sheheldupafinger.“That’sright—Iforgot.Hehatescats.”
“Hedoesnot.”Igrinnedandsighed,thinkingback.“Heusedtohavethesetwosnarkycatsthatheadored.Youshould’veseenthewayhetreatedthosebabies.”
“Ew.”
“Whatever,hateroffelines.”Ifeltalive,buzzingwiththethrillofromanticpossibilitiesasIleanedagainsttheclosedlockernextdoor.“MichaelYoungisfairgameuntilIhearanofficialproclamation.”
“Ican’ttalktoyouwhenyou’relikethis.”
“Happy?Excited?Hopeful?”Iwantedtoskipdownthehallyell-singing“PaperRings.”
“Delusional.”Jocelynlookedatherphoneforaminute,thenbackatme.“Hey,mymomsaidshecantakeusdressshoppingtomorrownightifyouwant.”
Mymindwentblank.Ihadtosaysomething.“IthinkIhavetowork.”
Shenarrowedhereyes.“EverytimeIbringitup,youhavetowork.Don’tyouwanttogetadress?”
“Sure.Yeah.”Iforcedupthecornersofmymouth.“Ofcourse.”
ButthetruthwasthatIsodidnot.
Thethrillofthedresswasitsabilitytoinspireromance,tomakeone’sdatespeechless.Ifthatfactorwasn’tinplay,thepromdresswasjustanoverpricedwasteoffabric.
Addingtothat,therewasthescreamingfactthatshoppingwithJocelyn’smomfordresseswasjustahugereminderthatmymomwasn’ttheretojoinus,whichmadeitawildlyunappealingouting.Mymotherwouldn’tbetheretotakepicturesandgettearyasherbabyattendedthefinaldanceofherchildhood,andnothingmadethathithomequitelikeseeingJoss’smomdothosethingsforher.
Tobehonest,Ihadn’tbeenemotionallypreparedfortheemptinessthatseemedtoaccompanymysenioryear,themanyremindersofmymom’sabsence.Seniorpictures,homecoming,collegeapplications,prom,graduation;aseveryoneIknewgotexcitedaboutthosehighschoolbenchmarks,IgotstressheadachesbecausenothingfeltthewayI’dplannedforittofeel.
Everythingfelt…lonely.
Becauseeventhoughthesenioractivitieswerefun,withoutmymomtheywerevoidofsentimentality.Mydadtriedtobeinvolved,hereallydid,buthewasn’tanemotionalguy,soitalwaysjustfeltlikehewastheofficialphotographerasItraversedthehighlightsalone.
Meanwhile,Jossdidn’tunderstandwhyIdidn’twanttomakeabigdealoutofeverysingleseniormilestonelikeshedid.She’dbeenpissedatmeforthreedayswhenI’dblownoffthespringbreaktriptothebeach,butithadfeltmorelikeanexamIwasdreadingthananactualgoodtime,andIjustcouldn’t.
However.Findingarom-comhappyendingthatmymotherwouldhaveloved—thatcouldchangeallthebadfeelstogood,couldn’tit?
IsmiledatJocelyn.“I’lltextyouafterIcheckmyschedule.”CHAPTERTWO
“Awomanfriend.Thisisamazing.YoumaybethefirstattractivewomanIhavenotwantedtosleepwithinmyentirelife.”
—WhenHarryMetSally
Michaelwasback.
IproppedmyfeetuponthekitchentableanddugmyspoonintothecontainerofAmericoneDream,stillbesidemyselfwithgiddiness.Inmywildestdreams,Iwouldn’thaveimaginedthereturnofMichaelYoung.
Ididn’tthinkI’deverseehimagain.
Afterhemoved,Idaydreamedforyearsabouthimcomingback.IusedtoimagineIwasouttakingawalkononeofthosegloriouslycoldautumndaysthatwhisperedofwinter,theairsmellinglikesnow.I’dbewearingmyfavoriteoutfit—whichchangedwitheachimagining,ofcourse,becausethisfantasystartedbackingradeschool—andwhenI’dturnthecornerattheendoftheblock,therehe’dbe,walkingtowardme.Ithinktherewasevenromanticrunninginvolved.Imean,whywouldn’ttherebe?
Therewerealsonolessthanahundredbrokenheartedentriesinmychildhooddiariesabouthisexitfrommylife.I’dfoundthemafewyearsagowhenwewerecleaningoutthegarage,andtheentriesweresurprisinglydarkforalittlekid.
Probablybecausehisabsenceinmylifewastimedsocloselywithmymother’sdeath.
EventuallyI’dacceptedthatneitherofthemwerecomingback.
Butnowhe’dreturned.
Anditfeltlikegettingalittlepieceofhappinessback.
Ididn’thaveanyclasseswithhim,sofatecouldn’tintervenebythrowingustogether,whichsuckedsobadly.Imean,whatweretheoddsthatwe’dhavezerooccasionsforforcedinteraction?Josshadaclasswithhim,andclearlyWesdidaswell.Whynotme?HowwasIsupposedtoshowhimweweremeanttogotopromandfallinloveandlivehappilyeverafterwhenIdidn’teverseehim?IhummedalongtoAnnaoftheNorthinmyheadphones—thesexyhottubsongfromToAlltheBoysI’veLovedBefore—andstaredoutthewindowattherain.
TheonethinginmyfavorwasthatIwaskindofaloveexpert.
Ididn’thaveadegreeandIhadn’ttakenanyclasses,butI’dwatchedthousandsofhoursofromanticcomediesinmylife.AndIhadn’tjustwatched.I’danalyzedthemwiththeobservationalacuityofaclinicalpsychologist.
Notonlythat,butlovewasinmygenes.Mymotherhadbeenascreenwriterwho’dchurnedoutalotofgreatsmall-screenromanticcomedies.Mydadwas100percentcertainthatshewould’vebeenthenextNoraEphronifshe’djusthadalittlemoretime.
SoeventhoughIhadzeropracticalexperience,betweenmyinheritedknowledgeandmyextensiveresearch,Iknewalotaboutlove.AndeverythingIknewmademecertainthatinorderforMichaelandmetohappen,IwouldneedtobeatRyno’sparty.
Whichwasn’tgoingtobeeasy,becausenotonlydidIhavenoideawhoRynoevenwasbutIhadzerointerestinattendingapartyfilledwiththejocks’sweatyarmpitsandthepopulars’stinkybeerbreath.
ButIneededtogetreacquaintedwithMichaelbeforesomeawfulblondewhoshallremainnamelessbeatmetohim,soI’dhavetofindawaytomakeitwork.
LightningshotacrosstheskyandilluminatedWes’sbigcar,allsnuggledupagainstthecurbinfrontofmyhouse,rainbouncinghardoffofitshood.Thatassbaghadbeenrightbehindmeallthewayhomefromschool,andwhenI’dpulledforwardtoproperlyparallelpark,he’dslidrightintoTheSpot.
Whatkindofmonsterparkednose-firstinastreetspot?
AsIhonkedandyelledathimthroughthetorrentialdownpour,hewavedtomeandraninsidehishouse.Iendeduphavingtoparkaroundthecorner,infrontofMrs.Scarapelli’sduplex,andmyhairanddresshadbeendrenchedbythetimeIburstthroughmyfrontdoor.
Don’tevenaskaboutthenewshoes.
IlickedoffthespoonandwishedMichaellivednextdoorinsteadofWes.
Thenithitme.
“HolyGod.”
Weswasmyin.Wes,whohadinvitedMichaeltothepartyinthefirstplace,wouldobviouslybeattending.Whatifhecouldgetmein?
Although…hedidn’tdothingstohelpme.Like,ever.Wes’sjoywasderivedfromtorture,notgenerosity.SohowcouldIconvincehim?WhatcouldIgivehim?Ineededtocomeupwithsomething—sometangiblething—thatwouldgethimtohelpmeoutandkeephismouthshutatthesametime.
Idugoutanotherspoonfuloficecreamandputitinmymouth.Staredoutthewindow.
Thiswasano-brainer.
“Well,well.”Wesstoodinsidehishouse,behindthescreendoor,lookingoutatmeintherainwithasmirkonhisface.“TowhatdoIowethishonor?”
“Letmein.Ineedtotalk.”
“Idon’tknow—areyougoingtohurtmeifIletyouin?”
“Comeon,”Isaidthroughgrittedteethasthedrivingrainpeltedmyhead.“I’mgettingdrenchedouthere.”
“Iknow—andI’msorry—butIamseriouslyafraidyou’regoingtojunk-punchmeforstealingtheSpotifIletyoucomeinside.”Heopenedthedooracrack,enoughtoshowmehowwarmanddryhelookedinjeansandaT-shirt,andsaid,“You’realittlescarysometimes,Liz.”
“Wes!”Wes’smomcameupbehindhimandlookedhorrifiedasshesawmestandingoutintherain.“FortheloveofGod,openthedoorforthepoorgirl.”
“ButIthinkshe’sheretokillme.”Hesaiditlikeascaredlittlekid,andIcouldtellhismomwastryingnottosmile.
“Getinside,Liz.”Wes’smomgrabbedmyarmandgentlypulledmeacrossthethresholdtowhereitwaswarmandsmelledlikedryersheets.“Mysonisanuisanceandhe’ssorry.”
“No,I’mnot.”
“TellmewhathedidandI’llhelpyoupunishhim.”
Ipushedthewethairoffmyface,lookeddirectlyathim,andsaidtohismom,“HestolemyspotwhenIwastryingtoparallelpark.”
“OhmyGod,youtoldmymomonme?”Wesclosedthefrontdoorandfollowedmeandhismotherinside.“Well,ifwe’rerandomlytattling,Mom,IshouldprobablytellyouthatLizwastheonewhocalledthecopsonmycarwhenIhadpneumonia.”
“Wait,what?”Istoppedandturnedaround.“Whenwereyousick?”
“Well,whendidyoucall?”Heputbothhandsonhisheart,fake-coughed,andsaid,“Iwastooilltoevenmovemycar.”
“Stop.”Ididn’tknowifhewasmessingwithmeornot,butIsuspectedhewasn’t,andIfeltlikeamonsterbecauseasmuchasIlovedbestinghim,Ididn’tlikethethoughtofhimbeingsick.“Wereyouseriouslysick?”
Hisdarkeyessweptovermyface,andhesaid,“Wouldyouseriouslycare?”
“Knockitoff,youlittlebrats.”Hismomgesturedforustofollowherintothefamilyroom.“Sitonthecouch,eatsomecookies,andgetoveryourselves.”
Sheploppedaplateofchocolatechipcookiesdownonthecoffeetable,fetchedagallonofmilkandtwoglasses,tossedmeatowel,remindedWesthathehadtopickuphissisteratsixthirty,andthensheleftusalone.
Thewomanwasaforce.
“Ohh.”Kate&LeopoldwasplayingononeofthoseretroTVchannelsthatonlyoldpeoplewatched,andIrubbedthetowelovermyhairasMegRyan’scharactertriedevadingthecharmofaveryBritishHughJackman.“Ilovethismovie.”
“Ofcourseyoudo.”Hegavemeagrinthatmademeuncomfortable,likeheknewthingsaboutmethatIdidn’tknowheknew,andheleaneddownandgrabbedacookie.“Sowhatdoyouwanttotalktomeabout?”
Mycheeksgotwarm,mainlybecauseIwasscaredtodeathhewasgoingtomakefunofme—andtellMichael—whenItoldhimwhatIwanted.Isatdownonthesofa,setthetowelbesideme,andsaid,“Okay.Here’sthething.Ikindofneedyourhelp.”
Hestartedsmilingimmediately.Iheldupahandandsaid,“Nope.Listen.Iknowyou’renotonetohelpoutofthegoodnessofyourheart,soI’vegotapropositionforyou.”
“Ouch.LikeI’msomekindofamercenaryorsomething.Thathurts.”
“No,itdoesn’t.”
Heconcededwithashrug.“No,itreallydoesn’t.”
“Okay.”Ittookalotofself-controlnottorollmyeyesathim.“ButbeforeItellyouwhatIwantyoutohelpwith,Iwanttogooverthetermsofthedeal.”
Hecrossedhisarms—whenhadhischestgottensowide?—andtiltedhishead.“Goon.”
“Okay.”Itookadeepbreathandtuckedmyhairbehindmyears.“Firstofall,youhavetosweartosecrecy.Ifyoutellanyoneaboutourdeal,itisvoidandyoudon’tgetpayment.Second,ifyouagreetothedeal,youhavetoactuallyhelpme.Youcan’tjustdoalittleandthenblowmeoff.”
Ipaused,andhelookedatmethroughnarrowedeyes.“Well?What’sthepayment?”
“Thepaymentwillbeuncontested,twenty-four/sevenaccesstotheparkingspotforthedurationofourdeal.”
“Whoa.”Hewalkedoverandploppeddowninthechairacrossfromme.“YouwillgivemeTHEparkingspot?”
Isodidn’twantto,butIalsoknewhowbadlyWeswantedit.Heandhisdadwerealwaystinkeringwithhisoldcar,mostlybecauseitneverstarted,andtheirtoolboxeslookedwildlyheavywheneverIgotTheSpotandtheyhadtohaulthemallthewaydowntotheendofthestreettogetitgoing.“That’scorrect.”
Hissmilewentbig.“I’min.I’mdoingit.I’myourguy.”
“Youcan’tsaythatyet—youdon’tevenknowwhatthedealis.”
“Doesn’tmatter.I’lldowhateverittakes.”
“WhatifIwantyoutorunnakedthroughthecommonsduringlunch?”
“Done.”
Igrabbedthethrowthatwasfoldedoverthearmofthecouchandwrappeditaroundmyshoulders.“WhatifIwantyoutoturnnakedcartwheelsthroughthecommonsduringlunchwhilesingingtheentireHamiltonsoundtrack?”
“Yougotit.Ilove‘MyShot.’?”
“Seriously?”Thatmademesmile,eventhoughIwasn’tusedtosmilingatWes.“Butcanyouevendoacartwheel?”
“Yup.”
“Proveit.”
“You’resohighmaintenance.”Wesstood,shovedthecoffeetableoutofthewaywithhisfoot,anddidthemostawfulcartwheelI’deverseen.Hislegswerebentanddidn’tturnoverhisheadatall,buthestuckthelandingwithover-the-headgymnasticsarmsandaconfidentsmilebeforeploppingbackintohischair.“Nowtellme.”
IcoughedoutthelaughIwastryingtoholdinandsearchedhisface.Iwaslookingforhonesty,somekindofhintthatIcouldtrusthim,butIgotsidetrackedbyhowdarkhiseyeswereandthewayheflexedhisjaw.Ithoughtofthetimeinseventhgradewhenhe’dgivenmesixdollarstogetmetostopcrying.
Helenaandmydadhadjustgottenmarried,andthey’ddecidedtoremodelthemainlevelofthehouse.Inpreparation,Helenahadcleanedouttheclosetsanddrawersanddonatedalloftheoldstuff.Includingmymother’sDVDcollection
WhenI’dhadanemotionalmeltdownandmydadhadexplainedthesituationtoHelena,she’dfeltawful.She’dapologizedoverandoveragainwhileI’dsobbed.ButallI’dbeenabletofocusonwereherwordstomydad:“Ijustdidn’tthinkanyonewatchedthosecheesymovies.”
I’dbeenaresourcefulkid—stillwasresourceful,asprovenbymybeingatWes’shouseatthatverymoment—andithadonlytakenonephonecalltofindoutwherethemovieshadendedup.I’dsnuckout,lyingtomydadandsayingIwasgoingtoJocelyn’s,andriddenmybikeallthewaytothethriftstore.Ihadeverypennyofmybabysittingmoneyinmyfrontpocket,butwhenIgotthere,itwasn’tenough.
“We’regoingtosellthisasacollection,kid—youcan’tbythemindividually.”
Istaredatthatpricetag,andnomatterhowmanytimesIcounted,Iwassixdollarsshort.Thejerkatthestorewasunyielding,andIcriedallthewayhomeonmyhot-pinkbike.ItfeltlikeIwaslosingmymomalloveragain.
WhenIwasalmosthome,IsawWesbouncingabasketballinhisdriveway.Helookedatmewithhisusualface,halfsmilinglikeheknewsomesecretaboutme,butthenhestoppeddribbling.
“Hey.”Hetossedtheballontothegrassinhisfrontyardandwalkedtowardme.“What’swrong?”
IremembernotwantingtotellhimbecauseIknewhe’dthinkitwasridiculous,buttherewassomethingabouthiseyesthatmademebreakdownalloveragain.IbawledlikeababywhileItoldhimwhathappened,butinsteadoflaughingatme,helistened.Hestayedsilentthroughmyentirebreakdown,andonceIstoppedtalkingandstartedhiccuppingembarrassinglittlesobs,heleanedforwardandwipedmytearswithhisthumbs.
“Don’tcry,Liz.”Helookedsadwhenhesaidit,likehewantedtocrytoo.Thenhesaid,“Waithere.”
HegavemetheOnesecfingerbeforeturningandrunningintohishouse.Istoodthere,exhaustedfromthecryingandshockedbyhisniceness,andwhenhecameouthisfrontdoor,hegavemeaten-dollarbill.Irememberlookingupathimandthinkinghehadthekindestbrowneyes,butmythoughtsmust’veshownonmyfacebecauseheimmediatelygavemeascowlandsaid,“Thisisjusttoshutyouup’causeIcan’tstandtolistentoyoubawlingforanotherminute.AndIwantmychange.”
MymindjerkedmebacktoWes’sfamilyroom.Michael.TheSpot.NeedingWes’shelp.
Myeyesranoverhisface.Yeah,hisbrowneyesstilllookedexactlythesame
“Okay.”Ipickedupacookieandtookabite.“ButIswearoneverythingholythatIwillhireahitmanifyoublababoutthis.”
“Iverymuchbelieveyou.Nowspillit.”
Ihadtolookatsomethingotherthanhisface.Iwentwithmylap,staringatthesmoothtextureofmyleggingswhenIsaid,“Okay.Here’sthething.Michaelisbackintown,andIwaskindofhopingto,y’know,touchbasewithhim.Wewereclosebeforehemovedaway,andIwanttogetthatbackagain.”
“AndIcanhelpwiththathow,exactly?”
Ikeptmyeyesdown,tracingtheseamofmypantswithmyindexfinger.“Well,Idon’thaveanyclasseswithhim,sothere’snowayformetotalktohimnaturally.ButyouandMichaelarealreadyfriends.Youhangout.Youinvitedhimtoaparty.”IdaredtolookathimwhenIsaid,“You’vegottheconnectionthatIwant.”
Hetossedtherestofhiscookieintohismouth,cheweditup,anddustedhishandsonthekneesofhispants.“Letmegetthisstraight.Youarestillstarry-eyedoverYoung,andyouwantmetodragyoualongtoRyno’spartysoyoucangethimtolikeyou.”
Iconsidereddenyingit,butinsteadsaid,“Basically.”
Hisjawflexed.“Iheardhe’skindofinterestedinLaney.”
Ugh,no.Myownpersonalinvestmentinthesituationaside,LaneyMorganwastotallywrongforMichael.Infact,nudginghimtofallinlovewithmewouldbedoinghimafavorsimplybysavinghimfromthat.Isaid,“Don’tyouworryaboutthat.”
Aneyebrowwentup.“Howpositivelyscandalousofyou,Elizabeth.”
“Shutit.”
Hesmiled.“Youcan’tthinkthatjustshowingupatapartyisgoingtomakehimnoticeyou.There’sgoingtobeatonofpeoplethere.”
“Ionlyneedafewminutes.”
“Prettyconfident,arewe?”
“Iam.”I’dalreadywrittenascript.“Ihaveaplan.”
“Anditis…?”
Ituckedmylegsunderneathme.“LikeI’mtellingyou.”
“Nah.”Hegotup,movedtothecouch,andploppeddownbesideme.“Yourplansucks.”
Iwrappedthethrowmoretightlyaroundmyshoulders.“Howcouldyoupossiblyknowthatwhenyoudon’tknowmyplan?”
“BecauseI’veknownyousinceyouwerefive,Liz.I’msureyourplaninvolvesacontrivedmeeting,anentirenotebook’sworthofsillyideas,andsomeoneridingoffintothesunset.”
Hewasclose,butIsaid,“You’rewayoffbase.”
“Bet.”
Isighed.“So…?”AllIneededwasforTheSpottobeastrongerdrawthanWes’sdeterminationtoantagonizeme.
Wescrossedhisarmsandlookedpleasedwithhimself.“So…?”
“OhmyGod,you’retorturingmeonpurpose.Areyougoingtohelpmeornot?”
Hescratchedhischin.“Ijustdon’tknowifTheSpotisworthit.”
“Worthwhat?Allowingmetobeinyourpresenceforafewhours?”Ituckedawetcurlbehindmyear.“You’llbarelyevenknowI’mthere.”
“WhatifI’mtryingtohititoffwithsomeone?”Thelookonhisfacewassocreepy,Ismiledinspiteofmyself.“Yourpresencemightmesswithmymojo.”
“Trustme,youwon’tevennoticeme.I’llbetoobusymakingMichaelfallwildlyinlovewithmetoeventouchyourmojo.”
“Ew.Stoptalkingabouttouchingmymojo,youperv.”
Irolledmyeyesandturnedtowardhim.“Areyougoingtosayyes,orwhat?”
Hesmirkedandkickedhisfeetupontothecoffeetable.“IdolovewatchingyoutakethewalkofshamefromMrs.Scarapelli’s.It’skindofmynewfavoritehobby.SoIguessI’lldragyoualongtotheparty.”
“Yes!”Istoppedmyselffromdoingafistpumpinvictory.
“Settleyourassdown.”Wesleanedforward,grabbedtheremote,andturnedupthevolumeontheTVbeforelookingatmeasifIsmelledbad.“Wait—thismovie?Youlovethismovie?”
“Iknowit’saweirdpremise,butIsweartoyouthatit’sgreat.”
“I’veseenit.Thismovieistrash,areyoukiddingme?”
“Itisnottrash.It’saboutfindingsomeonesorightforyouthatyou’dbewillingtodropeverythingandtraversecenturiesforthem.Sheliterallyditchesherlifeandmovesto1876.Imean,thatisapowerfullove.”IlookedattheTV,andmybrainstartedquotingalongwiththemovie.“Areyousureyou’veseenthismovie?”
“I’mpositive.”HeshookhisheadandwatchedasStuartbeggedthenursetolethimleavethehospital.“Thismovieisformulaic,aspartame-infused,tropeygarbage.”
“Ofcourse.”WhywouldIexpectWestosurpriseme?“OfcourseWesBennettisarom-comsnob.Iwouldexpectnoless.”
“I’mnotarom-comsnob,whateverthatevenis,butadiscerningviewerwhoexpectsmorethanapredictableplotwithfill-in-the-blankcharacters.”
“Oh,please.”Iputmyfeetonthecoffeetable.“Explodingbuildingsandhigh-speedchasesaren’tpredictable?”
“You’remakingtheassumptionthatIlikeactionmovies.”
“Youdon’t?”
“Oh,Ido.”Hetossedtheremoteontothetableandgrabbedhisglass.“Butyoushouldn’tassume.”
“ButIwasright.”
“Whatever.”Hedrankthelastofhismilkandsetdownhisglass.“Bottomline—chickflicksarelaughinglyunrealistic.Like,‘Oh,thesetwoaresodifferentandhateeachothersomuch,but—wait.Aretheysodifferentafterall?’?”
“Enemies-to-lovers.It’saclassictrope.”
“Oh,goodGod,youthinkit’sawesome.”Henarrowedhiseyes,leanedover,andpattedmeonthehead.“Youpoor,confusedlittlelovelover.Tellmeyoudon’tthinkthismovieisremotelyconnectedtorealityinanyway.”
Ismackedhishandawayfrommyhead.“Yeah,becauseIbelieveintimetravel.”
“Notthat.”HegesturedtowardtheTV.“Timetravelisprobablythemostrealisticpart.I’mtalkingaboutrom-comsingeneral.Relationshipsneverever,everworklikethat.”
“Yes,theydo.”
Hiseyebrowswentup.“Theydo?CorrectmeifI’mwrong,butitdidn’tseemlikeitworkedthatwaywithJeremiahGreenorTadMiranda.”
Iwaskindoftakenabackbyhisawarenessofmyromantichistory(orlackthereof),butIsupposeditwasinevitablewhenwewereinthesamegradeatthesameschool.
“Well,theycan.”Ipushedmystill-damphairoutofmyfaceandwasn’tsurprisedthatWesthoughtthewayhedid.I’dneverheardofhimbeingseriouswithanygirl—ever—soitwasprobablysafetoassumehewasyourclassicplayer-typejock.“It’soutthere,evenifthejaded,cynicalpeoplelikeyouaretoo,um…cynicaltobelieve.”
“Yousaid‘cynical’twice.”
Sigh.
Hesmiledatmyirritation.“Soyouthinkthattwoenemies—intherealworld—canmagicallygetovertheirdifferencesandfallmadlyinlove?”
“Ido.”
“Andyouthinkthatplottingandplanningandtrickeryisnobigdealifit’sdonetosparksomesortoftruelove?”
Ichewedonmylip.WasthatwhatIwasdoing?Trickery?Thethoughtputalittletwistinmystomach,butIignoredit.Thatwasn’twhatwashappeninghere.Isaid,“You’remakingitsoundridiculousonpurpose.”
“Oh,no—it’sjustridiculous.”
“You’reridiculous.”IrealizedIwasgrittingmyteeth,andIrelaxedmyjaw.WhocaredwhatWesthoughtaboutlove,anyway?
Hegotalittlesmirkgoingandsaid,“Haveyouthoughtaboutthefactthatifyourlittlelovenotionsarevalid,thenMichaelisactuallynottheguyforyou?”
Nope;hewastheguyforme.Hadtobe.Still,Iasked,“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Atthispoint,youandMichaelaren’tmadateachother,soit’sdoomed.Everyrom-comhastwopeoplewhocan’tstandeachotherinthebeginningbuteventuallybangitout.”
“Gross.”
“Seriously.You’veGotMail.TheUglyTruth.Um…WhenHarryMetSally,10ThingsIHateAboutYou,SweetHomeAlabam—”
“Firstofall,SweetHomeAlabamaisasecond-chance-at-lovetrope,asshat.”
“Ooh—mybad.”
“Secondofall,you’realittleimpressivewithyourrom-comknowledge,Bennett.Areyousureyouaren’taclosetwatcher?”
Hegavemealook.“Positive.”
Ireallywasalittleimpressed;IlovedTheUglyTruth.“Iwon’ttellanyoneifyousecretlyfangirloverromanceflicks.”
“Shutit.”Hechuckledandgavehisheadaslowshake.“SowhattropeworksforyouandMichael,then?Thefollowed-him-around-like-a-puppy-but-now-he-sees-the-puppy-as-a-potential-girlfriend-even-though-he-already-has-a-potential-girlfriendtrope?”
“Youareanobnoxiouslovehater.”ItwasallIcouldthinkoftothrowbackathim,because—allofasudden—Weshadtheuncannyabilitytomakemelaugh.Like,evenashemadefunofme,Ihadtoforcemyselftonotgiveintoanothergiggle.
Butwehadadeal,soweexchangednumberssohecouldtextmeafterhetalkedtoMichael,andwedecidedthathewasgoingtopickmeupforthepartyatseveno’clockthefollowingday.
AsIwalkedbacktomyhouseintherain,Icouldn’tbelievehe’dagreedtoit.IwasalittleunsureaboutgoinganywherewithWes,butagirldidwhatshehadtointhenameoftruelove.
Iwasn’tafanofrunningintherainorinthedark,sodoingbothatthesametimewasamajorsuckfest.HelenahadmadespaghettibythetimeI’dgottenhomefromWes’s,soI’dhadtositdownforafull-scalefamilydinner—completewithHowwasyourdayconversation—beforeIcouldtakeoff.Mydadtriedtoconvincemetohitthenewtreadmillhe’dboughtthedaybefore,sinceitwaspouringoutside,butthatwasanon-optionforme.
Mydailyrunhadnothingtodowithexercise.
Itightenedthestringonmyhood,putmyheaddown,andhitthesidewalk,myworn-outBrookssplashingwaterupontomyleggingswitheverystep.Itwascoldandmiserable,andIpickedupmypacewhenIturnedthecornerattheendofthestreetandcouldseethecemeterythroughthedownpour.
Ididn’tslowuntilIwentthroughthegates,upthefamiliarone-laneblacktoproad,andjustpastthecrookedelm;thenIranfifteenstepsfarthertotheleft.
“Thisweathersucks,Ma,”IsaidasIstoppednexttomymother’sheadstone,puttingmyhandsonmyhipsandsuckingairwhiletryingtoslowmypant.“Seriously.”
Idroppedtoasquatbesideher,runningmyhandovertheslickmarble.Iusuallysatdownonthegrass,butitwaswaytoowetforthat.Thedrivingrainmadeitseemevendarkerthannormalintheshadedcemetery,butIknewtheplacebyheart,soitdidn’tbotherme.
Inaweirdway,thiswasmyhappyplace.
“SoMichaelisback—I’msureyousaw—andheseemsjustasperfectasever.I’mgoingtoseehimagaintomorrow.”Ipicturedherface,likeIalwaysdidwhenIwashere,andsaid,“You’dbeexcitedaboutthisone.”EvenifIhadtogotoWesforhelp.MymomhadalwaysthoughtWeswassweetbutthatheplayedtoorough.
“Itjustfeelslikeit’safatething,thewayhewaskindofdroppedintomylaprightafterIwaslisteningto‘SomeoneLikeYou.’Imean,what’smorefate-ythanthat?Yourfavoritesong,fromourfavoritemovie,andourfavoritecute-ex-neighborjusthappenedtodropin?Ifeellikeyou’rewritingthisHappilyEverAfterfromyourspot…”
Itrailedoffandgesturedatthesky.“Uptheresomewhere.”
Eventhecoldraincouldn’tkeepmefrombeingexcitedasIdescribedhisSouthern“y’all”accentformymom.Isquattedbesideherchiselednameandrambled,likeIdideveryday,untilthealarmonmyphonebuzzed.Thisritualhadkindofbecomelikeanoraldiaryovertheyears,exceptIwasn’trecording,andnoonewaslistening.Well,except—Ihopedmymomwas.
Itwastimetoheadback.
Istoodandpattedherheadstone.“Seeyoutomorrow.Loveyou.”
Itookadeepbreathbeforeturningandjoggingdownthehill.Therainwasstillcomingdownhard,butmusclememorymadeiteasytostayonthepath.
AndasIranpastWes’shouseandturnedintomydriveway,IrealizedIwasmoreexcitedthanI’dbeeninareallylongtime.
“Liz.”
IglancedupfrommyLithomeworktoseeJossclimbinginmywindow,withKateandCassidyfollowingbehindher.We’ddiscoveredyearsagothatifyouclimbedontotheroofofmyoldplayhouseinthebackyard,youwerejusthighenoughtoslideopenthebedroomwindowandsteprightin.
“Hey,guys.”Icrackedmybackandturnedaroundinmydeskchair,surprisedtoseethem.“What’sup?”
“Wejustgotdonewithaplanningmeetingfortheseniorprank,butwedon’twanttogohomeyetbecausemydadsaidIcouldstayoutuntilnine,andit’sonlyeightforty.”Cassidy—whoseparentswerewickedstrict—ploppeddownonmybed,andKatefollowed,whileJosssatherbacksideonmywindowseatandsaid,“Sowe’rehidingherefortwentymoreminutes.”
Ireadiedmyselfforpressurefromthemabouttheseniorprank.
“Itwasbasically,like,thirtypeoplejammedintoBurgerKing,loudlyshoutingoutideasofthingstheythinkarefunny.”Jossgiggledandsaid,“TylerBeckthinksweshouldjustletloosewith,like,twentythousandSuperBallsinthehallways—andheknowsaguywhocanhookusup.”
Katelaughedandsaid,“SweartoGodhehadthewholegroupconvinceditwasthemoneyidea.Untilhesaidhewouldneedactualmoney.”
“Weseniorsarefunny,butcheapashell.”Cassidylaybackonmybedandsaid,“IpersonallylikedJoeyLee’sideatojustsayscrewitanddosomethinghorrible,likeflippingoveralltheshelvesinthelibraryorfloodingtheschool.Hesaiditwas‘ironicallyfunnybecauseit’ssoterriblynotfunny’andthatit‘wouldneverbeforgotten.’?”
“That’sdefinitelytrue,”Isaid,takingoutmyponytailanddiggingmyhandsintomyhair.Ididn’twanttolookatJossbecauseIfeltlikeshe’dtakeoneglanceandknowI’dbeenschemingwithWes,soIkeptmyeyesonCass.
“Youshould’vebeenthere,Liz,”Josssaid,andIpreparedmyselfforwhatcamenext.Alectureabouthowwewereonlyseniorsonce,perhaps?Shewasreallygoodatthose.Justdoit,Liz.We’reonlyhighschoolseniorsforafewmoremonths.
ButwhenIlookedather,shegrinnedinsteadandsaid,“Everyonewastalkingaboutideas,andthenConnerAbelsaid,‘Myhousegotforkedonce.’?”
Mymouthfellopen.“Shutup!”
“Right?”Katesquealed.
Lastyear,whenIwascrushinghardonConner,wethoughtit’dbefunnytoforkhisfrontyardoneSaturdaynightwhentherewasnothinggoingonandwewereallsleepingoveratmyhouse.Yes,itwassilly,butwewerejuniors—wedidn’tknowanybetter.Butinthemiddleofthemidnightforking,hisdadcameoutsidetoletthedogdoitsbusiness.Wetookoffrunningintotheneighbor’syard,butnotbeforethedogmanagedtocatchhisteethonJoss’spajamapants,exposingherunderwearforalltosee.
Josscackledandsaid,“Itwashilariousbecause,youknow,heutteredthebizarrowords‘Myhousegotforked.’?”
“Icannotbelievehesaidthat,”Ilaughed.
Sheshookherheadandadded,“Butitwasalsofunnybecausesomeoneaskedhimwhatthehellhewastalkingabout,andlistentothis.Hesaid,andIquote,‘Abunchofgirlsstuckforksallovermyfrontyardlastyear,andthenonemooneduswhilerunningaway.Ishityounot,dudes.’?”
“Shutup!”Idiedlaughingthen,leaningintothememoryofthosegoodtimes.Theywerepure,inaway,untouchedbymystressfulseniorissuesthathadstainedthememorieswe’dbeenmakingthisyear.“Diditkillyounottotakecreditforit?”
Shenodded,stood,andwentovertomycloset.“Bigtime,butIknewwe’dcomeoutlookinglikeobsessedstalkersifIconfessed.”
Iwatchedassheflippedthroughmydresses,andthensheasked,“Where’stheredcheckeddress?”
“It’sbuffaloplaid,andit’sontheotherside.”Ipointedandsaid,“Withthecasualshirts.”
“Iknewthelayout,butIwould’vepictureditwiththedresses.”
“Toocasual.”
“Ofcourse.”Shelookedthroughtheotherrack,foundthedress,andthenpulleditoffthehangeranddrapeditoverherarm.“Sowhat’dyoudotonight?Justhomework?”
Iblinked,caughtintheheadlights,butCassandKateweren’tevenpayingattention,andJosswaslookingatthedress.Iclearedmythroatandmutteredaquick,“Prettymuch.Hey—doyouknowhowmuchofGatsbywe’resupposedtoreadfortomorrow?”
Casssaid,“Guys,weneedtohitit”atthesametimeJosssaid,“Therestofit.”
“Thanks,”Imanaged,whilemyfriendsmadetheirwaytothewindowandscrambledoutthesamewaythey’dcome.Josswasabouttoswingherlegoverwhenshesaid,“Yourhairlookssupercutelikethat,bytheway.Didyoucurlit?”
IthoughtofWes’slivingroomandhowdrenchedmyhairhadbeenwhenI’darrived.“No.I,um,Ijustgotcaughtintherainafterschool.”
Shesmiled.“Youshouldbesoluckyeveryday,right?”
“Yeah.”IpicturedWes’scartwheelandwantedtorollmyeyes.“Right.”CHAPTERTHREE
“You’relate.”
“You’restunning.”
“You’reforgiven.”
—PrettyWoman
ItwassevenfifteenandWeshadn’tshownupyet.
“Maybeyoushouldwalkoverthere.”Mydadlookedupfromhisbookandstareddirectlyatmytappingfingernails.“Imean,itisWes.”
“Translation,”saidHelena,givingmeasmirk.“Yourtappingisdrivinghimtodistractionandhethinksyourdateiscapableofforgettingyouentirely.”
“Thisisn’tadate.”
Mydadignoredmycomment,sethisbookdownonthetablebesidehim,andgaveHelenaagrin.“Actually,hertappingisdrivingmetodistractionandWesBennettiscapableofanything.”
MydadandHelenastarteddoingtheirhilariousbanterthingontheloveseat,andIhadtofighttoholdintheeyeroll.Helenawasawesome—sheremindedmeofablondLorelaiGilmore—butsheandmydadweresometimesalottotake.
He’dmetherinastuckelevator—forreal—exactlyoneyearaftermymotherhaddied.They’dspenttwohoursinforcedconfinementbetweentheeighthandninthfloorsattheFirstNationalbuildingdowntown,andthey’dbeeninseparableeversince.
Itwastheepitomeofironythatthey’dhadtheultimatemeet-cuteandseemedmadeforeachother,becauseshewasthepolaroppositeofmymother.Mymotherhadbeensweet,patient,andadorable,likeamodernversionofDorisDay.She’dloveddresses,homemadebread,andfresh-cutflowersfromhergarden;thatwasallpartofwhatmyfatherhadfallenmadlyinlovewith.
He’dsaidshewasenchanting.
Helena,ontheotherhand,wassarcasticandbeautiful.ShewasjeansandaT-shirt,let’s-pick-up-takeout,I-don’t-like-rom-coms,yetmydadwaslosttohertheminutethathigh-riseelevatormalfunctioned.
Inaninstant,I’dlostmygrievingbuddyandgainedawomanwhowasnothinglikethemomI’dcriedforeverynight.
Thathadbeenalotforeleven-year-oldLiztohandle.
Icheckedmyphone—nomessagefromWes.Hewasfifteen—no,seventeen—minuteslate,andhestillhadn’tsentasingleSorryI’mrunninglatetext.
WhyhadIevenbotheredbeingreadyontime?He’dprobablyforgottenallaboutmeandwasalreadyatthepartywithabeerinhishand.He’dtextedmelastnighttosaythatMichaelwashappytohearI’dbegoingtotheparty,andit’dkilledmenottoaskallthemiddleschoolquestions.
Didhesayanythingaboutme?
Tellmehisexactwords.
Ultimately,I’drefrainedbecauseWeswouldonlyusethatagainstme.
MyphonebuzzedandIpulleditoutofmypocket.
Jocelyn:What’reyoudoing?
Iputitbackwithoutrespondingasguilttwistedaroundinmybelly.Iusuallytoldhereverything,butIknewshewouldn’tapproveofmegoingtotheparty.DoyouevenknowwhoRynois?MichaelYoungisNOTyourracing-to-the-train-stationdude.Theminuteshe’dsaidthat,I’dknownshehadnoideahowmuchthismatteredtome.
Iwasgoingtojustgototheparty,andI’dtextherafterIgothome.
Mydadasked,“You’llbehomebymidnight?”
“Yep.”
“Notasecondlater,understand?”Mydadlookedmoreseriousthanusualandadded,“Nothinggoodhappensaftermidnight.”
“Iknow,Iknow.”HesaidthosewordseverysingletimeIwentout.“I’llcallif—”
“No,youwon’t.”Myalwayslaid-backfathergaveashakeofhisheadandpointedatme.“Youwilljustmakeitaprioritytonotbelate.Understand?”
“Honey,relax—shegetsit.”HelenaandIexchangedlooksofunderstandingbeforeshepointedoutthewindowandstartedramblingtohimaboutthegrass.Mydadwasonlyevertensewhenitcametocurfew,anditwasonlybecauseofmymother’sdeath.HisfavoritethingtosayifIeverdaredtopushbackwasIfyourmomhadn’tbeenoutatmidnight,thatdrunkdrivercouldn’thavehither.
Andhewasright.Andintense.SoIprettymuchalwaysshutupaboutit.
Ikepttappingmynailsontheendtable,shakingmycrossedlegsasnervessettledin.Iwasn’tnervousaboutMichael;Iwasexcitedaboutthatpart.WhatIwasnervousaboutwasgoingtoapartywiththepopulars.Ididn’tknowanyofthembesidesWes,andmyawkwardselfknewevenlessabouthowtoactatakegparty.
BecauseI’dneverbeentoakegparty.
Iwasmoreofalow-keygirl.OnatypicalFridaynight,Joss,Kate,Cassidy,andIwenttoamovieorhungoutatthebookstoreormaybewenttoApplebee’sforcheapappetizers.OccasionallywewentshoppingandendedupatDenny’sorScooter’sCoffee.
AndIlikedmypredictablelife.Iunderstoodit,controlledit,anditmadesensetome.Inmyhead,mylifewasarom-comandIwaslivingitlikeaMegRyan–typecharacter.Cutedresses,goodfriends,andtheeventualappearanceofaboywhowouldfindmelovely.Kegpartiesplayednopartinthat.TheybelongedinaSuperbadkindoflife,right?
“Andtheparentsarehome?”
IrolledmyeyesandMr.Fitzpervertjumpedontomylap.“Yes,Dad,theparentsarehome.”
Spoiler:theywerenothome.
ButmydadandHelenaweresuperchillparents.Theytrustedme,mainlybecauseIrarelywentoutandnevergotintotrouble,sotheydidn’tfeeltheneedtocallandcheckuponmewhenIwasawayfromhome.Soyeah—Ifeltalittleguiltyaboutlying,butsinceIdidn’tplantodoanythingtheywouldn’tapproveof(exceptabest-casescenariothathadmeandMichaelkissingonthebackporchunderaclearnightskywith“oceaneyes”byBillieEilishonaspeakerinthebackgroundandhishandscradlingmyfaceasmyrightfootpoppedatjusttherightmomentlikeinthemovies),myguiltwasbutafractionofwhatitcould’vebeen.
IscratchedbehindFitzpervert’sear,whichmadehimpurrandbitemyhand.
Hewassuchadick.
HewascurrentlysportingtheginghambowtiethatI’dpurchasedonDapperTabby.com,sohelookeddashinginanI-want-to-murder-you-but-I-eat-too-much-to-actually-movekindofway.Thetiedidaccentuatehisrecentweightgain,soIwasn’tmadthathe’dlashedout.
Igotit.
Isethimonthefloorandwalkedovertothewindow,andtherewasWes,asifmythoughtshadsummonedhim.Hehoppeddownhisporchstepswearingjeansandahoodie,andproceededtowalkacrossourfrontyard.
“He’shere.Bye,guys.”Igrabbedmypurseandreachedforthedoor.
“Haveanicetime,sweetie.”
“Doyouhavemoneyforapayphone?”Helenaasked.
IsquintedatHelena,whoshruggedandadded,“Imean,youneverknow.Youcouldgetintoawholetimemachine,BacktotheFuturethingandneedapayphonetogethome,andwhatwouldyoudothen?”
Ididrollmyeyesthen.“Yes,um—Idefinitelyhaveenoughmoneytogetbacktothisdecadeshouldwefindaholeinthespace-timecontinuum.Thankyou.”
Shenoddedandputherfeetuponmydad’slap.“You’rewelcome.Nowbeatit,kid.”
IopenedthefrontdoorbeforeWescouldknock,andcloseditquicklybehindme.Whichresultedinusnearlyrunningintoeachother.Hestoppedjustintime,lookingalittlesurprised.
“Hey,”Isaid.
“Hey.”Helookedaroundmeandsaid,“Idon’thavetocomeinforaparentallecture?”
Icouldn’tanswerforasecondbecauseitwasabitjarringseeingWesstandingonmyporchatdusk,smellinglightlyofmusky-manlycologneandlookingfreshlyshowered.He’dbeennextdoormyentirelife,butitwassurrealthatourparallelliveswereactuallyintersecting.
“Nah,”IsaidasIdroppedmykeysintomypurseandstartedwalkingtowardhiscar,whichwas,ofcourse,inTheSpot.“Theyknowthisisn’tadate.”
Itonlytookhimtwosteps,andhecaughtuptome.“ButwhatifIwantedtodeclaremyintentionstoyourfather?”
“Yourintentions?”Istoppedbesidehiscar.“Doyoumeanhowyouintendtoirritatemeformultiplehoursinarowtonight?”
Hehitunlockandopenedthedoorforme.“IwasactuallyreferringtothewayIintendonblowingoffthepartyentirelytouseyourbodyasahumanshieldatthepaintballrange.”
“Don’tevenjokeaboutgettingneonpaintonthisdress.”
Heshutmydoor,wentaroundthecar,andgotbehindthewheel.“Yeah,what’swiththedress?Ikindofthoughtyou’dwearsomethingnormaltoaparty.”
“Thisisnormal.”Ibuckledmyseatbeltandpulleddownthevisortocheckmymakeup.AsifWesknewanythingaboutfashion.Iwasinlovemymustardjumperdressanditsflowerbuttons.
Hestartedhiscarandputitindrive.“Foryou,maybe.Iguaranteeyou’llbetheonlypersonatRyno’swearingadress.”
“WhichwillmakeMichaelnoticeme.”Ireachedintomypocket—becauseofcoursemydresshadpockets—andopenedthetubeoflipstickthatwasinside.MyhandswereshakingandItookadeepbreath,tryingtomakemyselfchill.Itwashard,though,wheninmereminutesI’dbeface-to-facewiththeboyI’ddaydreamedaboutformorethanhalfmylife.
Deepbreath.
“Yeah,that’sdefinitelytrue.”Hepulledawayfromthecurbandaddedinacowboyvoice,“Howdy,partner.Who’sthefillyinthedressthat’sblockingmyviewofthehotgirls?”
“Oh,comeon.Michaeldoesnottalklikethat.”Isnort-laughedinspiteofmyself,whichscrewedupthelipstickapplicationasIlookedinthevisormirror.“Hespeaksliketheintelligent,charismaticguythatheis.”
“Asifyouevenknow.”HeturnedrightonTealStreet,andhisfootwasheavyonthegaspedal.“Thelasttimeweknewhim,hewasafourthgrader.”
“Fifth.”Iputthecapbackonthelipstick.“AndIcanjusttell.”
“Oh,youcantell.”Hemadealittlenoisethatwastheequivalentofhimcallingmeachild.“Forallyouknow,he’sspentthepastfewyearstorturingbabysquirrels.”
“Forallyouknow,”Isaid,flippingthevisorbackupandreachingouttoturnonhisradio,“he’sspentthelastfewyearsbottle-feedingorphanedbabysquirrels.”
“Well,ifyouaskme,thatisnolessalarming.”
Irolledmyeyesandturnedthestation,mildlyirritatedthathe,too,thoughtIwasridiculous.Theydidn’tunderstandhowfatedhisreappearancewas,soIwasjustgoingtoignoretheirnegativity.
IlovedJay-Z,butIwasfeelingmyselfinmyjumperdresssoIscannedawayfromrapuntilIfoundastationplayingasuperoldSelenaGomezsong.ThatearnedmeanotherdisapprovingnoisebeforeWesswitcheditbackto“PSA.”
“Hey—Ilikedthatsong.”
“YoulikeasongaboutSelenaGomezthirstingoverJustinBieber?”
Ilookedoverathissmirkingface.“Youareseriouslydisgusting.”
“You’retheonewholikesthatseriouslydisgustingsong.”
Ifmymomhadbeenrightaboutthewholeyour-eyes-are-going-to-stay-that-wayrule,spendingtimewithWeswasgoingtoleavemevisuallyimpairedfortherestofmylife.
“You’renotgoingtoknock?”
WesstoppedwithhishandonthefrontdoorknobandlookedatmelikeIwasfromanotherplanet.“WhywouldI?”
“Becauseitisn’tyourhouse?”
“Butit’sRyan’s;I’vebeenhereahundredtimes.”Hepushedopenthefrontdoor.“Andwe’regoingtoapartyinthebasement,notawinetastingintheformaldiningroom.Thebutlerdoesn’tneedtoannounceourarrivalthistime.”
“Iknowthat,youjag.”
Hegrinnedandgesturedformetogoaheadofhim.
Isteppedinsidethefancyfoyer,withmarbleonthefloorandaglasschandelieroverhead,anditwasquiet.Tooquiet.Mystomachwasfullofbutterflies,andIkindofwantedtogohome,despiteknowingthatMichaelwaslikelyalreadyhere.
“Relax,Libby.”
WeswaslookingatmeasifheknewhownervousIwas,andthetoneofhisvoicetoldmehewasactuallytryingtomakemefeelbetter.Thatseemedlikeastretch,though,whenhewasprobablyjustthinkinghowhilariousitwasthatIwassuchanerdymouse.
“Noonecallsme‘Libby.’?”Mymomhad,butsinceshewasn’tthereanymore,Icouldn’tcounther,right?
“Aw—thenIhaveaperfectpetnameforyoualready.”
“No.Ihateit.”Ihadn’talways,butIdidnow.
“Oh,youdonot.”Henudgedmyarmwithhiselbow.“Andyoucancallme‘Wessy’ifyouwant.”
Icouldn’tnotlaughatthat;hewassoridiculous.“Iwillnotwanttodothat,like,ever.”
Hewalkedovertoadoorandopenedit,andnoisescameupfromthebottomofthestairs.“Readytoparty?”
Notatall.“Hey—don’tditchmeuntilIfindMichael,okay?”
“Callme‘Wessy,’andItotallywon’t.”
Isnorted.“Fine.Ifyouditchme,Wessy,Iwillstabyouwiththekegtap.”
“MylittleLibbyissuchasavage.”
“Whereishe?”
Wesgavemealookaswestoodnearthekeg.“We’veonlybeenheretenminutes—chill.He’sheresomewhere.”
IheldtheredSOLOcupbetweenmyhandsandlookedaround.“UpAllNight”byMacMillerwouldbetheperfectchoiceifacameraweretopanoutandcapturetheenergyoftheparty.Becausetherewerealotofpeopleinthatunfinishedbasement,yellingandlaughingandguzzlingwarmishbeer.AsmallgroupsataroundatableinthecornerplayingPresidentsandAssholes,whichappearedtobeagameinvolvingcards,drinking,andsporadicallyyelling,“Ooh-weebaby!”
ButIdidn’tcareaboutanyofthat.IonlywantedtoseeMichael.Iwantedmyreunited-and-it-feels-so-goodmomentwithhim,ourchildhood-coming-full-circlemoment,andeverythingelsewasjustbackgroundnoise.
“Maybeyoushouldrelaxandtryhavingfun.”Wespulledhisphoneoutofhisfrontpocket,checkedmessages,thenputitback.“Youdoknowhowtodothat,don’tyou?”
“Ofcourse,”Isaid,takingasipofthebeerandtryingnottolooklikeIfounditasdisgustingasIactuallydid.ButIreallyhadnoideahowtohavefunatapartylikethat;hewasright.
Wesfitin,though.
Sincetheminutewe’dwalkeddownstairs,hisnamehadbeenshoutednolessthantentimes.Ourentirehighschoolclassseemedtoadoremyannoyingneighbor.Weird,right?Whatwasevenweirderwasthatsofar,hehadn’tturnedintothedude-broIimaginedhimtobeinapartysituation.
Hehadn’tleftmebymyself,hadn’tdoneakegstand,andhadn’tdiscussedbreastsand/orbuttswithhisfriendsinfrontofme.Imean,he’dpassedonbeerandwasdrinkingwaterbecausehehadtodrive,forGod’ssake.Whowasthisguy?TheguyI’dassumedhimtobewould’vebeer-bongedwhiledriving.
Neighborhoodfriendswerelikethat.Yougrewupwiththem,runningoverhotsidewalksandyellingtoeachotheracrossfresh-cutlawns,butonceyougotolder,youbecameacquaintancesbornofproximitywithnothingbutasurfacelevelofbasicknowledge.Iknewheparkedlikeanass,playedaballsport—baseballmaybe?—andwasalwayslaughingandloudwhenIsawhimatschool.I’msureheknewevenlessaboutme.
“Wesley!”Aprettyblondgirlsquealedandgavehimabighug.Helookedatmeoverhershoulderassheverynearlyjumpedonhim,andIrolledmyeyes,whichmadehimlaugh.Theblondepulledbackandsaid,“Whattookyousolong?I’vebeenlookingforyoueverywhere.”
“IhadtopickupLiz.”Hegesturedtowardme,butshedidn’teventurnaround.Thegirlwasstanding,like,aninchawayfromhimasshesaid,“Youlookreallyhottonight.”
Wasthathowtheupperechelonofmygenderlandedboyfriendsatmyschool?Ifso,I’dneverhaveashotatMichaelbecauseIwasabigfanofpersonalspace.IactuallyfeltalittlesorryforWeswhenheswallowedandtookthetinieststepbackward.Hesaid,“Uh,thanks,Ash.”
“Iprobablyshouldn’ttellyouthat.”Shewaskindofyellingoverthenoise,butWesstilllookeduncomfortable,liketheywerealoneinadarkroomandthedoorwaslocked.“Butwhatthehell,right?”
Shedidn’tmovefromdeepwithinWes’sspace,soItappedherontheshoulder.Hewasachildhoodpal,Isupposed,soitwasprobablymyneighborlydutytosavehimatleastonce.
Sheturnedaroundandsmiled.“Hey.”
“Hey.”Ismiledandtouchedherarm.“Listen.”
Ileanedoverandputmymouthclosertoherear,andIwantedtogigglewhenIsawWes’seyebrowgouplikeaquestionmark.Isaidtoher,“Don’ttellanyone,butWesandIarekindof…y’know…”
“Together?”Hereyesnarrowedinconfusionandthenshesmiled.Noddedslowly.“Ihadnoide—I’msosorry!”
“Shh.”Thegirlwasloud.“Noworriesatall,we’rejustkeepingitquiet.”
“Imean,Iwasgoingafterhimhard-core.”Shegesturedtoherselfwithbothofherpointerfingersandlaughed.“Ididnotmeantomakeamoveonyourman!”
IshookmyheadandwantedthattimemachineHelenahadmentioned,aseverythingclickedintoplace.She—Ash—wasAshleySparks.OhmyGod.Notonlywassheloud,butshewassuperpopularandaterriblegossip.EverypersoninthisbuildingwouldthinkWesandIweretogetherinprobablyabouttenminutes.Ishushedherandsaid,“Shh…nobiggie.Heisn’tmymanyet,so—”
“Hewillbe,girl.”ShenudgedmewithhershoulderandgrinnedatWes.“Yougogetit.”
“OhmyGod.”Imuttered,“Shh.Um,okay.”
ShewalkedawayandIsqueezedmyeyesshut,notwantingtolookathim.
“Didyoujusttellherthat—”
Iopenedmyeyes.“Yep.”
Hebenthiskneessohisfacewaslevelwithmine,andhiseyesweresquintywhenhesaid,“Whywouldyoudothat?”
Iswallowedandlookeddownatmybeer.“Well,Iwastryingtosaveyou,um,fromheramorousclutches.”
Hestartedlaughing.Hard.Iraisedmyeyestohisface,andIcouldn’tstopmyselffromjoining,becausehehadoneofthoselaughs.Happyandmischievousandfull-onlittleboy;itwascontagious.Andreally,itwasridiculousthatI’dtriedtosavesixandahalffeetofWesfromthehotgirlthatclearlywantedtogetwithhim.Ihadtearsinmyeyesbythetimewegotourselvesundercontrol.
“Hey,y’all.”MichaelcameupbesideWesandsaidsomethingaboutbeer,butmyheartstartedbeatingsofastthatfaintingbecameadistinctpossibilityandIdidn’thearanythinghesaid.ThenoiseofthepartydimmedtoabuzzingmurmurasIsqueezedmyfingersaroundmyredSOLOcupanddrankhimin.HewaseverythingIremembered,butbetter.HissmilewasthesamepowerfulweaponthatmademefeelbothqueasyandlikeImightspontaneouslycombust,allatthesametime.
WesandMichaelkepttalking,butIheardnoneoftheirwordsasIraisedmycuptomylips,wishingsobadlythatIhadheadphoneswithme.Because“HowWouldYouFeel”byEdSheerandefinitelyshould’vebeenplayingwhilemyeyesstrolledoverhisthickhair,hisprettyeyes,andthoseperfectteeththatwerebaredashesmiledatWes.
Notetoself:CreatetheSoundtrackofMichaelandLizafteryougethome.
“Howhaveyoubeen,Liz?”Heturnedhisattentiontome,andmyinsidesmeltedalltogetherwhenhesmiled.“Youlookexactlythesame.Iwould’verecognizedyouanywhere.”
Myvoicewouldn’tworkforasecondandmyfacewasonfire,butthenImanagedtobreathetheword,“Same.”
“Sowheredoyouwork?”
“What?”
Hegesturedtomydress.“Youruniform…?”
“Oh.”Ohno.Hethoughtmyadorabledress,theonethatwassupposedtomakemestandoutfromthecrowdtohim,wasawaitressuniform.
Killmenow.
IlookedatWes,andhegavemeaLet’s-see-how-you’re-going-to-get-out-of-thislook.Istammered,“Myuniform.Yeah.Um,I,uh,pickuphourssometimesatthediner.”
“Whatdiner?”
“The,uh,TheDiner.”
Wes’sfaceopenedintoahugegrin.“IloveTheDiner.”
SweatbeadsformedonthetipofmynoseasIlied.“Ibarelyeverworkthere.”
Michaeltiltedhisheadjustalittle.“Whereexactly—”
“Iwishyou’dmovedbackintoyouroldhouse,Young,”Wesinterrupted.“Becausewecouldtotallyre-upourlastepicgameofhide-and-seek.”
ImadeamentalnotetothankWeslaterforthesubjectchange.
Michaelgrinnedandtookadrinkfromhisredcup.“Canyouimagine?”
“Iprefernotto.”IsmiledathimandignoredWes’schuckle.“Whenourhide-and-seekgamesturned‘epic,’thatusuallymeantthatWesandthetwinswereterrorizingme.”
“HowmanytimesdoyouthinkIsnuckoverandwarnedyou?”Michael’seyesranovermyfacelikehewasreconcilingtheoldandthenew.“Isavedyoufromsomanybugsandfrogsdownyourshirt.”
Wessaid,“Thetwinsusedtogetsopissedwhenyouhelpedher.”
MichaelshruggedandturnedhisattentionbacktoWes.“Ijustcouldn’tletyoudothattoLiz.”
EdSheeranwasbackinmyheadasIwatchedMichaellaughwithWes.Thethreeofustrippedbackafewyearstoourfireflychildhood,anditfeltsogood.
Howwouldyoufeel,
IfItoldyouIlovedyou?
“EverytimeIseeacheesymovieonTV,IthinkofLittleLiz.”
Only,whenhesaidit,Michaelmanagedtomaketheword“little”soundsexyLil,buthesoundedlikeasleepyrancherwhenhesaidit,asopposedtosomeonereferencingthenewestmumblerapper,LilLiz.
Heliftedhiscupandfinishedthelastofhisbeer.“RememberhowshealwayswatchedBridgetJones’sDiaryandgotsomadifwemadefunofit?”They’dneverknownitwasbecausethatmoviehadbeenmymother’sfavorite.
“Dowehavetorehashthepast?”IpushedmyhairbehindmyearandtriedtodirectthemtoatopicthatwouldshowMichaelhowinterestingIwasnow.“Iheard—”
“Canyougetmeabeer?”Ashleywasback,holdinghercupouttoMichaelandsmilingatmelikewewerebesties.“I’mbadwiththekegandalwaysendupwithtoomuchhead.”
Ugh—shesaiditinthatway.Youknowtheone.
Michaelsmiledbutdidn’tsoundflirtywhenhesaid,“Sure.”
HeturnedhisbacktousandgrabbedthetapwhilesheturnedherattentiontoWes.“Areyougoingtoprom,Bennett?”
Weslookedatmeandraisedaneyebrow,smirking.“Ihaven’tdecidedyet.”
“Dreamon,”Imuttered,makinghimchuckleasAshleycontinued,oblivioustoourexchange.
“Awholebunchofusaregoingasagroup.”Shewasslurringprettyheavilynow.Istartedtowonderifweshouldfindherfriends.“Youtwoshouldcome.We’regettingalimoandeverything.”
IglancedatMichael,butheseemedtohavemissedthecomment,thankGod.
Wesleanedclosertoherandsaid,“Ash,didwedoalittlepregamingbeforetheparty?”
Ashgiggledandnodded.“AtBenny’s—hismomwasgone.”
“Isee.Howaboutsomewater?”WesgrabbedherabottlefromthecooleroficebythekegandgaveheranicesmilethatIrealizedhe’dnevergiventome.Notonce.Ionlyreceivedmockinggrins,sarcasticsmirks,andeyebrowquirksfrommyneighbor.“Well,Idolovemesomelimo,soI’llhavetothinkaboutprom.”
Michaelturnedaround.“Whenisprom?”
EverythingstoppedformeasWestookthebeerMichaelhadpouredforAshleyandsetitaside.Shedidn’tevennotice.Wessaid,“Intwoweeks.”
Itwastotalslo-mo.Innnn.Twwooooo.Weeeeeeks.
MichaelsaidtoWes,“It’ssobizarre,switchingschoolstwomonthsbeforegraduation.Seniorpromissupposedtobethisreallybigdeal,butIdon’tevenknowanygirlshereyetexceptforLaney.”
Youknowme!Takeme,mybeautifulMichael,nottheevilandvapidLaney!I’dhavetoexplainthechangeinplanstoJoss,butIcouldmakeherunderstandifmydreamboysteppedup.
MichaelgesturedtoWesandmeandasked,“Arey’allgoing?”
“Us?”Myvoicecameouthigh-pitched,andIwavedahandwildlybetweenmeandWeswhilemakinganexaggeratedface,gratefulAshleyhaddisappearedintothecrowd.“WesandI?OhmyGod,no.Areyoukiddingme?”
“Yeah.”Wesshookhisheadanddidtheslashingmotionwithhishand.“Wearenotgoinganywheretogether.Trustme.Iwouldn’tgotothegasstationwiththisone.”
“Well,Iwouldn’tinviteyoutothegasstation,soyoucanjustshutyourbigmouth,”Isaidaroundasmile,followingitupwithabigoldfakearmpunch.“Believeme.”
Michaellookedatuslikewewerefunny.“Oh.IthoughtIheardyouwereathing.”
“Yeah,well,youheardwrong,”Isaid,horrifiedasIrealizedthatIwastheonewho’dstartedtherumor.Aboutmyself.
God.AndhowfreakingfastwasgossipyAsh?Honestly,I’dhavebeenimpressedifIhadn’tbeensoworriedaboutherruiningeverything.
“Wayoffbase,dude.”Westousledmyhairandsaid,“NoLittleLizforme.”
Islappedhishand.“Nope.”
“Oh.”Michaeldidaslownodofconsiderationandthenlookedatme.“Twoweeks,huh?”
Twwooooo.Weeeeeeeeks.Huuuuuuuuh?
GoosebumpsprickledupmyarmsasSheeranfloatedbackintomyhead.
“Sotellmewhat’shappenedsinceImoved.”MichaelwasapparentlydonethinkingWesandIwereathingandalsofinishedmakingmelight-headedbyspeakingtheword“prom”inmypresence.“Doy’allstillhangout?HowaboutthetwinsandJocelyn?”
WesandIlookedateachotherbeforeItookover,mainlybecauseIdidn’twanthimtosaysomethingembarrassingorunpleasantaboutme.“WesandIseeeachotherlongenoughtofightovertheparkingspotinfrontofourhouses,butthat’sprettymuchit.AndJossisactuallymybestfriendnow,whichevenIfindhardtobelieve.”
Hesmiledatthat,andhehadthekindofsmilethatmadeyoufeellikeyou’ddonesomethingright.Amillionhappynerveendingswerebuzzinginsidemybody,andIwantedtobaskinthatsmileandmakeitnevergoaway.
AshleyreappearedandsaidsomethingtoWes,makinghimturnhisbacktoustotalktoher,whichwasfinewithme,becauseitleftMichaelandmeinone-on-oneconversation.Isaid,“Thetwins,ontheotherhand,nowattendHorizonHigh.Theygotsenttothealternativeschoolaftertheylandedinjuvieforstealingacar.”
“What?”Michael’smouthdroppedopenbuthiseyeswerestillsmiling.“Theirmomwassuperreligious,wasn’tshe?”
“Yep.”Itookasipofthewarmbeeranddidmybestnottogag.“ShestillteachesclassesonCatholicismeveryWednesdaynightatSt.Patrick’s,butshehastowearascarletletteronherdenimjumper.”
“Scandalous.”Heleanedhisheadcloser.“Thisiswild—Istillcan’tbelieveit’syou.LittleLiz,allgrown-up.”
“Iknow.Andwhowould’vethoughtMichaelfromdowntheblockwouldreturn?”MycheekswerewarmasIalsoleanedclosersohecouldhearmeoverthepartynoise.MyheartwaspoundingasIwentoverthewords—asIhadbeenforthepastfewhours—overandoveragaininmyhead.Theclockwasticking,soIneededtojumpinwithbothfeet.Isaid,“Idon’tknowifyouknewit,butwhenwewerelittle,Ihadthebiggestcrushonyou.”
Hislipsslidintoadashinggrin.“Well,I’llbehonest.Ikindof—”
Idon’tknowifMichaelfinishedhissentenceornot,becausejustasIwashavingatinypleasureaneurysmatthenextsentence’spossibilities,Iheardanoise.Like,thekindofgurgleagardenhosemakeswhenyouturnitonbutthewaterhasn’tquitemadeitoutofthetubeyet.Iglancedinthedirectionofthesound,andAshleyopenedhermouthwideandspewedchunkybrownvomitallovermyfront,frommynecktomydresstomybare,exposedkneecaps.
Oh.My.God.
OhMyGod!Iglanceddown,seeingthatIwascoveredintheliquifiedremainsofAshley’sstomach.Itwaswarmandthickandsplatteredacrossmyoutfit,makingthetopofmydresssodrenchedthatitwasstickingtomyskin.InmyperipheralvisionIcouldseethattherewerewetchunksintherightsideofmyhair,overbymyear,butIcouldn’tfocusonthatbecauseIcouldfeelatrailofhotvomitrunningdownmyleg.
Runningdownmyleg.
I’mnotsureifImadeasoundorifIjustlookedvictimizedasIstoodtherewithmyarmsextended,butWesquicklyhandedthevomitousblondeofftooneofthegirlsstandingnearby,andthenhewasatmyside.
“I’vegotcleanclothesinmytrunk,Liz.Let’sgetyouuptothebathroom,andyoucancleanupwhileIruntomycarandgrabthem.”
Icouldn’tevenformulatewords.Ijustnoddedandlethimgrabmyelbowandleadmethroughthegapingcrowd—whoseemedtothinkmysituationwasbothdisgustingandhilarious—andupthestairs.Iwasfightingbackmygagreflexandtryingnottoinhalethatgod-awfulsmellasIdiedofmortification.
NotonlywasIapuked-onlaughingstock,butMichaelhadwitnessedthewholegruesomeordeal.
Talkabouttheoppositeofameet-cute.
Iwasseriouslygoingtodieofembarrassment.Forsure.Itwas,infact,athing.Mydeathwasimminent.
Whenwegottothetopofthestairs,Wessteeredmetoabathroomthatwasrightoffthekitchen.Heflippedonthelight,ledmeinside,andbenthiskneessohewasatmylevel.HelookedintomyfacesoIcouldseenothingbuthimandsaid,“Getoutoftheseclothesandcleanup,andI’llberightback,okay?”
Istillcouldn’tformulatewordssoInodded.
Michaelappearedatthetopofthestairs,lookingatmewithhisperfectnosecrinkleduplikehewantedtopuketoo,butinasympatheticway.Hesaid,“Atleastyouwerewearingyouruniformandnotyourownclothes.”
NowIwantedtopuke—anddisappear—soIjustsaid,“Yeah.”
“IsthereanythingIcando?”Helookedqueasyatthesightofme,buthestillgavemeasweetsmileandsaidinaSouthern-comfortkindofway,“Needmetofetchyouanything?”
Fetch.Aw.
Ishookmyheadbutfelt—ohmyGod—somethingdampsticktomyneck.Igrittedmyteethandsaid,“No,butthankyou.”
Iclosedthedoorandturnedthelock.Lookedaroundandcursedwhoeverhadbuiltthishousefornotprovidingashowerinthatparticularguestbathroom.“Youhavegottobekiddingme!”
Iglancedatthesink.AndapologizedtoRyno—whoeverhewas—forwhatIwasabouttodotohisbathroom.
First,ItoreoffeverylittlepieceofclothingIhadon,includingmyunderwear,lettingthemfallintoadisgustingpileonthewhitemarblefloor.Next,Iturnedonthefaucetandstartedshovingbodypartsunderthehotrunningwater.Leftleg,rightleg.Leftarm,rightarm.Ihadtodoanear-backbendtorinsemyneckandtorso,sprayingwateralloverthevanityandthefloor,beforejammingmyheaddirectlyunderthewater.
Suchagreatidea,Liz,goingtoabeerpartywithWes
Terriblejudgement.
IcouldseethechunksslowingthesinkdrainasIrubbedmyhairwithabarofsoap,soIhadtobecarefultokeepmyheadraisedjustenoughtoavoidre-contaminatingmyhairwithsink-yack.
Istraightenedandwetteddownoneoftheguesttowelsandslathereditwithanotherfancybarofsoapbeforegivingmyselfafull-bodyspongebath.
Icaughtaglimpseofmyselfinthewater-splatteredmirror,wildlyscouringmynudeselfinastranger’sbathroomwhilehummingtinymoansofdisgust,andmybrainaddedthenexttracktothealbum.
“HelloOperator”bytheWhiteStripes.
Thewordsweren’tparticularlybefittingmyuniquelyhorriblesituation,buttheguitarriffswhileImanicallyandnakedlyscrubbedwouldhavebeenperfection.
“Liz?”Weswasatthebathroomdoor.“Doyouwantmetohandthebagthroughthedoor,orshouldIjustleaveithereonthefloorandgobackdownstairs?”
“Ifyoucouldleaveit,thatwouldbegreat.”Thefancybathroomwaslikeafunhouse,withbigmirrorsallovertheplace,sotherewasnowayIwasopeningthedoorwithWesoutthere.Iwouldforsureendupshowinghimmybits.“Thankyou.”
“Noproblem.”Heclearedhisthroat.“Everyoneisdownstairs,soifyoujustreachyourhandoutthedoorandswipethebag,noonewillseeanything.”
“Okay.”
“There’saTargetbaginthesidepocketthatyoucanputyourdirtyclothesin.AndI’vegotyourpursedownstairs—doyouneedit?”
“No.”I’dtotallyforgottenIevenhadapurse.“Um—thanks.Somuch,Wes.”
Hewasbeingveryun-Wesleynicetome.OratleastwhatI’dthoughtwasun-Wesley.IguesstherealitywasthatmaybeIdidn’tknowwhohewasanymore.Imean,sincewe’darrivedattheparty,he’dactuallybeen…great.
“Noproblem.I’mgoingdownstairs,then.”Iheardrustlingoutsidethedoor,andthenitwentquiet.Icoveredmyfrontwithyetanotherguesttowel—totallydidn’tcoverenough,bytheway—beforeIdroppedtoasquat,crackedthedoor,andstuckmyhandthroughtheopening.
Iimmediatelymadecontactwiththenylonstringbag,thankGod.Ijerkeditintothebathroom,thenclosedandlockedthedoor.IneededtohurryandchangeifIwasgoingtogetanotherminutealonewithMichaelbeforeLaneyshowedupandruinedeverything.We’dbeenhavingatotalmoviemomentbeforeBlondiehadrainedherregurgitatedfoodstuffsuponme,andtherewasnowayIwasgoingtoletthatmomentgo.
Ipulledtheclothesoutofthebag.
Aw,geez,Wes.
Idon’tknowwhatI’dexpectedhimtohaveinthetrunkofhiscar,butIwasgoingtolooklikeagoofballinhissportsclothes.Isteppedintothegraysweatpantsandpulledthemup,buttheywerehugeonme.Ihadtorollthewaistbanddowntwotimesinordernottotripoverthebottoms,andIstillsufferedfromalikely-to-be-pantsedfate,asonetinytugwouldsendthosebabiesrighttomyankles.
IpulledtheEMERSONBASEBALLsweatshirtovermywethead—again,huge—butitsmelledlikefabricsoftenerandfeltlikeablanket,soIkindofmaybelikeditalittle.
AhorrifiedgiggleescapedmewhenIsawmyreflection—agraymarshmallowinthesoft,puffy,oversizefleeceensemble.Mybuff-coloredMaryJaneswiththesquareheelsweregoingtolookamazingwiththeoutfit,especiallysincetheywerealsosplatteredwithbrownvomit.
Isighedandpulledmyhairoutofthesweatshirthood.IwasjustgoingtohavetotextWesthatweneededtoleaveandI’dmeethiminthecar.IhatedleavingMichaelandourBigMomentpotential,butIlookedtooridiculoustostay.
Only…wherethe?Nooooooo.
Myphonewasinmypurse.Myphonewasinmypurse,whichwasdownstairswithWesandMichael,nottomentiontherestofthepartiers.Irolledmylipsinwardandbreathedthroughmynose.
WasIonahidden-camerashow?
Itookadeepbreathandopenedthedoortothebasementsteps.I’dditchedWes’shoodie,optinginsteadtoknotthebackofaginormousT-shirtI’dfoundwrinkledupinthebottomofhisbag.Sincelookingsophisticatedlyadorablewasnolongerinthecardsforme,Itriedforthecool,casual,I-look-cute-in-my-boyfriend’s-oversize-clothingvibe.
Itprobablylookedmorelikethemiddle-schooler-in-her-brother’s-hand-me-downsvibe,butsinceIwasoutofoptions,Ipreferredtobeoptimistic.Ididn’thavealotoftimebeforeprom,soIwasgoingtohavetostickitoutandmakeMichaelfallforme,vomitbedamned.
Thestairswerecoldanddustyundermybarefeet,andassoonasIreachedthecrowdedfloor,IlookedaroundforWes,desperatetogetoutoftherebeforeanyonenoticedme.SomethingbyAC/DCwasblaring,butnotloudenoughforthewordstobeheardoverthepartysounds.
“Vomitgirl!”Somebearofadudewearingatoo-tightLakersjerseygrinnedatme.“Youcameback!”
Why?WhyinGod’snamewouldIbe“vomitgirl”?Ashleyshouldhavebeen“vomitgirl,”dammit.
IlookedaroundtheguyandspottedWes.MyhandbagwasdanglingfromhiselbowashetalkedtoMichaelnexttothekeg,andIforcedmyselftoignoreallthelooksIwasgettingasthenewlycrownedVomitGirlandwavedmyhandinhisdirection.
Almostinstantly,hisgazemetmine.HiseyestookaquickdipovermybaggysweatsandT-shirtcombo,andthenhiseyebrowswentdownbeforehewalkedtowardmeandpulledhiskeysoutofhispocket.
“I’massumingyouwanttogo?”
“Yeah.”IturnedmygazetoMichael,who’dfollowedWesover,andInervouslyranahandthroughmydamphair.Buthiseyeswerelookingdirectlyatmybellybutton,notmyhair.OhGod.ThehugesweatpantshungsolowonmyhipsthatI’djustexposedalotofmystomachtotheentireparty.Iyankeddownthebottomoftheshirt,butitwastoolate.
Hegavemeasmilethatturnedmyinsidestomushandsaid,“Ireallylikeyourtattoo.”
OhGod—hesawthetattoo.
Atleasthe’dsaiditinatotallynon-horny-broway.
“Oh.Thanks.”IresistedtheurgetotugonmytopagainasIdesperatelyhopedhewasn’tbeingsarcastic.
Westhrewmealookofirritation,hisjawflexing.“Ready?”
BeforeIcouldrespond,Westookahandfulofmywaistbandandwrappeditaroundhishand,pullingithighersomybellywasentirelycovered.“Liz’sclothesarefallingoff,soit’stimeforustoleave.”
IfrozewhenIfeltWes’shandonmyskin.Ilookedathisfaceashelookeddownatme,andIfelt…off-kilter.Iwasn’tsureifitwasinresponsetohistouchorhissuddencavemannishprotectiveness.
Ialsowasn’tsurewhyitwasn’tpissingmeoff.
IremainedtetheredtoWes’slefthandasheandMichaelsharedagoodbyebrohandshake,exchangingwordsIcouldn’thearoverthenoise.Oncetheybrokeapart,MichaelgavemealittleSOLOcupraiseandasweetsmilebeforeheturnedandwalkedaway.
“Bye,”Iwhisperedundermybreath,watchinghimdisappearintotherevelers.
“Comeon,Buxbaum.”Weshitchedmyhandbagoverhisshoulder,passedthehandfulofmypantstome,andledmeupthestairs.“Let’sgetyouhomebeforeyouflashanyoneelse.”CHAPTERFOUR
“You’renotasvileasIthoughtyouwere.”
—10ThingsIHateAboutYou
“So?”Ilookedoutthewindshieldashepulledawayfromthehouse,wherecarslinedbothsidesofthestreet.ItoccurredtomeatthatmomentthatWesandhisfriendstotallylivedtheSuperbadlife.“DidhesayanythingaboutmewhenIwaschanging?”
“Hedid,actually.”Heflippedonhisblinkerandturnedthecorner.“Andit’sprobablygoingtopissyouoff.”
“OhGod.”IlookedatWes’sprofileandwaitedfortheawfulnews.“What?”
Heacceleratedandswitchedlanes.“It’sjustveryclearthathestillthinksofyouasLittleLiz.”
“Whatdoesthatmean?”
Hismouthcurvedalittle,buthekepthiseyesontheroad.“Oh,comeon.”
“Seriously.What?LikehestillthinksI’mingradeschool?”
HesmiledanI-shouldn’t-be-smilingsmileandsaid,“Like,hestillthinksyou’reanicelittleweirdo.”
“OhmyGod—areyoukiddingme?”Istaredathisgrinandwantedtopunchhim.“WhywouldhethinkI’maweirdonow?Iwascharmingashelluntilyourgirlfriendpukedonme.”
“It’snotthat.”Hereeledinhissmileandshotmeaquickglance.“It’sjustthatheassumesyou’rethesamepersonyouusedtobe,becausehe’sbeengone.”
“Iwasn’tanicelittleweirdo.”
Hissmilewasback.“Oh,comeon,Buxbaum.”
Ithoughtbacktotheolddaysintheneighborhood.“Iwasn’t.”
“Yes,youwere.Youmadeupsongsconstantly,abouteverything.Terriblesongsthatdidn’tevenrhyme.”
“Iwascreative.”True,Iwaslessathleticandmoredramaticthantherestofthem,butIwasn’tweird.“Andthatwasmythememusic.”
“Youliedaboutboyfriendsallthetime.”
Thatwastrue.“Youdon’tknowtheyweren’treal.”
“PrinceHarry?”
Oof—Ihadforgottenaboutthatone.“Hecould’vebeenmyboyfriend;therewasnowayofknowingforsure.”
Hechuckledandpressedharderonthegas.“Andtheplays,Liz.Rememberalltheplays?Youwereaone-womanBroadwayshoweverydamndayoftheweek.”
Wow—I’dtotallyforgottenabouttheplays,too.Iusedtolovecreatingplaysandgettingthewholeneighborhoodtoactthemout.Andyes,Imight’vebeentheinstigator,buttherestofthemhadalwaysplayedalong,sotheyhadtohaveenjoyedittoo.“Theaterisanoblecalling,andifyouguysweretoounculturedtorecognizethat,thenIfeelsorryforyou.”
Hischuckleturnedintoalaugh.“YoubeggedMichaeltobeRomeotoyourJuliet,andwhenhewouldn’t,youclimbedatreeandfake-criedforanhour.”
“Andyouthrewacornsatme,tryingtoknockmedown!”
“Ithinkthepointhereisthatheseesyoudifferentlyfromothergirlsbecauseofyourhistory.”
Ilookedathimandwondered—holyGod—hadIbeenalittleweirdo?“SoI’maweirdotohimforeverandthere’snothingIcandoaboutit?”
Heclearedhisthroat.“Well,maybenot.But.”
Helookedguilty,andIsaid,“Whatdidyoudo,Wes?”
“Ididn’tdoanything,Buxbaum—youdid.”Hepulledtoastopataredlightandgavemefull-oneyecontact.“MichaelandIweresayinghowbaditsuckedthatyougotpukedon,andhemadeacommentaboutyouruglyuniform.”
MycheeksgothotasIrememberedmybeautifuloutfitthatwasnowruined.“So?”
“SoitwassomethingabouthowitwasclassicLiztowearawaitressuniformtoapartyandhowyouhaven’tchangedabit.”
Isighedandlookedoutthewindow,suddenlyfeelinghopelessaboutevergettingashotwithMichael.“Awesome.”
“Itoldhimthatyou’recompletelydifferentnow.”
Iglancedacrossthedarkenedfrontseat.“Youdid?”
“Yep.Itoldhimthatyousinglessnowandthatyou’rekindofconsideredahotgirlatschool.”
Myweirdoheartfeltwarm.“I’mconsideredahotgirl?”
“Probably.Imean,you’renotugly,soit’spossible.Idon’tknow.”Weskepthiseyesontheroadandsoundedirritated.“Idon’tmakeitahabittodiscussyouunlessit’sinthecontextof‘Guesswhatmygoofballneighbordid,’soIactuallyhavenoidea.Iwasjusttryingtochangehisimpressionofyou.”
Irolledmyeyesandfeltridiculouslybummedthathe’dmadethatup.
“Buthere’syourproblem.”Heputonhisblinkerandslowedasweapproachedayellowlight.“AsIwasdoingmybesttoconvincehimthatyou’renolongeralittleweirdy,hetookitthewrongwayandsaid,like,‘SoyouDOlikeLiz.Iknewit.’?”
“Ohno.”Shit,shit,shit!
“Ohyes.”Helookedoveratmeafterstoppingfortheredlight.“Hethinkswe’reintoeachother.”
“No!”IdroppedmyheadbackontotheheadrestandpicturedMichael’sfaceashe’dsmiledandwatchedWesandme.HethoughtIwasintoWes,anditwasentirelymyfault.I’dstartedtherumor,fortheloveofGod.“He’llneveraskmetopromifhethinksyoulikeme.”
“Probablynot.”
“Ugh.”Iblinkedfast,notwantingtogetemotional,butIcouldn’thelpitasIkeptpicturinghisface.Hewassupposedtobemyfate,dammit,andnowLaneywouldhavehiminherclutchesbeforeIgotmyfoot-poppingkiss.
AndIgotvomitedonfornothing.
“Hedidsaysomethingaboutyouwhenwewereleaving,ifthatmakesyoufeelanybetter.”
“What?When?Whatdidhesay?”
Heacceleratedaroundthecornerandflooredit.“Allhesaidwas‘Ican’tbelieveLittleLizhasatattoo’whenItoldhimweweretakingoff.”
Igasped.“Well,howdidhesayit?”
Heglancedoveratme.“Really?”
“Ijustmeandidhesayitlikehewasdisgusted,or,like…likehethoughtitwasmaybekindofcool?”
Hekepthiseyesontheroadandsaid,“Hedefinitelywasn’tdisgusted.”
“Well,atleastthere’sthat.”Istaredoutthewindowandwatchedasthelightsofourneighborhoodgotcloser.WhatamIgoingtodo?Ifitwereanotherguy,Imighthavejustgivenupandcalledprojectilevomitingacosmicsign.
ButthiswasMichaelYoung.Icouldn’tgiveup.
Honestly,thethoughtofitmademyheartfeelalittlepinched.
Therehadtobeaway.
Iranmyteethacrossmybottomlipandpondered.Imean,technically,regardlessoftheself-inflictedrumoraboutWesandme,Michaelhadlookedflirtywhenhe’dlookedatmytattoo.Itwasn’tmuch,butitwassomething,right?Itprovedthatitwaspossibletochangehis“littleweirdo”assumptions.
Ijustneededachancetomakehimseeallthethingsaboutmethathadchanged.
Ifelthopebubblingbackup.Imean,itwouldn’ttakelongtoopenhiseyesifIcouldjustgetsometimewithhim,right?Timeandperhapssomehelp.
Hmmm.
“You’resoquiet,Buxbaum.Makesmealittleterrifiedofwhatyou’rethinking.”
“Wesley.”Iturnedtowardhiminmyseat.Withmywinningestgrin,Isaid,“Buddy.IhavetheBESTidea.”
“Godhelpme.”HepulledhiscarintoTheSpot,tookthekeysoutoftheignition,andsaidthroughahalfsmile,“Whatisyourterribleidea?”
“Well,”Istarted,lookingdownatmyhandsandnotmovingtogetoutofthecar.“Hearmeoutbeforeyousayno.”
“Againwiththis?You’rescaringme.”
“Shh.”Itookadeepbreathandsaid,“Whatifweletpeoplethinkwe’redating,butonlyfor,like,aweek?”
MycheekswerehotasIwaitedforhimtomakefunofme.Hiseyesnarrowedandhelookedatmeforalongsecondbeforesaying,“Whatexactlywouldthatsolve?”
“I’mstillworkingthisout,sobearwithme.Butifwepretendedtokindofbeintoeachotherforaweek,thenthatcouldhelpMichaelseethatI’mnolongerLittleLiz.Healreadythinkswe’redating.WhynotusethattoshowhimI’maperfectlyviableromanticoption?”
Hedrummedhislongfingersonthesteeringwheel.“Whyisthissoimportanttoyou?”
Iblinkedandrubbedmyeyebrowwithmyindexfinger.HowwasIsupposedtoanswerthatquestion?HowcouldItellhimIwassuretheuniversehadsentMichaelbacktome?
IhatedthatmyvoicewasthickwhenIsaid,“Ihonestlyhavenoidea,really.Ijustknowthatforsomereasonitreally,reallyis.Doesthatsoundsilly?”
Hestaredoutthewindshieldinfrontofhimwithanunusuallyseriouslookonhisface.Afterafewseconds,Iwonderedifmaybehehadn’theardme,butthenhesaid,“What’ssillyisthatitdoesn’t.”
“Really?”
“Really.”Heclearedthisthroatandturnedtolookatme,hisWessmirkbackinplace.“Nowwhat’sinitformeifIdothis?Besidesthejoyofsettingyouupwiththedudeyouwanttobang,ofcourse.”
“Gross.”Iclearedmythroatandwasgladhewasbacktobeingthesmart-assIknew.Introspective,understandingWeswaskindoftoomuchtotake.Isaid,“YoucanhaveTheSpotforanotherweek.”
“Thathardlyseemslikeenough.Imean,areyougoingtoexpectmetotakeyououtagain?”
“Well,thatwouldhelp,yeah.”Ituckedmyhairbehindmyearsandwashyperawareofhowquietitwasinhiscar.
Wescrossedhisarmsashismouthslidintoasmugsmileofsatisfaction.“I’vegotit.I’vegotabrilliantplan.”
“Doubtful.”
“Shhh.”Hereachedoverandputhiswholepalm—whichsmelledlikesoap—overmyfaceforasecondbeforerelaxingbackintothedriver’sseat.“IwillpretendlikeI’mtryingtogetsomethinggoingwithyou,eventhoughyou’renotthatintome.”
“Okay…?”
“Inadditiontothat,IwillactivelytrytohelpyougetMichael.Extolyourmanyvirtuestohim.”
EventhoughIknewtherehadtobeacatch,itwasfunseeingWesgetintotheidea.Iasked,“What’sinitforyou?”
“Ifyousuccessfullygethimtoaskyoutopromasaresultofmyassistance,IgetTheSpotforever.”
Ireachedforthedoorhandle.“Forever?Notachance.”
“You’renotlistening.I’mtalkingaboutmeprovidingmyexpertiseingettinghimtopromyouup.Ourcurrentarrangementwasjustformetoletyouridealongtoaparty.WhatI’mtalkingaboutwouldbemegivingyouinsiderinfo,workingonMichaelforyou,givingyouhelpfulhints,fashionadvice,etcetera.”
“Fashionadvice?”Isnorted.
“That’sright,fashionadvice.Etcetera.Forexample,ifyou’regoingtoapartyandyouwantMichaeltothinkyou’rehot,dresslikeitinsteadofawaitressedDorisDay.”
“AwaitressedDorisDaysoundslikeanexcellentaesthetic,foryourinformation,buthonestly,Ican’tgetoverthefactthatyouknowwhoDorisDayis.”
“What?MygrandmalikesPillowTalk.”
Ilovedthatmovie.MaybetherewashopeforWesyet.
“Shealsolikespickledpig’sfeetandattemptingtoescapeherretirementhome.”
Ah.Thereitwas.
Heflippedhiskeysaroundhisfinger.“So…?Areyouin?”
Itookadeepbreath.IfhecouldhelpmewithMichael,I’dgivehimTheSpot,alongwiththemoonandthestarsandpossiblyakidney.Iinhaledandsaid,“I’min.”
“Goodgirl.”Hegotoutofthecar,slammedthedoor,andcamearoundtomysidejustasIwasclosingmine.Heleaneddownalittleandmurmured,“I’mgoingtolovemyForeverSpot,bytheway.”
Irolledmyeyes.Incorrigibleboy.“Youdon’thavetowalkmetothedoor,Wes.”
Hetookthebagfrommyhandanyway.“Comeon—it’snoteverydaythataguyhasthechancetocarryagirl’ssackfullofvomityclothestothedoorforher.”
“True.”Thatmademesmiletothepointofalaugh.“Although,IsurehopeIcanmanagetoholdupmyownpantswithoutyourhelp.”
“Idoubtyoucan—Iliterallysavedyourassattheparty.”
Hewalkedbesidemeuptomyhouse,andIcouldsmellhiscologne.Itsmelledgoodandfresh,andanadexecwouldprobablysayithad“notesofpine,”butInearlystumbledasIrealizedthatIrecognizeditashis.ThatwasWes’sscent,plainandsimple.So…whenhadthatknowledgeoccurred?Imust’vesubconsciouslynoticeditduringourparkingdustups,orperhapshe’dbeenwearingitsincepuberty.
Butwhenwegottotheporchandhehandedmethebag,IlookedupathisfaceandwasovercomebythefeelingthatIwaswakingfromadreamorsomething.BecausehowelsediditmakesensethatI’djustleftabeerpartyatthemansionofoneofthepopularsandnowWesBennettwasonmyporch—andweweren’targuing?
Butthemostsurrealpartofit—byfar—wasthatitdidn’tnecessarilyfeelwrong.Itkindoffeltlikethestartofsomething.
Isaid,“Thanksfortheclothesand…well,everything.YouwerewaycoolerthanIexpected.”
“OfcourseIwas.”Hegavemeasmilethen,asmilethatwasdifferentfromalltheothershe’devergivenme.Itwasanicesmile,genuineliketheonehe’dusedwithhisfriendsattheparty.Ididn’tmindbeinglookedatlikethatbyhim.Hesaid,“Don’tforgettowashyourdirtyuniformbeforeyournextshift.IimagineTheDinerprobablytakesgreatprideintheiremployees’appearances.”
Ismiledbackathim.“I’llkillyouifyouevertell.”
“Mylipsaresealed,Libby.”
Thenextmorningatwork,IwasfeelingpositiveaboutthewholeoutingasIreplayeditinmymind.Imean,yes—Igotvomitedon,Mr.Rightthoughtmyadorabledresswasajobuniform,andoh,yeah,healsothoughtIwasstilla“weirdy”(IhopedthatwasWes’spersonaltermandnotonethathadeverleftMichael’slipsinreferencetome)—butthoseweretheonlynegatives.
Yes,Ihadanoutrageouslyunrealisticoptimisticnature.
Michaelhadalsoseemedfairlyinterestedinattendingprom,soIstillhadachance.EspeciallywithWeshelpingtoilluminatethenon-weird,once-was-a-caterpillar-but-is-now-a-beautiful-butterflyLiz.
“Jeff?”Isaidthenameloudly,andasilver-hairedcustomerinredsuspendersandmatchingredsneakerswalkedinmydirectionwithtwobooksinhishand.
Hestoppedatthecounterandheldouthisclaimticket.Igrabbeditandsaid,“Wecangiveyoutwenty-fourdollarsforyourrecords.”
Hisfurryeyebrowssquinchedtogetherliketwocaterpillars,andhislipsflattened.“Twenty-fourdollars?IknowforafactthattheHumperdinckalbumisworthatleastthatmuchbyitself.”
“You’reprobablyright,”Istarted,desperatelywantingtorollmyeyes.Oldrecorddudesweretheworst.TheyalwaysknewwhattheirLPswereworthtootheroldrecorddudes,andconsistentlyarguedwithmewhenIofferedthemhalfofwhatwecouldactuallysellthemfor.“Butatthisstore,we’llonlybeabletogetafractionofthatforit.You’recertainlywelcometoholdontoit,ifyouthinkyoucansellitonlineformore.”
Heglaredatmewithoutsayingaword.Juststoodthereandeyeballedme,asifhispowerfulstareweregoingtomakemeshrinkandstartthrowingmoneyathim.I’dbeenworkingatDick’sUsedBooksforthreeyears,andIcouldprettymuchlookatapersonenteringthestoreandknowiftheyweregoingtotrytohaggleornot.
Istaredback,withasmile,ofcourse,andwaitedforhimtogrowtiredofhisBigMangames.Asolidtwentysecondswentbybeforehefinallysaid,“Idon’tneedtwocopies.IguessI’lltakeyouroffer.”
Yes,Iknewthatyouwould.
Iwasringinguphiscreditwhenthebellonthefrontdoortinkled.
“Goodmorning,”Isaid,notlookingupfromthecashregister.
“Canyoutellmewhereyourfartbooksare?”
Ilookedup,andtherewasWes,lookingasseriousasaheartattack,andJefftheOldswunghisgazeinWes’sdirection.
“Excuseme?”Ihadtodistortmyfacetokeepfromlaughing.Iwasn’tgoingtosmileathischildishness.Notinfrontofacustomer,atleast.
WeswaswearingbasketballshortsandaSURELYNOTEVERYBODYWASKUNGFUFIGHTINGhoodie,hisdarkhairstickingupinthefrontlikehe’dshoweredandrubbedhishandoveritinsteadofusingabrush.Iwasn’tsurewhenhe’dgottensolongandleanandropy,buthonestly,itwasagoodlook.
IfyouwereintoguyslikeWes.
“Yourfartbooks.Hello?”Hesaiditwithgreatimpatience,likeIwastheoneactingstrangelyforjuststaringathim.“Ineedsomerelief,ma’am.Wherearethebooksongastrointestinalemergencies?”
IhandedOldJeffhismoneyandreceipt.“Thankyouverymuch—haveagreatday.”
Hemutteredandputthemoneyinhiswalletbeforeleavingthestore.IglancedatWesandshookmyhead.“Whatiswrongwithyou?
Heshrugged.“I’mfunny?”
“No,Idon’tthinkthat’sit.Whyareyouhere?”
“BecauseIlikebooksand…”Heturnedaroundandlookedatthestorebehindhim.“Records.”
“Isthatso?What’syourfavoriterecord?”
HepointedatthealbumI’djustboughtfromOldJeff.“Thatone.EngelbertHumperdinck.”
“Really.”
“Yep.NoonerapsquiteliketheDink.IcouldlistentothatEngelbert—or,asIliketocallhim,BigE—spitrhymesalldaylong.”
“Seriously,whyareyouhere?”
Hesteppedclosertothecounter.“Ineededtotalktoyou,andyourstepmomsaidyouwerehere.”
Stepmom.It’dbenormalformetothinkofHelenalikethat,andtocallherthat,butforsomereason,Inevercould.Itwaseither“mydadandHelena,”or“mydad’swife.”I’dlivedwithherforyearsnow,butshewasstilljustHelenatome.
“What’sup?”
“Michaeltextedmethismorning.”
“Hedid?”Mymouthdroppedwideopen,andIletoutasquealthatshould’veembarrassedmebutdidn’tbecauseitwasjustWes.Itiny-clappedandsaid,“Whatdidhesay?Didhementionme?What’dhesay?”
HegrinnedandshookhisheadatmelikeIwasanover-sugaredtoddler.“Soabunchofusaregoingtothegametonight.”
“Wouldthisbeaballgame?”Iturnedthepricingguntothreedollarsandstartedlabelingtheclearancebooks.IhadtoldJossI’dgodressshoppingthatnight,mainlybecauseIneededtocreateanopeningtomentionthepartybeforesheheardaboutthebarfincidentatschoolonMonday.IfIcouldappeaseheronthedress,shemightnotgivemetoomuchgriefabouttheparty.
“Basketball,dipshit.”
“HowwouldIknowthat?”
“Becauseit’sbasketballseasonandwe’reintheplayoffs…?”
Ijustgavehimashrugandkeptlabeling,whichmadehimsmile.“Anyway,meandMichaelandsomeoftheguysaregoing,andIthoughtitmightbeacasualwayforyoutohangwithoutothergirlsstealingyourthunder.”
Istoppedtagging.“DidyouseriouslyjustimplythatI’minvisibleifothergirlsareintheequation?”
“No.God,you’reuptight.I—”
“No,I’mnot.”
“You’renot?”
Isetdownthegunandputmyhandsonmyhips.“No,Imostdefinitelyamnot.”
Onesideofhismouthslidup.“You’rewearingadressatathriftstoreforbooks,yourplannerisscarilyorganized,andeveryoneofyourpricetagsisperfectlystraight.Up.Tight.”
Isquintedathimwhileclosingmyelaboratelycolor-codedandstickeredplanner.“Thisisaskirtandsweater,notadress.”
Ifreakingadoredmyplaidkilt,ruffledcardigan,andnearlynew,never-been-vomited-onpatentleatherMaryJanes.
“Samedifference.Wheneveryoneelseisinjeans,you’reskirtedup.”
Irolledmyeyes.“JustbecauseIlikedressesandI’morganizeddoesn’tmeanI’muptight.”
“Sureitdoesn’t.”
Ipickedupthegunandstartedlabelingfaster,irritatedthatheseemedtodisdaineverythingthatIwas.“SofinishtellingmeaboutbasketballbeforeIhurtyou.”
“That’sprettymuchit.Ifyouridewithus,you’llhavetimetoshowhowcoolyouareonthewaytothegame.”
IstoppedwiththetagsagainandimaginedMichaelandme,lostinsmilesandin-depthconversationinthebackofanintimatecar.“Alittleone-on-oneseshofLizcoolness,huh?”
“Godhelpusall.”
Iranafingeroverthetopofthegunandaskedhim,“Thatwouldn’tbeweird,youbringingme?”
Hedidano-biggieshrug.“Nah.It’ssuperchill.”
“Then,um,yeah.”Istraightenedandsetdownthegunyetagain,excitedaboutthisunexpectedopportunity.“Totally.Countmein.”
“Here’sthething,though,Liz.”Hepulledasetofkeysfromhispocketandflippedthemaroundhisfinger.“Don’tgetallpissywithmeforsayingthis,butI’dliketohelpyouwithyouroutfit.”
“Excuseme?”Itiltedmyheadandcouldn’tquitebelievehehadsaidthattome.“IthinkI’vegotit,butthankyou.”
“Seriously,youneedtolistentome.”
“Ifit’saboutfashion,Iseriouslydon’t.Nooffense.”
“Sometaken,butthisisn’taboutthat.Thisisaboutthefactthatnooneisgoingtobuyintotheideaofyoujustcasuallywatchingsomehoopsifyou’rewearingarufflydressandshoeswithflowersonthem.”
Iblewthebangsoutofmyeyes.“Bennett—Idoownapairofjeans,youknow.”
“Colormesurprised.”Heputhispalmsonthedeskandleanedonhisarms.Hisfacewascloser,andIgotdistractedbythesuper-lightfrecklesI’dnevernoticedandthewayhiseyelashesweren’tjustlong,butalsoperfectlycurled.“ButIbettheyaren’tevennormal.Like…um,they’reprobablythoseweird-waistedtrendyjeans,right?Orjeanswithcreasesironedintothemandcuffsonthebottom?”
“Nope.”
“Well,”hesaid,sighinglikethiswasimportant,“Ithinkifyou’reseriousaboutthewholeMichaelthing,youneedtoexpandyourcloset.”
“Areyoukiddingmewiththis,kungfuhoodie?”
HegrinnedlikeI’djustcomplimentedhisoutfit,andrubbedahandovertheletteringonhisshirt.“Hearmeout.Iknowwhatgirlsatourschoolwear.GirlslikeLaneyMorgan—yeah,rememberher?”
AsifIcouldforgether.Goodskin,goodInstagramfollowing,gooddatinghistory,andadotingmother.Enviableandunforgettable.
“Areyougrittingyourteeth,Liz?”
Ireleasedtheclenchandsaid,“No.Continuewithyourrambling.”
“Ifyouwanttolandyourman,youneedtoquitbeingstubbornandletmehelpyou.”
“Ijustdon’tthinkyou’recapable.”
“Ofcoachingyoutothewinorpickingoutyourclothes?”
“Forsuretheclothes.”Ireacheddownandgrabbedastackofbooksoffthebottomshelfofthecart.Doubtcreptinashespokelikewewereofficiallyplanningsomething.WhatwasIevendoing—tryingtolive-actionmyownpersonalversionofShe’sAllThat?
Tobehonest,though,thepartofmethatlovedmakeoverrom-comswasatinybitintrigued.
ButIlikedmyself.Ilikedmyclothes.
Iwasn’talittleweirdo,andIdidn’tneedWes’sfashionassistance.
“Listen.”Hegrabbedapieceofpaperoffthecounterandsaid,“WhatifwejuststrollthroughthemallandIpointoutthingsthatlookcool?You’llbewithme,soyoudon’thavetogetanythingyoudon’tlike.Butitwouldn’thurtyoutolooklikeanactualhighschoolerwhenyou’retryingtocharmyourlong-lostlove,right?Nothingwildortrashy,justsomethingthatdoesn’tmakeyoulooklikealibrarian.”
Iwasclearlylosingmymind,becauseallofasuddenitseemedlikemaybeitwasn’tabadideatogowithWesandseewhathethoughtIshouldbewearing.Iwasn’tabouttochangemylooksforaboy—screwthatthoughtforever—butifhecouldpointmetoanoutfitthatIlikedandhethoughtmademelooklessuptight,thatwouldn’tbeabadthing,wouldit?
“I’mprettybrokerightnow,soIcan’taffordtogoforrichhotgirl.Isthereawaytodoagirl-on-a-budget,moderately-attractivelook?”
Hegavemeafull-throttlegrinthen,thegrinofsomeonewho’djustbeatsomeoneelse.“Trustme,Buxbaum—Igotyou.”
Assoonasheleft,ItextedJoss.
Ugh—lookslikeIhavetoworkadouble.Canwedressshoptomorrow?SOSORRY
Ifeltlikeagarbagefriend.IknewIneededtostopputtingheroffandjustdothedangdressthingalready,butIwasreallyhavingahardtimeforcingmyselftostepup.
Perhapstomorrow.CHAPTERFIVE
“Justbecauseshelikesthesamebizarrocrapyoudodoesn’tmeanshe’syoursoulmate.”
—500DaysofSummer
“Seriously,Wes?”Ilookedaroundthestoreandcouldn’tshaketheguilt.Itwasonethingtoblowoffshoppingwithyourbestfriendtodoanotheractivity,butblowingoffshoppingwithyourbestfriendtoshopwithsomeoneelse?Itfeltlikecrossingabigoldline.“Youareridiculous.”
Hegrabbedaredtunicfromadisplayrackandthrewitintothecart.“Ridiculouslysmart.Nowyouonlyhavetogointothefittingroomonce.”
Ilookedattheheapingcartandwonderedifheknewthatyoucouldonlytakeinsixitemsatatime.Ididn’tsayanything,though,becausethemanwasonamission.He’dpickedmeupfromthebookstorewhenmyshiftwasover,spedthetwoblockstothemall,andnearlypulledmyarmoutofitssocketeverytimeIfailedtokeepupwithhisbriskpace.
ApparentlyWeshatedshopping.
WewereinDevlish,thehigh-school-trendy-worldwide-franchisestorethatIusuallyavoided.Iwasallaboutbuyingvintageclothesonlineorhuntingthroughthriftstoresfortheperfectthrowbackpieces;Devlishwasn’tmygame.Weshadaskedmemysizewhenwe’denteredthethree-levelstore,andsincethenhe’dbeenhurlingitemsintothecartlikehewasonsomekindofspeed-shoppinggameshow.
Wehadfinallytakenapauseinthemiddleofanaisle,betweenthesequinedandrevealingformaldressesandthefaux-businessattire.Weslookedthroughthecontentsofourcart,holdingupafewitemstoreconsiderthem,eithernoddingorshakinghisheadthoughtfully.Finallyhesaid,“Ithinkweprobablyhaveenough.”
ItriednottosoundsarcasticwhenIsaid,“Probably.”
Hepointedafingeratmeandsaid,“ButIknowyouwellenoughtoknowthisismyonlyshot.”
“True.”He’dtossedinjeans,T-shirts,somesupercutetops,somenot-so-cutetops;theboywasdefinitelycoveringallofhisbases.“Butwhysomuchwhite?”
Hepushedthecarttowardahugerackoffoldedshirtsandsaid,“Peoplewithredhairlookgoodinwhite.Shouldn’tyouknowthat?”
Ijustfollowed,tryingnottosmileathisconfidenceinhisownfashionbeliefs.“Imissedthatmemo.”
Hegrabbedahandfulofshirtsandaddedthemtoourpile.“Whiteandgreen,dude.Thoseareyourgo-tocolors.”
Icouldn’tstopthelaugh.Dude.“Noted.”
Hestoppedmanic-shoppingforasecondandsmileddownatme,hiseyeswarmastheytraveledovermyface.ItremindedmeofthelookRhettgaveScarlettinGonewiththeWindwhenheattemptedtotiehernewbonnetforher.Itwasalookthatadmittedheknewnothingaboutwhathewasdoing,andthatheknewhelookedfoolish.
Buthedidn’tcarebecausehewasenjoyinghimself.
Itwasweird,butpartofmethoughtthatmightbethecasewithWes.Notthathelike-likedme,butIfeltlikeheenjoyedourverbalsparring.Honestly,Ididtoo,whenhewasn’tsayingthingsthatmademewanttochokehimout.
Hereachedoutandgrabbedaplaidflannelshirtfromarack.Thatwasn’tgoingtoworkforspring,butIdidn’tsayanything.Ijusttuckedmyhairbehindmyearsandlethimfinish.Itdidn’tescapemynoticethatourmakeover-ishshoppingtripwasexactlylikeI’dimagined,butitwasmoreTheUglyTruththanShe’sAllThat.ItwassoreminiscentofMiketakingAbbyshoppingthatitwasalmostfunny,onlyWeswasn’ttheleadingmanandIwasn’tfallingforhim.
“Thinkweshouldheadtothefittingroom?”heasked.
“Oh,praisetheLord,you’refinallydone.Yes.”
Hechargedtowardthefittingroom,leaninghisbigbodyonthecart,andIwasalittleimpressedbyhisfocus.Hehadn’tcheckedoutanyonesincewe’darrivedatthestore,andtherewerealotofgirlsinthatplace.Trendygirlsthatwerejusthistype.
Buthewasallabouttheshopping.
“Liz?”
Iglancedupand—holyshit—therewasJoss,exitingaroom.JOSS?Crap,crap,crap—whatweretheodds?Whatwerethefreakingodds?Therewasnowheretohide,nowheretohideWes,asshelookedatmewithconfusiononherface.
“Ithoughtyouwereworking.”ShewalkedoverandglancedatWesbeforesaying,“Adouble,right?”
Shit.IfeltlikeI’dbeencaughtcheating,andIwantedtodisappear.
Butatthesametime,IlookedatherandrealizedI’dmuchratherbenonsense-shoppingwithWesthandressshoppingwithher.
BecausetherewerenotieswithWes,noconnectionstoanythingpainful.Promdressshopping,ontheotherhand,waslayeredinmelancholicbindingsthatmademefeelaworldofthingsIdidn’twanttofeel.
First—therewasthefactthatbywatchingJossandhermomshopfordressestogether,Igottohyperfocusonthefactthatmymomwasn’ttheretoshopwithme.Next,theeventwewerebuyingthemformademedwellontherealitythatmymotherwouldn’tbethereonpromnighttohelpmegetreadyortaketoomanypictures.
Andthen,ofcourse,therewasthedressitself.Mymotherhadbeensmittenwithformalwear,andtryingondresseswithherwould’vebeenafashionshowofepicproportions,completewithhomemadelookbooksandjewelrypairings.
“Igotoffearly.”Iwasahorribleperson.IsawherglanceintotheheapingcartandIsaid,“AndwhenIgothome,Wes’scarwasdead,soheaskedifIcouldgivehimaridetothemall.He’sbuyingapresentforhismom.”
Whatwashappening?Itwasalarmingthewaythelieswerejustpouringoutofmymouth.
“Iknowhowtospeak,Buxbaum.Christ.”HegavemealookandthenshookhisheadatJosswhilemyheartraced.Heaskedher,“Yougotanyideasonwhattogetmymomforherbirthday?Lizhaspulledacartfullofclothes,andI’mnotconvinced.”
“I’dtrustherifIwereyou.”Jossdrapedtheshirtshewasholdingoverherarmandtoldhim,“NooneisasgoodatgiftingasLiz.”
“Areyousure?”Hegavemeside-eye.“Becauseshe’swearingakilt,Joss.”
Shestartedlaughing,andIfeltlikeitmightbeokay.ShesaidtoWes,“She’sgotherinterestingstylething,butit’sbychoice.You’regood.”
“Ifyousayso.”
Sheadjustedtheshirtthatwashangingoverherarmandsaid,“Callmelater,Liz.Iwanttodothedressthingtomorrow,andIsweartoGodI’mgoingtogetfor-realpissedifyoughostmeagain.”
“Iwon’t.”
“Promise?”
Ifeltgratefulenoughthatshewasn’tpissedaboutmyWesshoppingtripthatIgenuinelymeantit.“Promise.”
Shesaidgoodbyeandheadedfortheregister,andthesecondshewasoutofearshot,Wessaid,“Yourpantsaresoonfire.”
“Shutit.”
“Ithoughtyouguyswerebesties.”
“Weare.”Irolledmyeyesandgesturedforhimtopushthecarttowardthedressingrooms.“It’scomplicated.”
Hestoodstillandsaid,“How?”
“What?”Iwantedtopushhimandphysicallygetthatbigbodygoing,ashestillwasn’tmoving.
“Howisitcomplicated?”Helookedgenuinelyinterested.CoulditactuallybethatWescared?
Isighedandgroanedalittle,runningahandthroughmyhair.Partofmewantedtotellhimaboutallofit,butWeswouldn’tunderstandmygriefanymorethanJosswould.“Idon’tknow.SometimesIkeepthingstomyselfanditcausestension.”
Westiltedhishead.“Iseverythingokay?Imean,you’reokay…?”
Hisfacewas—Idon’tknow—sweetlyconcerned?Itwasalittleunnerving,howsincerehelooked,andsomethingdeepinsidemedidn’thateit.Iwavedahandandsaid,“It’llbefine.Andthanksforgoingalongwithit.”
“Igotyou,Buxbaum.”Hewatchedmeforaminute,likehewaswaitingformore,butthenhewinkedandleanedonthecart.“You’reonmyteamnow.”
“Godhelpme.”
Hefinallywheeledthecartintothefittingroomareaandproceededtodropintooneofthewaitingchairs,stretchhislegsoutinfrontofhim,andcrosshisarms.
“Whatareyoudoing?”
Hiseyesnarrowedafraction.“Sitting.”
“Butwhy?I’mnottryingtheseonforyou.”
“Oh,comeon,Liz.IfI’mresponsibleformakingyouover,Ineed—”
“OhmyGod,youarenotmakingmeover.Areyouseriouswiththat?”Sometimeshewasbeyondinfuriating.“I’mtakingyouropinionintoconsideration,butI’mnotpatheticandIdon’tneedWesBrosephBennetttomakemeover.”
Helookedupatmewithlaughingeyes.“IthinkMichaelwasrightaboutyoubeinghigh-strung.”
“You’reimpossible.Pleasegosomewhereelse.”
“How’reyougoingtoknowhowtheylookifI’mnothere?”
“Ihaveeyes.”
“Eyesthatokayedawaitressuniformforaparty,remember?”
“Thatwasanadorabledress.”
“Debatable.Anddoestheuseofthepasttensemeanitwasn’tsalvageable?”
“No,therewasvomitinthepockets.Isaidmygoodbyeslastnight.”
Hesmirkedatthatandhisdarkeyescrinkledatthecorners.“Well,I’msorry.Itwasanuglydress,butitdidn’tdeservetodie.”
Irolledmyeyes,andthefittingroomattendantwalkedoutfromtheback.“Howmany?”
“Afew,”WesmutteredatthesametimeIsaid,“HowmanycanItakeinatatime?”
“Eight.”
“Onlyeight?”Wes’svoicewasloudinthetinydressingroomarea.“Comeon,that’sgoingtotakeforever.”
Iignoredhimandtookeightitemstoafittingroom.ThethirdtopItriedon,aslouchywhitefleecethingthatfelloffoneshoulderinawaythatwouldlookadorablewithatankunderneath,wasactuallycute.Ipaireditwithfadedjeansthathadshredsalloverthem,andIwasgladWeshadsuggestedthis.
He’dmanagedtofindmesomethingtrendythatIliked;Icouldn’tbelieveit.
JustasIwasswitchingintoanemerald-greensweater,Iheardhimsay,“Canyoupossiblychangealittlefaster?I’mfallingasleepouthere.”
“Don’tyouhavesomeshoppingtodowhileyouwaitforme?IthinkIsawasaleonobnoxiousjockcostumesintheback.”
“Ouch.”Hewhistled.“You’resomean.”
“GivemetwominutesandI’mdone.”
“Seriously?”Hesoundedshocked.
“Seriously.”
“Butyou’reonlyonthefirsteight.”
Ipulledoffthesweaterandputmyshirtbackon,slidingmyfeetintomyshoeswhilestraighteningmyhairinthemirror.“IgotwhatIneeded,sothere’snoreasontokeepgoing.”
HeseemeddoubtfulwhenIcameout,likehedidn’ttrustmyanswer,butwhenwegottotheregister,helookedlikeheapprovedoftheitemsI’dselected.
“Istillcan’tbelieveI’mtakingfashionadvicefromyou.Ifeellikethisissomekindofrockbottom.”Ihandedmydebitcardtothecashierandlookedatthesmallstackofclothingonthecounter.
Ipointedattheshoeboxsittingrightbesidemyclothes.“Thosearen’tmine.”
“Ihavegreattaste.I’mlikeyourownpersonalfairygodfather.”Wesgesturedtotheshoes.“Andthosearemycontribution.”
“What?”
Heleanedanarmonthecounterandgavethecashierasmilethatsaid,SeewhatI’mdealingwith?“Iknowyoudon’thaveanyChucks,Libby,andyoudefinitelyneedsome.”
“Youboughtmeshoes.”
“Notshoes.ChuckTaylors.”
IlookedathisfunnysmirkandhadnoideahowtoreactsoIreachedoutandopenedthebox.
WesBennetthadboughtmeshoes.
Noboyhadeverboughtanythingforme,yetherewasWes,theantagonisticneighborboy,spendinghisownmoneybecausehethoughtIneededChucks.Itouchedthewhitecanvas.“Whendidyouevenhavetimetodothat?”
“Whenyouwereinthedressingroom.”Helookedsweetashesmileddownatmeandsaid,“IaskedClairetotakecareofit.”
“WhoisClaire?”
“Thedressingroomattendant.Payattention.”
Thecashierhandedmethereceiptandmybag,andIwasstillfumblingaroundwithhowtoreact.Itwassweetandthoughtfulandsoun-Wes.“Um,thankyoufortheshoes.I—”
“Quitgushing,Buxbaum.”Hesmiledbigenoughthathiseyessquinted.“It’sembarrassing.”
Weleftthestore,andbeforewehitthemallexit,ImadehimgointoAvaSunwithme,myfavoritestore.ItwaslikeKateSpadestyleonaT.J.Maxxbudget,mostlydressesandskirtsanddelicateaccessories.
“Holyballs,it’slikeagiantversionofyourcloset.”
Iknewhemeantitasadig,butasIheadedtowardthesaleracksintheback,Isaid,“Thanks.”
“Imeantthatthisfeelslikeanightmare.”
Iignoredhimandstartedflippingthroughtheracks.
“Likeanactualnightmare.Monstersandgoblinsandgod-awfulflowerdresses.”
“Shhh.I’mtryingtoshop.”
Ifoundasaleshelfandstarteddiggingwhileheleanedagainstthewallandlookedathisphone.Partofmewonderedifhisincessantteasingwashiswayofflirting.Imean,fromanotherguyitsowouldbe,butthiswasWes.He’dalwaysteasedandtormentedme,sowhywouldItakeitanydifferentlythanIhadinthepast?
Itwashisway.
“Wow.ThatdressissoLizBuxbaum.”
“Hmmm?”Iglancedup,andhewaspointingatamannequin.
“Thatdress.Itissoyou.”
Ifollowedhispointtothemannequinandwastotallytakenaback.Becausetoclarify,hewasn’tpointingatjustanymannequin.Hewaspointingatmymannequin,theonewhowaswearingmyhoundstoothsheath,thedressI’dfalleninstantlyinlovewithwhenithadarrivedtwoweeksbefore.
TheoneI’dlookedatonlinenolessthattwentytimessincethen.
Itwaspricey,soIwasforcingmyselftowaituntilIcouldaskmydadtobuyitformybirthday,buttherewassomethingaboutthefactthatWeslookedatitandthoughtitwas“me”thatwas…something.Itmademehappy.
“Iactuallylovethatdress.”
“See?I’mincrediblyintuitiveforafairygodfather.”
Ireadjustedtheshoulderstrapofmybagandsaid,“Let’sgobeforeIthrowuponyouruniform.”
AssoonasIgotintohiscar,myphonebuzzed.ItwasanotificationthatInsipidCreation’snewalbumhadjustdropped.Imust’vemadealittlesoundofexcitement,becauseWessaid,“What?”
“Nothing.IjustsawthatthealbumIpreorderedisshippingtoday.”
“Shipping,grandma?”Heputhiskeyintheignitionandsaid,“Youdon’tstreammusicliketheyouths?”
Islammedmydoor.“OfcourseIdo,butsomethingsaremeanttobeplayedonvinyl.”
Heglancedoverashestartedthecar,andIbuckledmyseatbelt.“Haveyoualwaysbeensointomusic?Imean,IthinkIseeyouwithheadphonesonmoreoftenthannot.”
“Prettymuch.”Ishovedmyphoneintomypurseandlookedoutthewindow.“MymomputmeinpianolessonswhenIwasfour,andIfellinlovewithit,andthensheusedtoplaythisgamewithmewherewecreatedsoundtracksforeverything.”
“Seriously?”Weslookedoverhisshoulderbeforebackingoutoftheparkingspot.
“Yep.Wewouldspendhoursandhoursselectingtheperfectsongstogoalongwithwhatevereventweweresoundtracking.”
IrealizedasIsaiditoutloudtotheinteriorofhiscarthatI’dnevertoldthattoanyonebefore.Itwasamemorythat’dsolelybelongedtoherandme,andI’dalwaysfoundittobeterriblysadthatIwastheonlyoneontheplanetwhoknewaboutit.
Untilnow,Iguess.
IsmiledbutsoundedlikeafrogwhenIsaid,“Imadeoneforsummercamp,forChristmasvacation,forthesix-weekswimmingcoursethatIhatedandneverpassed;anythingandeverythingwasworthyofasoundtrack.”
Weslookedawayfromtheroadlongenoughtoglanceatme,andthenitwaslikehesensedIdidn’twanttotalkaboutmymomanymore.
“Sothat’swhatitwas!”Hismouthslidupintoagrin.“YoumadeasoundtrackforyouandMichael.”
“What?”Iturnedalittleinmyseatandknewmycheekswereinsta-red.“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”
HowinGod’snamedidheknowaboutthat?
“Relax,MissLove—yoursecretissafewithme.”
“Ihavenoideawhatyou—”
“Isawthepaper.”Weslookedlikehewastryingnottolaughashisentirefacesmiled.“Isawthepaper,soit’spointlesstodenyit.Itwassittingonyourplannerthismorninganditsaid‘TheSoundtrackofM&L.’OhmyGod,Buxbaum,thatisfreakingadorable.”
IlaughedeventhoughIwasmortified.“Shutup,Wes.”
“Whatsongsareonit?”
“Seriously.”
“Seriously,Iwanttoknow.Isitallboot-knockingsongs,likeGinuwineandNineInchNails,orisitcheesyromance?WasTaylorSwiftonthelist?”
“SincewhenisNineInchNailsboot-knockingmusic?”
“I’mtheoneaskingquestionshere.”
Ijustsighedandlookedoutthewindow.
“Well,canwemakeasoundtrack?”
“Ihateyou.”
Hesaid,“Oh,comeon.”
“Don’tyouhavebetterthingstodothanthis?”Igesturedbetweenthetwoofus,teasingbutalsokindofinterestedinhisanswer.WasitallabouttheSpot,orwasitmaybealittleaboutme?“Seriously?”
“Ofcourse,butI’dsellmyowngrandmotherforTheSpot.This,”hesaid,mimickingmygesture,“isallaboutmovingWessy’scarclosertoWessy.”
Andtherewasmyanswer.
“Suchadisgustingnickname.”IkeptmygazefixedonthewindshieldbutIcouldhearthegrininhisvoicewhenhesaid,“SobacktothesoundtrackofW&L.Whatshouldweputonit?”
“You’reanass.”
“I’mnotfamiliarwiththatlittleditty,butyou’retheaudiophilehere,notme.IwasactuallythinkingofsomethingmorelikethelovethemefromTitanic.”
“Ifweweremakingasoundtrack,”Isaid,pointingathisface,“andwe’renot,itwouldbeallabouttheparkingwar.”
“Ah,yes,theparkingwar.”Heputonhisblinkerandcametoastopattheredlight.“Whatsongwouldaccompanythatgloriousbattle?”
“NotTitanic.”
“Okay,sothen…?”
“Hmm.”Iclosedmyeyesandthought,notcaringthathewasbeingsarcastic.Thiswasmyfavoritethingintheentireworldtodo.“Firstweneedtodecideifwewantthesongtobeanaccompanimenttothescene,orifwewantittobeajuxtaposition.”
Hedidn’tanswer,andwhenIopenedmyeyes,hewaswatchingme.Heswallowedandsaid,“Juxtapositionforsure.”
“Okay.”Iignoredthatandkeptgoing.“Soifwe’rethinkingaboutthedaythatyoutapedmywindshieldlikeatotalmiscreant,Iwouldselectsomethingthatcelebratedyou.Youknow,becauseyouwereremarkablyunworthyofcelebration.”
“?‘Isn’tSheLovely’byStevieWonder?”hesuggested.
“Ooh—Ilikethat.”Ihummedthefirstbarbeforesaying,“Or.TheRosePigeonshaveasongcalled‘He’sSoPretty,ItHurtsMyEyes’anditcatalogueshowsweetandamazingsomedudeis.Sothat’stotallythejuxtapositionofyouintheparkingwar,right?”
“IdidwhatIhadto.Allisfairinloveandparking.”
WhenhepulledupinfrontofthebookstoresoIcouldgetmycar,Ithankedhimandgrabbedmybags.HesaidhewasgoingtotextMichaelandmentionIwascoming,andhealsosaidhewouldthrowinsomegoodwordsaboutme.Iwantedtohelphimcrafttheperfectadjectives,butIbitmytongue.Isteppedoutofhiscar,andjustwhenIwasabouttoslamthedoor,hesaid,“Youshouldmaybestraightenyourhairfortonight.”
“I’msorry—itsoundedlikeyoujusttoldmehowIshouldwearmyhair.”IknewthathewastryingtohelpmewinMichael,butdidherealizethatitmademefeelliketotalshitwhenheactedlikemystylewasajoke?Iwas100percentgoodwithmyfashionchoices—Idressedformeandmeonly—butitstilldidn’tfeelgoodtoknowthathedidn’tlikethewayIlooked.
Myhairwasinabraidatthatmoment,andthoughitwasn’tparticularlycool,italsowasn’tlikeIhadhairdowntomyanklesthathadneverseenabrush,either.“Sincethatcan’tberight,whatdidyouactuallysay?”
Heheldupahand.“Thatcameoutwrong.AllImeantwasthatinsteadofjustchangingupyourclothes,youshouldgiveMichaelthefull-onhot-girltreatment.HestillthinksofyouasLittleLiz,butifyoushowuplookinglikethekindofgirlhe’sdatedsincemovingaway,itmightbeagoodstart.”
Istilldidn’tlikeit,buthehadapoint.“Sowhat’stheplanforlater?”
“I’llpickyouupatfiveish.”
“Okay.”
“WeartheChucks.”
“You’renotthebossofme.”Isaiditwithateasingchildishpout,butIwasstillconfusedastowhyhe’dboughtmetheshoes.Everythingelsethathe’dhand-selectedformy“newLiz”wardrobe,I’dpaidfor.SowhyhadhegonetothetroubleofpayingforthemwhileI’dbeenchanging?Whyhadhepaidforthematall?
Heputhisbighandstogetherasifpraying.“CanyouprettypleaseweartheChucks?”
“We’llsee.”CHAPTERSIX
“WhenI’maroundyou,IkindoffeellikeI’mondrugs.NotthatIdodrugs.Unlessyoudodrugs,inwhichcase,Idothemallthetime.Allofthem.”
—ScottPilgrimvs.theWorld
Atfourforty-five,ItiedmyChucks—which,Ihadtoadmit,lookedprettycutewithmywholesportyensemble—andwentdownstairs.Theywerecomfortable,andsomethingaboutthemmademekindofsoft,butIwasn’tgoingtowasteaminutetryingtofigurethatout.
Mydadhadtakenmygrandpatothedrivingrange,soitwasquietinthehouse.Helenawasaroundsomewhere,butIwasn’tsurewhere.
Thedoorbellrang,andIcouldn’tbelieveit.Weswasearly?
Iwalkedovertothedoor,butwhenIpulleditopen,itwasJocelyn,notWes
“Oh.Hey.”I’msuremyfacetotallyshowedmyshockatseeingherinsteadofWes,andItriedhardnottolookshook.“What’reyoudoinghere?”
Hermouthdroppedopenforasec,andshelookedmeupanddown.“OhmyGod,whodidthistoyou?”
Iglanceddownatmyclothes.“Um—”
“Iwanttotongue-kissthem—youlookincredible!”
Shewalkedthroughthefrontdoor,andmymindwasracingasIshutthedoorbehindher.Istillhadn’ttoldherabouttheparty,orthegame,orMichaelorWesoranyofthequestionablethingsIwasdoingwithmypersonallife.AndWeswasgoingtobethereanyminutenow.
Shit.
“DidyoubuythiswhenyouwerewithWes?”Shewasstillsmiling,soshewasn’tpissedatme.
Yet.
“Yeah—thatjagactuallyfoundacoupleofnicethings.”MycheekswerehotandIfeltliketheguiltwasallovermyface.Iwasagarbagefriend.“Gofigure.”
“Oh,hey,Joss.”Helenacameoutofthekitchenlookingwaycoolerthanmeinjeansandahockeyjersey.“IthoughtIheardthedoor.Doyouwantapoporsomething?”
God,Weswouldbethereanysecondwithhisbigmouth.Nopop!
“No,thanks—Ionlyhaveasecond.I’monmywaytogetmylittlesisterfromsoccer,butLizwon’trespondtomytexts,soIhadtostopby.”
Crap.
Helenasmiledandsaid,“She’stheworst,right?”
JocelynsmiledatHelenabutalsoleveledmewithalook.“Right.”
“I,um,I’mabouttoleavetoo.”IswallowedandhopedIcouldgetheroutoftherequickly.“Infiveminutes.”
“Whereareyougoing?”
Helenahadaskedthequestion,buttheybothstoodthere,staringatmeasItriedtocomeupwithsomething.
“Um,Wesfromnextdoorisgoingtothebasketballgameandhe,um,askedifIwanttogo.Imean,it’sacasual,no-big-dealthing—Iwasjustboredanditsoundedlessboring,y’know?Itotallydon’twanttogobutIsaidIwould.So.”
Jocelyn’seyebrowsshotup.“Youaregoingtoabasketballgame.”ShesaiditlikeI’djustprofessedmyselfatriceratops.“WithWes.Bennett.”
Helenacrossedherarmsoverherchest.“Didn’tyoucalltheparkingpoliceonhimafewdaysago?”
“No,I,um,IsaidIalmostdid.”Ispitoutanawfulfakelaughandshrugged.“Yeah,honestly,IhavenoideawhyIsaidI’dgowithhim.”
Iknewexactlywhy.
“DidBennettmakeyoubuythoseChucks,too?”Jocelynwasstaringatmyshoes.“Becauseyouhatethoseshoes.”
Itwastrue.I’dalwaysthoughtConversehigh-topswereuglyandutterlylackinginarchsupport.NowIhadaweirdaffinityforthemthatmademequestionmyownmentalfortitude.
“Theywereonclearance,soIsaid,‘Whatthehell.’?”Againwiththeterriblelaugh.“WhynotbuysomeChucks,right?”
Jocelyndidalittleheadshake,likeshehadnoideawhatshewaswitnessing
Same,girl.Same.
“Well,personIusedtoknow,Ionlyswungbybecausemymomneedstoknowwhichdaywe’regoingdressshoppingnextweek.”
Ironically,afterI’dfinallyagreedearliertogoshoppingwithher,hermomhadhadtorescheduleforadifferentday.InitiallyIwasrelievedtoputitofflonger,butnowitfeltliketheuniversejustwantedtotortureme.Atthispoint,IkindofjusthopedforadresstobestuffedintomyclosetsoIcouldstophearingthephrase“dressshopping.”
“Ooh—Ilovedressshopping.”Helenatiltedherheadandadded,“Irarelywearthembecausesittinglikealadysucks,buteveryspringIwantracksandracksoffloraldresses.”
“Thisispromdressshopping.”Jocelynwasstilllookingatmyclothesasshesaid,“LizandIaregoingtogether,andmymomsaidshecantakeusdresshunting.”
“Oh.”Helenablinkedandglancedatmeforasecond,andIfeltlikeamonster.She’dmentionedmultipletimesthatshethoughtIshouldgotoprombecauseI’dregretitifIdidn’t,andshe’dalsomentionedmultipletimesthatshecouldtakemedressshoppingandwecould“makeawholedayofit.”
She’dthoughtitwouldbesofun.
Butthathadbeen,like,amonthago,andI’dkindofforgotten.
Kindof.
MyfeelingsaboutHelenadoingthethingsmymomshould’vebeentheretodowithmeweretricky,andmostofthetimeIjustavoidedthemuntiltheywentaway.
Oruntilthishappened.
“Well,I’msurethatwillbeablast.”Hereyesweresad,butshesaid,“Justdon’tgetanythingtoorevealing,okay,guys?”
Jocelyngrinned.“We’lldoourbest,butnopromises.”
Thedoorbellrang—ithadtobeWesthistime,right?—andIfeltnauseousasbothoftheireyeslandedonme.
Isqueezedinbetweenthemandsteppedtowardthedoor.“That’sprobablyWes.”
Iwrappedmyfingersaroundthedoorknobandbracedmyself.WhatweretheoddsthatWeswouldkeephismouthshutandnotsicJocelynandHelenaonmewithtalkofourcollusion?
Ipulledthedooropen.Andtriedtocommunicatethesituationwithonlymyeyes.IhopedtheyweresayingDon’tmakethisworse,butit’slikelythatIjustlookedtwitchy.“Hey,”Isaid.
Weswassmiling,butashelookedatme,hissmilechangedintoaweirdthing,likethesmileofsomeonewho’djustdiscoveredsomething.Itslidupintoawidegrin,andhesaid,“You’reagoodlistener.”
Islammedthedoor.
“Um?”JosspursedherlipsandHelenafurrowedherbrows.“What’stheplanhere?”
Sighing,Iopenedthedooragainandheldupahand.“Don’ttalk.Seriously.Canyoujustnotsayaworduntilwe’reinyourcar?Ormaybe,like,ever?”
“Hi,Wes.”Helenagavehimalittlewave.“ItakeityoufoundLizthismorning?”
Hegavemealookthatwastheequivalentofatonguestick-outandbeamedatHelena.“Idid—thankyou.Idon’tthinkLizappreciatedmypresenceatherworkplace,butIgottherejustthesame.”
Jocelyntiltedherhead.“Soyouwenttoherworktoaskhertogowithyoutothegametonight?”
“Idid.”
Acasualobservation:Weshadgrownintoaprettyattractiveguy.Imean,Iwasn’tpersonallyattractedtohim,butthefadedT-shirthewaswearingshowcasedsomewell-definedbiceps.Combinethemuscleswithhismischievoussmileandheavy-liddeddarkeyes,andhewasprettyfine.
Justnotmytypeatall.
“Liz?”Jossgavemealoadedlook.“CanIseeyouinthebathroomforaminute?”
Notachance.“Wereallyhavetogo,actually,butI’msure—”
“I’llwait.”Wescamefullyinsidethefoyerandswunghiskeysaroundhisfinger.“Takeyourtime.”
Jocelyngrabbedmyelbowandpulledmeallthewaytothetinybathroomthatsatjustpastthekitchen.Assoonasthedoorclosedbehindus,shesaid,“IthoughtWes’scarwasdeadthismorning.”
“What?”
Shesighed.“Youtoldmethatheneededaridetothemallbecausehiscarwasdead.ButHelenajustsaidthathedrovetoDick’stofindyou.”
Holycrap—Helenasaidthat?WasIsodistractedbyWesthatI’dtotallytunedthemout?Craaaaap.Iclearedmythroatandsaid,“No,hiscardiedatDick’s.”
“That’snotwhatyoutoldmeatthemall.”
HowwasIsupposedtorememberwhatItoldanyoneanymore?Notonlywaslyinganuncoolthingtodo,butitwasalsohardtokeepontopof.“Yes,itis.”
Shesighed.“Whatever.ThebottomlineisthatyouareabouttogoonadatewithWesBennett,girl.”
“It’sreallymore—”
“Nope.”Sheshookherhead.“Forsomeonesuperintoloveandshit,you’rekindofclueless.Nowlistentome.Wescametoyourhousethismorning,andwhenyouweren’there,hedroveallthewaytoyourworktoaskyoutogotothegamewithhimwhenheknowsyouarecluelessaboutsports.”
Ohno—no,no,no.Shewasgettingthewrongidea,andifsheheardtherumorthatIactually,youknow,startedatthepartyandhadn’thadthegutstotellheraboutyet,Iwasscrewed.“Hey—”
“Youknowit’sthetruth.Andthenhepretendedtoneedyourshoppinghelp.Thisisadate,Liz.Adate.”
Iwantedtotellherwhatwasreallygoingon,butIwasacoward.Iknewshe’dactlikeIwasMichael’sobsessedstalker,andIjustcouldn’thearit.IlikedWes’sdescriptionbetter,anyway;Michaelwasmylong-lostlove.Isaid,“Itisn’tadate,butIagreethatithasdatepotential.”
Finally,somethingthatwasn’talie.Itdidhavedatepotential.JustnotregardingWes.
“Sodoyouwantthat?”
IfI’dreferencedacertainboyinawaythatwaseasilymisconstrued,well,thatwasn’tmyfault,wasit?Igaveashrugandsaid,“Idon’tknow.Imean,he’sgorgeousandfunsometimes,y’know?”
“Well,yeah,ofcourseIknow—everyonelovesWes.Ijustthoughtyouhatedhim.”
Wasthatathing?DideveryoneloveWes?Imean,it’dseemedliketheattendeesofthekegpartyadoredhim,butithadn’toccurredtomethatitwentbeyondhissocialcircle.Ilivednextdoortohimandwewenttothesameschool.Wasitpossiblehewasloveduniversallywithoutmyeverknowing?
Isaid,“Oh,Ido.Buthatinghimisfunsometimes.So.”
Thatmadeherlaughandopenthedoor.“Idon’tgetit,andwe’regoingtohavetotalktomorrowaboutthisnewlookofyours,butIjustwantedtomakesureyouweren’tmisleadingourboyWesley.”
Whenwegotbacktothefrontdoor,HelenawasmakingWeslaughasshesharedhertakeonthedatingrealityshowthathadhaditsfinalethenightbefore.
“Imean,thewomanactuallysaidthewords‘Iwantamanwhowillputflowerpetalsonmybedeverysinglenightifhethinksitmakesmehappy.’Ifthatisn’taredflag,Idon’tknowwhatis.”
“Becausewhowouldeverwantthat,right?”WesgaveHelenaoneofhisbestsmiles.“Someonehastocleanthatstuffup.”
“Thankyou,Wes.”Helenathrewupherarminappreciationofhiscommiseration.“Andwouldn’tyouhavetodustthepetalsoffthebedbeforeboarding,anyway?Imean,nobodyneedsflowerpetalsstickingtotheirparts,amIright?”
Wessaid,“IknowIdon’t.”
Josslostit,andWeswaslaughing;Imean,itwasprettyfunny.ButHelenawaspurposelymissingthepointoftheromanticstatement.Yeah,itmaybewasalittlecheesy,buttherewassomethingtobesaidformakingthegrandgesture.
Mymomwouldhaveunderstood.
“Youreadytogo,Buxbaum?”Westurnedhisattentiontome,andmyfacegrewhotashiseyesdidatrailovermyhairandoutfit.IhatedthewaymycomplexionalwaysshowedtheworldwhatIwasfeeling,andIdesperatelywishedtherewasawaytoturndowntheheatonmycheeks.
Alas,nosuchluck.
“Youdefinitelylookreadyforsomehoops,”hesaidwithaneyebrowraised,“butI’mstillnotsureyoucanpullitoff.”
“Myvoteisno.”Jocelynleanedinandloweredhervoice.“Caretomakeawager,Bennett?”
“Youguysarehilarious.Ha,ha,ha—Lizknowsnothingaboutsports.”Iopenedthefrontdoor.“Now,I’mgoingtogowatchtheteamsprainsomeankles.Youcomingornot,Wes?”
“It’sbreaksomeankles.”HegaveJocelynandHelenaaskepticallookthatmadethembothchuckleashesaid,“AndI’mrightbehindyou.”
Helenasaid,“Don’tforgetthatyourdadandIaregoingtothemoviestonightandwon’tbebackuntillate.”
“Okay.”Ipulledthedoorclosedbehindus,stressingaboutwhateverthehellJosswasthinkingnow,andsaidtoWes,“God,youneedtochillwiththecharm,okay?”
Hiseyebrowswentup.“Excuseme?”
“IhadtoletJossthinkImightlikeyou,socoolit.Thosetwoareyourtargetaudience;theytotallygoforyourboy-of-mischiefvibe.”Igavehimknock-it-offeyesandpointedathimasweapproachedhiscar.“SofortheloveofGodturnitdown,ortheyaregoingtobeallovermetoactuallydateyou.”
HeopenedthedoorformeandleanedhisarmsonthetopofthewindowwhileIgotin.“Thatwouldbetheworst,right?”
“Theabsoluteworst.”Heslammedthedoor,andIbuckledmyseatbeltashewalkedaroundthecar.Hegotinandstartedtheengine,andIcouldn’thelpbutnoticethathesmelledreally,reallygood.Icouldn’tstopinhaling.
“Isthatsoapordeodorant?”
Hisbighandlandedontheshifter,andhiseyebrowscrinkledwhenhelookedoveratme.“Pardon?”
“Yousmellreallygood,butitisn’tyourusualscent.”
Hedidn’tputthecarindrivebutinsteadjustlookedatme.“Myusualscent?”
“Don’tactlikeI’mweird.Yournormalcologneiskindof,like,piney,buttonightyousmellmore…Idon’tknow…spicy.”Theimageofhimshirtlessandputtingondeodorantpoppedintomyhead,andIclearedmythroat,sendingitaway.
Hisvoicewasdeepandkindofrumblyashegaveathroatychuckle.“Holyshit,LizBuxbaumknowsmyscent.”
“Y’knowwhat?Forgetit.”Iwasgladhe’djustputthecaringearandwaspullingawayfromthecurb,becauseifhelookedatme,Iwascertainmycheekswerecrimson.“Yousmelllikeass.”
Thatmadehimslideintoafull-onlaugh.“Spicy,pineyass,youmean.”
“Hilarious.”Iturnedonhisradioinhopesofasubjectchange.
Itseemedtoworkbecausehesaid,“Ican’tbelieveyou’reactuallywearingtheclothes.”Heturnedonhisblinkerandslowedforthecorner.“IfullyexpectedtoseeyouinagrandmadresswhenIshowedup.”
“Ispentmoneyonthem—ofcourseI’mgoingtowearthem.”
Heglancedoverandlookeddirectlyatmyoutfitbeforereturninghisgazetotheroad.
Whatthehell?Itoyedwithoneofthethreadsonmyshreddedjeansandwonderedwhathethought.NotthatIwasthirstyforacomplimentfromWesBennett—becauseIsowasn’t—butyoucouldn’tlookdirectlyatsomeone’soutfitandnotcommentonsaidoutfit,right?
Itwastotallydisconcerting.Diditnotlookgood?
Iscratchedatthecrisscrossingshredsandsaid,“IsupposeIoweyouathank-you.Notfortryingtomakemeover,youasswad,but—”
“Stillnotoverthat,Isee.”
“BecauseIlikethisoutfit.Ineverwould’venoticeditontherack,butIlikeit.”
“See?I’mgood—”
“Nope.”Ileanedforwardandstartedscanningradiostations.“That’sallthepropsyou’regettingfrommetoday.Unlessyouwantmetospewlikeyourblondfriend.”
“No,thanks.”
Iglancedintohisemptybackseat.“Whereare‘theguys’?”
“They’reatAdam’shouse.We’reallgoingtoloadintohisminivan,andhe’sdriving.”
Justlikethat,mystomachwasaballofnerves.Ididn’tknowhisfriends,sothatwasstressfulenough,butthethoughtofsittinginthebackofaminivanwithMichaelbroughtoutalltheworries.
BecauseIwanted—sobadly—forhimtoseeIwasn’tLittleLizanymore.
“Everyoneissuperchill,sodon’tworry.”Itwaslikehereadmymind,butbeforeIcouldgiveittoomuchthought,hesaid,“Ooh—Ilikethatsong.”
“Idotoo.”Istoppedscanning,surprisedthatWesandIagreedonanything.Itwas“Paradise”byBazzi,whichwasprettyoldandprettypoppy.Butitwasoneofthosesongsthatjusthadafeeltoit,likealongwiththenotes,youalsoreceivedahealthydoseofsummerysunshinethatkissedyourshouldersasyouwalkeddowntownatdusk.
Hisphonebuzzedatthatmoment,andwebothglanceddownatwhereitsatinthecupholder.Thetopofthelittlenotificationboxsaid“MichaelYoung.”
“Lookslikeyourboyistexting.”
“OhmyGod!”IpicturedMichael’sface,andmyheartspeedpickedup.
“Youlook.Idon’ttextanddrive.”
“Howveryresponsibleofyou,”IsaidasIgrabbedhisiPhone.Holdingitfeltoddlypersonal,likeIwasholdingthebookofhissociallifeinmyhands.Iwonderedwhowassavedinhisfavorites,whohetextedonaregularbasis,and—Godhelpme—whatimageslivedonhiscameraroll.
“Notreally.Ijusthatedeathandprison.”
“Understandable,althoughImusttellyou,I’mutterlyfascinatedbysomeonesocasualabouthavingtheirphoneinsomeoneelse’shands.”
“Ihavenosecrets,”hesaid,andIwonderedifthatweretrue.
“Passcode,please.”Hislock-screenpicturewasashotofhisdog,Otis,whichwasprettydangadorable.He’dhadthatoldgoldenretrieverforaslongasIcouldremember.
“Zero-five-zero-four-two-one.”
“Thankyou.”IopenedhismessagesandlookedatwhatMichaelhadsent.
Michael:SodidyoutalkLizintocoming?
“Holycrap—heaskedifI’mcoming!”IturneddownthevolumeontheradioandsaidtoWes,“Doesthatmeanhe’shopingyes?”
“Sincehe’stextingme,”hemuttered,givingmeside-eyeandajawflex,“I’mgoingtogowithno.”
“Hemight.”Ididn’tlikethatanswer.“Youdon’tknow.”
“Soundslikehe’sjusttakingaheadcount,Liz.”Helookedoveratmeandpointedtohisphone.“Wanttoanswerhim?”
“Seriously?”
Hegaveashrug.“Whynot?”
Iinhaled.“Um,okay.Uh…”
“You’repathetic.”Westurneddownawoodedstreet.“Ithinkasolidanswerwouldbe‘Yep,’don’tyou?”
IsaidthewordsoutloudasItexted.“Yep.Wearealmostthere.”
Send.
IwasabouttosetthephoneinWes’scupholderwhenitbuzzedinmyhands.
Michael:Sweet.I’llputinagoodwordforyou.
Wes(me):Awesome,dude.IglancedoveratWes,thenadded:Btw,Iloveyourhair.Youhavetotellmewhatproductyouuseinit.
Ibitmyliptoholdinthesmile.
Michael:You’rejoking,right?
IglancedatWesagainbeforequicklyadding:Deadserious.You’remyhairhero.Seeyouinafew.
IputthephoneinthecupholderandgaveWesafullsmilewhenhepulledinfrontofahouseandlookedmyway.
“Thisisit,”hesaidasheputitinpark,hiseyesgoinguptomyhairbeforereturningtomyface.“Ready?”
“Asaheartattack.”
“Youknowthat’snotright,right?”
“Yeah.”SometimesIforgotthatnoteveryonewasinmyhead.“Ilikemixedmetaphors.”
Thesideofhismouthhitchedup.“Howveryrebelliousofyou,Elizabeth.”
Ijustrolledmyeyesandgotoutofhiscar.
Wedidn’tevengouptofrontdoor.IfollowedWesashewalkedaroundthehouseandopenedthefencegate.
Buthestoppedshortofgoingintotheyard,causingmetorunintohisback.
“God,Wes.”IfeltridiculouslyawkwardasIrammedmybreastsintohisback.“What’reyoudoing?”
Heturnedaroundandlookeddownatme,thetiniesthintofasmileonhislips.Therewassomethingabouthissmile,thewayitnotonlyshowedoffperfectteethbutalsomadehisdarkeyesfunandtwinkly,thatmadeitimpossiblenottosmileback.“IjustwanttoremindyouthatMichaelthinksI’mtryingtomakegroundwithyou.Soifhedoesn’tseemintoyou,don’ttakeitpersonally.He’sagoodguy,sohe’sprobablygoingtokeephisdistanceuntilheknowswe’renotathing.Cool?”
Ididn’tknowifitwastheslightbreezethatwasdoingitorthefactthathewassoclose,buthismasculinecologne(ordeodorant—he’dneveransweredmyquestion)keptfindingmynoseandmakingitreallyhappy.Iinhaledagainandtuckedmyhairbehindmyears.“Areyoutryingtoreassureme?”
Hiseyessquintedlikehewantedtogrin,buthegavehisheadashakeinstead.“God,no.You’reonyourown,emotionallyspeaking.I’mjustinthisfortheForeverSpot.”
Thesmiletookovermylips,whetherIwantedittoornot.“Okay,good.”
HetousledmyhairlikeIwasalittlekid—thejag—andthenstartedwalkingtowardtheunattachedgarageintheback.Hissuddenphysicalityhadbeenjarring—familiarandstrangeallatonce—andittookmeaminutetofullyrecover.Icouldseethreepeoplestandingnexttothefirstdoor,andIquicklyfinger-combedmyhairasIfollowed,mypulsequickeningasI-don’t-know-these-peoplenervesslitheredthroughme.
ItookadeepbreathandtherewasMichael,talkingandleaningagainstarustedsilvervaninjeansandablackfleecejacketthatmadehisbaby-blueeyespop.So,sopretty.
“Don’tbenervous.”Wessaiditoutofthesideofhismouthandnudgedmewithhisshoulderbeforeimmediatelylaunchingintointroductions.“ThisisNoah,Adam,andyouknowMichael.”
“Hey,”Isaid,myfaceburningastheyalllookedatme.Iwasterriblewithnames,butnicknameswouldhelp.IcommittedSmirkyFace(Noah),HawaiianShirt(Adam),andMr.RightwiththePerfectButt(Michael,ofcourse)tomemory.Everyonewasfriendlyenough.HawaiianShirtsaidherememberedmefrommiddleschoolbecausewe’dhadthesamehomeroomteacher,andthenheandNoahstarteddiscussinghowcoolMs.Brandhadbeeninseventh-gradereading.
Itwasallveryblandanduninteresting,soItunedthemoutandtriedtolookeverywherebutatMichael.Triedandfailed.NomatterwhatItoldmybrain,myeyeballscontinuallysearchedhimoutandtookastrollalloverhishandsomeface.
Weswastotallyontome,andwhenhemadeeyecontact,heshookhishead.
Whichmademestickoutmytongue.
SmirkyFacetiltedhishead—totallysawthetongue—butWessavedmebysaying,“Arewegoingorwhat?”
Weallloadedintotheminivan,andjustasIwasabouttograbaseatinthemiddlerow,Wespushedmetowardthebackandmuttered,“Trustme.”
Hepushedaroundmeandploppedintotheleftwindowspot,whichleftmetheopenseatrightbetweenhimandMichael.IlookedatWesasIsatdown,andhegavemeaGoforiteyebrowraisethatmademynosegetwarmasAdamstartedthevanandpulledoutofthealley.
Wesstartedtalkingtotheguysinfront,leaningforwardtotalkoverthesecondrow,kindofgivingmeandMichaelatinybitofprivacy.Iclearedmythroatandwashyperawareofhowclosehislegwastomyleg.Whattosay?Mymindwasacompleteandtotalblank,sendingasolidlyflatEKGlineasmymouthceasedtofunction.
Timeofdeath:5:05.
InallthetimesI’dimaginedourmagicalfirstmoments,I’dneveronceconsideredthatIwouldbeawkwardlystaringatmyknees,totallymute,hopingwhateversmelledmildewyinthecarwasn’tsomehowme,whileaterriblesongbyFloridaGeorgiaLinetwangedinthespeakersbehindourheads.
Michaelwaslookingdownathisphone,andIknewIwasrunningoutoftime.Saysomethingclever,Liz.Iopenedmymouthandalmostsaidsomethingabouttheparty,butIcloseditagainwhenIrealizedthatremindinghimofthevomitincident—andconjuringtheimageofhurled-uponmeforhim—wasaterribleidea.
OhmyGod—sayanything,youloser!
Then—“Liz.”
Myeyesjumpeduptohisface,butlookingathimmademystomachdowildthings,andIloweredmyeyestohisjacketzippertosteadymynerves.EventhoughmyfacewasonfireandIwasprettysurethereweretinybeadsofsweatonthetipofmynose,Itriedtoactbreezyandteasingbysaying,“Michael.”
Hesmiled.“CanItellyousomething?”
OhGod.
Whatwashegoingtosay?Whatcouldhepossiblysaywhenhe’donlybeenbackformeredays?IbracedmyselfforhisconfessionthatmyperfumemadehimnauseousorthatIhadsomethingdisgustingstickingoutofmynose.“Ofcourse.”
Hiseyeswentuptomyhairforatinysecondbeforetheylandedbackonmyeyesandhesaid,“Youreallylookalotlikeyourmomnow.”
Wasitpossibletofeelyourownheartstop?Probablynot,buttherewasacatchinmychestasIpicturedmymother’sfaceandhadtherealizationthatMichaelstillrememberedherfacetoo.Hecouldstillpictureher.Ihadtoblinkfasttokeepittogether,becauseinthewholeofmyentirelife,thatwasthemostimportantcomplimentI’deverreceived.MyvoicewasfroggyandpinchedasIsaid,“Youthinkso?”
“Ireallydo.”Hesmiledatmebutlookedalittleunsure,doubtfulinthewaypeoplealwayslookedwhentheywonderedifthey’dmadeamistakebymentioningmymom’sexistence.“I’msorryaboutthe,um,the—”
“Thankyou,Michael.”Icrossedmylegs,shiftingsoIwasfacinghimalittlemore.Thetruthwas,Ilikedtalkingaboutmymom.Bringingherupincasualconversation—puttingwordsaboutheroutintotheuniverse—feltlikekeepingapieceofherherewithme,eventhoughshehadbeengonesolongalready.“Shealwayslikedyou.Imean,itwasprobablybecauseyouweretheonlypersonwhodidn’thideunderherbirdbathandtrampleherdaisiesduringhide-and-seek,butitcounts.”
Hisblueeyessuckedmeinashesmiledandgaveanincrediblypleasingdeepchuckle.“I’lltakeit.Isthatwhatyourtattooisabout?Yourmom’sdaisies?”
Myheartforsurestoppedthen,andallIcoulddowasnodinresponseashappytearssprungupinthecornersofmyeyes.Iturnedmyheadawayfromhim,blinkingquicklyafewtimes.He’dseenmytattoo,andwithoutanyexplanation,he’dgottenit.HemightnothaveknownthatmymotherhadlovedthelineinYou’veGotMailaboutdaisiesbeingthefriendliestflower,buttheflowershadmadehimthinkofher.Weslookedoveratme,andhiseyebrowspulledtogetherashewenttospeak,butIjustshookmyhead.Forsomereason,thevanbeganslowingeventhoughwe’donlybeenontheroadforafewminutes.
“Whyarewestopping?”WescalleduptoAdam.
“ThisisLaney’shouse.”
Myheadwhippedtotheleft,andjustpastWes’sfaceIcouldseeLaneythroughthewindow,exitingabig,whitecolonial-stylehome.Sheskippeddownthestepsinherdanceoutfit,asparklyblackleotardthatwouldhaveilluminatedmyflawsbutwascomingupemptyonhers,andIfeltqueasyasIwatchedherpullopenthevan’sslidingdoor.
Sothat’swhytherewasanopenseat.
MymomentwithMichaelandthehappymemoriesofmymomdisappearedasLaneysteppedintothevanandpulledthedoorshutbehindher.HadMichaelinvitedher?Didhewantmetomovesoshecouldsitinmyspot?Wasshe,like,hisdate?AndIwasWes’s?
“Thankyousomuchforcomingbackforme.”ShesatdownintheseatinfrontofMichael,andhersubtleperfumewaftedbacktowhereIwassitting,anolfactoryreminderthatshewasamazingdowntothesmallestdetail.Sheglancedbackatusandsaidtome,“Oh,hey,Liz—Ididn’tknowyouwerecoming.Iwould’veassumedyoudidn’tlikesports.”
Iforcedasmile,butitdidn’tfeellikemylipswerefullyextendedasIseethedinside.Ofcourseshewasright,butwhywouldsheassumethataboutme?BecauseIdidn’twearasillyletterjacket?AndIwasprettysureitwasnoaccidentthatshewaspointingitoutinfrontofMichael.ItriedtosoundbreezyforthesecondtimethatnightwhenIsaid,“YethereIam.”
Anddammit—she’dmademeforgettolookandseewhatMichael’shouselookedlike.
Shefacedforwardandsaidtotheguysinfront,“Well,therewasnowayIwasgoingtobereadybythetimeMichaelleft,butinmydefense,hedidn’thavetoputonstagemakeupandsqueezeintoacostumeeither.”
Everyonelaughed—ofcourse—asLaneylaunchedintoacutediatribeaboutwhatittooktogetdance-ready.
“Ihadnoideashewascoming,”Wessaid,surprisingme.HismouthwassoclosetomyearthatIliterallyshivered.“Iswear.”
WhateverWessaidabouttheForeverSpot,inthatmomentIcouldn’thelpbutthinkthathewasalsohelpingmeoutbecausehewasgenuinelynice.Joss’swordsechoedinmyhead.EveryonelovesWes.
Iwasstartingtoseewhy.
IleanedclosertohimsohecouldhearmewhenImurmured,“Youwererightaboutthewholethunder-stealingthing,though.Iamactuallyinvisiblenow.”
HegavemeaNo-you’re-notlook,butIwasn’tevengoingtotrytoconvincemyselfotherwise.Laneyhadturnedaroundinherseatandwasgivingtheplay-by-playdirectlytoMichael,andalightlysickfeelingsettledinmystomach.Howwasthisfair?Thegirlwaswearingheavymakeup,abedazzledcatsuit,andaridiculouslyhugebowsmack-dabonthetopofherhead.Sheshould’velookedlikeQueenoftheClowns.
Butshelookedcute
Andtheworstpartwasthatshewasunbelievablycharming.Shesomehowmanagedtoburyherrancidsoulandtotallypulloffthatshewasagenuinelydelightfulhumanbeing.
Itwaswitchcraft,that.
Therewasnowaytocompetewithaone-womanperfectionshow,soIgaveupandgotoutmyphonetoread.I’dstartedareallygoodbookthatmorning,soIpickedupwhereI’dleftoffandtriedgettinglostinthejoyofHelenHoang.
Josstextedmeaminutelater.
Joss:Hey.DidyougotoRyno’sparty?
Shit.MystomachsankasItyped:Wesinvitedmeatthelastminute,anditwasatotalnightmare.IwasgoingtotellyouaboutitearlierbutHelenainterrupted.
Joss:WTH?Ialwaysinviteyoutomystuff.
Me:Ithoughtaboutit,butyousaidRyno’spartieswereimmaturebullshit,soIknewyouwouldn’twanttogo.
Joss:Ijustthinkit’sweirdthatyouwouldn’ttellmeyouweregoing.You’resketchallofasudden.
Iglancedupfrommyphone,searchingforexcuses,butallIgotwastheimpressionthatLaneywasbrainwashingalloftheboysintojoininghercultofadorability.NothingtosavemefromthefactthatIwasbeingacrappyfriend.
Me:Iwasjusttryingtorescueyoufromawhollyterribletime.
Joss:Whatever.Igottagotoworknow.
Isighed,tellingmyselfI’dmakeituptohersomehow,andwentbacktoreading.ButI’donlyreadaboutthreeparagraphswhenWessaid,“MindifIreadoveryourshoulder?I’mbored.”
Igavehimside-eye.“Youwouldn’tlikethis.Trustme.”
“WillyoushutupsoIcanread?”
MymouthwantedtosmilebutIclearedmythroatandsaid,“Sorry.”
Itriedgettingbackintothebook,butnowIwashyperawarethathewasreadingeveryparagraphoftheflirty,sexy-sweetbookaswell.Ikeptscrolling,butthewordsweredifferentnow,cartwheelingovereachotherwithnewtumblingcontextasthemaincharactersstartedhavingamildlysexualconversation.
Iturnedoffmyphonewhentheywentintoabedroomtogether.
“Yourcheeksaresored,”hesaidquietly,hisdeepvoicerichwithrestrainedlaughter.“Why’dyoustopreading?”
Icoughedoutalaughandfacedhim,hisdarkeyesmischievousashegavemeaknowingsmirk.Isaid,“It’sjusttoobumpytoreadinhere.”
“Ah,yes.”Hegavemeaslownodashislipsslidintoafullsmile.“It’sthebumpinessthatmadeyoustopreading.”
“Imightgetcarsickandvomitonyouifyouaren’tcareful.”
“Oh,Liz.”Laneyleanedthroughthespacebetweenthetwoseatsandsaid,“Iheardaboutthat—aboutAshgettingsickonyou.Thatissoterrible.Shefeelssoooobad.”
Mysmilewentawayassheputahandoverherheartandgavemeanempatheticpout.Wasshebringingituponpurposetomakemelookbad?Ishruggedandsaid,“What’sapartyifyoudon’tgetpukedon?”
IheardMichaelchucklebesidemeandfeltlikeI’dwonthatpoint.Laneyjumpedrightbackintohernonstopchatter,soIputinmyearbudstoletthesoundsofWickedFacesdrownouthernonsense.BeforeIhitplay,IpausedtoofferWesanend.Hetookit,andwelistenedinsilenceuntilwemadetheturnintotheschoolparkinglot.
AsAdamputthecarinpark,Laneyfinallysaidsomethingthatmademehappy.Shepulledopentheslidingvandoorandsaid,“Thanksagainfortheride,Adam.I’vegottogofindtheteam.Anddon’tforget—I’mridingthebusback.”
ThatmeantIwouldhaveallofthebasketballgametotalktoMichael—withoutthedistractionofdreadingtheridehome.Nooneactuallywatchedthegameatsportsfunctions,right?
Weshandedmebackmyearbud,butwhenItriedtocatchhiseyetosilentlycommunicatehowthrilledIwasatthegoodnews,hewastoobusytextingsomeonetonotice.
Asitturnsout,highschoolbasketballgamesareincrediblyloud.
IsatbetweenMichaelandWes,andtheotherssatintherowinfrontofus.Thepepbandwastoourleft,andtheyseemedtobeallhopped-upondeafeningenthusiasm.Theyblastedoutaconstantstreamoftunesthatmadeitimpossibletoconverse.ItlookedlikethehopeofmakingMichaelseetherealmewasgoingtohavetowaituntilafterthegame.
Iwaskindofokaywiththat,though,becauseIlikedthevibeofthegym.Theplacewasteemingwithenergy,likeeverysinglepersoninthatgymwasabouttoexplodewiththeiruncontrollableexcitement.Theteamwaswarmingup,anditfeltlikesomethingbigwasabouttohappen.
Ballsbounced,studentsclimbedthestepsofthebleacherslookingfortheirfriends,minutestickeddownonthegiantscoreboard,andcheerleadersdancedintimewiththeband.IlookedatLaneyandwatchedformistakes,butofcoursetherewerenonetobeseen.Shedideverychoreographedmovelikeshe’dcreatedit,hersmileneverwaveringasshekicked,spun,andcheeredinperfectunisonwiththeothergirls.
Disappointing.
IglancedatMichael,butthankfullyhewastalkingtotheguynexttohim.
Wesnudgedmewithhisshoulder.“Havingfun?”Hekindofyelleditintomyear.“Atall?”
Ilaughedintohisear.“Thebandisontheirthirdperformanceof‘UptownFunk,’soIreallyfeellikeit’sgearinguptobeaspecialevening.”
Thatmadehimsmile.Heleanedincloser,buthisfaceremainedfixedonthebasketballcourt.“Allright,Buxbaum—let’smakethisinteresting.Ifthatguyrightthere,”hesaid,pointingtonumber51onourteam,“outscoresnumbertwenty-threeontheotherteam,youwinfiftybucks.”
“What?Why?”
“Noquestions.Doyouwantafittyornot?”
“Er,ofcourse.”IwasfiftydollarsshortonTHEdress,afterall.“Butwhatifhedoesn’t?”
“Thenyouwashmycar.”
Ipicturedhiscar.“Yourcarseemedprettycleanearlier.What’sthecatch?”
“Nocatch.”Hegaveatinyshrug,crossedhislongarms,andsaid,“Imean,Imayormaynotbeoff-roadinginSpringfieldtomorrow,butIwouldn’tcallthatacatch.”
“You’resuchacheater.”Ilookedathisteasingfaceasthebandstartedplaying“HitMewithYourBestShot,”andIsaid,“Butyou’reon.What’sfifty-one’sname?”
“MattKirk.”
Iwatchednumber51hitashotfrombehindthewhiteline,andIturnedtosmileatWes.Buthewasn’twatchingthecourt.Hewaslookingatme—smirking,actually,inawaythatmademystomachdoalittlestutterthing.Iblinked,turningbacktothecourt,hopinghedidn’tnoticewhateverlittleblipthatwas.Thenthebuzzerwentoff,andthankfullyjoltedmebackfromwhateverweirdplacethatmomentwasallabout.
“Ihadnoideay’allweresointobasketball.”Michaellookedalittleimpressedbymyfanhoodaswewalkedpasttheconcessionstandanddownthehallway,followingWes,Noah,andAdam.
IowedWesahugethanksforthefifty-buckbet,becausenotonlyhaditcausedmetogetintothebasketballgametothepointthatIforgotaboutLaneyandeverythingelseintheworld,butapparentlyithadraisedmyvalueinMichael’seyes.
“Well,um,it’stheplayoffs.”IknewWeswouldsmileifheheardmeusinghiswords.Itwashalftime,andwewereabouttosneakintoLincoln’spracticegymsowecouldshootarounduntilthegamerestarted.By“we”Imeanteveryonebutme.
“Itakeityou’reprettygoodfriendswithMatt?”
“Who?”
Helookedconfused,eventhoughhewasstillsmiling.“Numberfifty-one?Youwerealloverhisgame.”
Duh.“Oh,yeah.Matt.We’re…buds.”
Buds?Really?Saysomethingcoolforonceinyourlife!SomethingthatelevatesyoubeyondLittleLiz.Iclearedmythroatandadded,“Wedatedforawhile,butultimatelydecidedthatwe’rebetterasfriends.”
Yeah,lyingdefinitelymakesitbetter.
Ididn’tknowwhatIwasdoinganymorewithallthelying,tobehonest.I’dalwaysconsideredmyselfaprettytruthfulperson,butnowI’dliedtoJoss,toHelena,andtoMichael.Whenwasitgoingtostop?
WeswastheonlyoneIhadn’tliedtolately,andthatwasbecauseIwasn’ttryingtopleasehimorimpresshim.HeknewthemessthatIwas,sotherewasreallynopoint.
“Yeah,Igetthat.”Michael’sshoulderbumpedmineinacasualyet—Iwas99percentsure—purposefulway.Iwasprettysuremyunnecessaryliehadjustscoredmeapoint.Hesaid,“I’vehadgirlfriendslikethat.”
“Comeon.”Noahwasholdingopenadoorandgesturingforustohurry.“Getinbeforesomeoneseesus.”
Wefollowedhimthroughthedoorandintothepracticegym.Adamfoundaballoverbythecornerdrinkingfountainwhiletheotherguysdecidedteams.
“Youplaying,Buxbaum?”WesgavemealooklikeIshouldsayyes,butIknewmyskilllevelwoulddonothingtohelpme.
“I’llwatch,butthanks.”Ipulledtheearbudsoutofmyfrontpocket—Ialwayshadatleastthreepairsonmypersonatanygiventime—beforeclickingonmymusic.IdroppedtothefloorandsatcrisscrossapplesauceasIpoppedtheearbudsinandwatchedtheboysplay.
Andjustlikethat,theywereall-inontheirhalftimegame.WesandNoahwereoneteam;MichaelandAdamweretheother.Noahtalkednonstopshit,andhisverbalsparringwithMichaelandAdammademelaughbecauseitwasbrutalandcockyandhilarious.
Michaelmadesomeshots,buthewasovershadowedbyWes,whoseemedreally,reallygoodatbasketball.
Thiswasgoingtobefun.
I’dnevercreatedasoundtrackforasportyevent—andmyrunningplaylistsdidn’tcount—butIalwaysthoughttherewasaspecificmagictothem.Imean,thesoundtracktoRemembertheTitans?Stone-coldridiculous.Thecuratorhadmanagedamasterpiecethatleftthesongsforeverchangedforeverypersonwho’dseenthefilm.
Whocouldhear“Ain’tNoMountainHighEnough”withoutpicturingBluesinginginthelockerroomafterthatnightmarishpracticeattrainingcamp?AndJamesTaylor’s“FireandRain”wascompletelyreincarnatedbythatmovie.Icouldn’trememberwhatI’dimaginedwhenlisteningtothatsongbeforeI’dseenthemovie,butfortherestofmylifeIwasalwaysgoingtopicturethecaraccidentthatleftBertierparalyzed.
IwatchedNoahdribbledownthecourt.Hebouncedtheballwiththeconfidenceofonewhoknewtheballwouldn’tbestolenfromhim.Inspired,Iscrolledforsomethingloud,becausethegameIwaswatchingwasallaboutnoise.Itwasacacophonyofvoices,grunts,sneakersqueaks,andbounces.
Icranked“Sabotage”bytheBeastieBoys.Itwasn’toriginal,butitwasperfection.IkeptraisingthevolumeasAdRocksettheperfectbackdropforthissweatymatchup.NoahsmirkedashejukedaroundAdam,andrightafterthefirstsetofrecordscratches,hesteppedbackandletgoofashotthatarcedhighintotheairbeforeswishingintothebasket.Nothingbutnet.
So-so-so-solistenup’causeyoucan’tsaynothin’
MichaelpassedtheballtoAdam,whowasfastandsprinteddowntothecorner,butWeswasalreadytherewithhishandsup.AdambounceditovertoMichael,whodribbledunderneaththebasketandjustputitin,likeitwaseasy.
Listenally’allit’sasabotage…
Adampassedtheballrightatthesong’smiddlescream,andIwasbuzzing,aliveinthewaythatIonlyfeltwhenIgotthematchupexactlyright.Iflifewasamovie,thissongwasmeantforthismoment.
Musicmadeeverythingbetter.
WhenNoahpoppedathree-pointertowinthegame,Itotallysatupandyelled.Only,Iwascheeringmyownlittlevictory,nottheirs.
Everyoneinstantlyrelaxedoncethegamewasover,talkingandcasuallytakingshotsatthebasket.IscrolledtoJoeCocker’s“Feelin’Alright”asIwatchedthesportsmanshipinfrontofme.Noahwasarguing—loudly—withAdamastheybothlaughed,andWeswasdoingsometerribledancemovebesidethem,alsolaughing.
Therewassomethingsweetinthewaytheymovedfromfoestofriends,fromathleticrivalstosimpleteenageboys,theminutethatthemetaphoricalwhistleblewthegameover.
“Whatchasmilin’at?”
Ijumpedandmyhandflewuptomyheartbeforeyankingthebudsfrommyears
IturnedmyheadatanawkwardangletoseeMichaelstandingbesidemeandlookingdownatmyface.
“Youscaredme!”
“Sorry.”Hegavemealittlesmile,andmystomachflippedallthewayupsidedown.Hisblondhairwassweatyontheouterfringes,butitwaslikethesweatworkedasagelandheldallthespikypartsinplace.Hiseyeswerewarmashesaid,“Youlookedsohappy,justsittingtherewithyourearbudsin.Ishouldn’thavedisturbedyou.”
“Oh,that’sokay.”Ituckedmyhairbehindmyearsandsaid,“I,um,Ijustlove…”
LordknowsIdidn’tlovesports,soIwavedmyhands,gesturingaroundthegym,hopingthatwouldsufficeandsavemefromanotherfib.
“Wannashootaround?”Hewassmilingdownatme,andInoticedthathereallydidhavegreathair.Heactuallycouldbeahairheroifthatwerearealthing.
“I’mterriblyuncoordinated,”Isaid,andIcaughtaglimpseofWesinmyperipheralvision.Imadethemistakeofturningmyheadinhisdirection,andhegavemeadoublethumbs-upwithacheesysmileandeyebrowwaggle.
Oh,forthelove.
Michaeldribbledandsaid,“Youcan’tbethatbad.”
Ireturnedmyattentiontohimandsaid,“Isocan.”
“Comeon.”Hestoppeddribblingandheldoutahandtopullmeup.“I’llhelpyourshot.”
Igrabbedhishand,andwarmthshotthroughmyeverymoleculeashepulledmetomyfeet.Ifollowedhimashedribbledtowardtheopenhoop,andassoonaswegotclose,heletashotflyanditwentin.Igotthereboundandhesaid,“Let’sseeyourshot.”
Ithitmeatthatsecondthatwecouldbeabouttohaveamoviemoment.Igavehimasmileandsaid,“Heregoesnothing.”
Ofitsownaccord,“Paradise”byBazzistartedinmyhead.
ThisshitfeellikeFridaynights
Thisshitmakemefeelalive—
Ireleased,andwatchedmyhard-coreairballfailmajorly.Asin,theballflewmany,MANYfeetshortandtothesideofthebasket.WhenIstartedtolaugh,Michaeljustsmiledatme,andthelookonhisfacewassocharming,itmademewanttowriteapoem.
InsteadIsaid,“Areyoubitingtheinsideofyourcheeksoyoudon’tlaugh?”
Henarrowedhiseyes.“Youcanseethat?”
“Iseeall,youngMichael.”
Hegavemeanadorablyplayfullookandsaid,“It’sactually‘MichaelYoung.’?”
“Oh,yes,”Isaid,“That’sright.”
“Well.”Heretrievedtheballandbounceditthroughhislegs,givingmeahalfsmilethatmademeabitlight-headed.“Ifyoucanseeall,youcanprobablyseethatWesleykindofhasathingforyou.”
Thesongstoppedwitharecordscratch.
“Pft—whaaat?No,”Istalled.EventhoughIknewthiswastheanglewewereplaying,IpicturedWesonthedaywhenhe’ddraggedarustedoldtruckbumperintoTheSpotjustsoIcouldn’tparkthere.IfMichaelonlyknewthehalfofit.
“I’mtellingyou,Liz.”Hepassedmetheball,andIactuallycaughtit.“Theboytoldme.”
Oof.Suddenlytheliewasn’taseasytomanageasI’dthoughtitwouldbe.Weshadalreadytalkedtohim?WhatwasIsupposedtosayagain?Ibouncedtheball,focusingonnotlettingitgetoutofcontrol.“Oh.Um.IlikeWes,butonlyasafriend.”
“Youshouldreconsider—he’sareallygoodguy.”
Ismiledathim,tryingnottobeamlikealovesickfoolashestoodtherelookingliketheposterboyforeverythingI’deverwanted.“Wesisnota‘reallygoodguy,’Michael—comeon.He’s…”Istoppeddribbling.“Wesisfunandunpredictableandthelifeoftheparty.He’sgotgoodqualities,butheisnotgood.”
ButasIsaidit,Ididn’tquitefeelitanymore.ThatwashowI’dalwaysthoughtofhim,butitwasbecomingcleartomethateitherhe’dchangedorI’dbeenwrongallalong.
Michaelgaveasmallnodasifrecognizingmypoint.“Still.”
Iraisedtheballtoshoot,butMichaelcamebehindmeandmovedmyhandssoIwasholdingtheballadifferentway.Itfeltlikehisfingertipsburnedtheireverygrooveintomyskin,andIhadahardtimerememberinghowtoevenusemyappendages.Histannedhandswerespreadaroundmypalefingersandchippedturquoisepolish,andinspiteofthatsomehow-romanticimage,Istillmanagedtoreleasetheballandactuallysenditthroughthehoop.
“Didyouteachherthat,Young?”Iturnedawayfromthebasket,andtherewasWes,walkingupbesideMichael.“Becauseshedamnsuredidn’tknowhowtodothatbefore.”
Ipickeduptheball.“Howwouldyouknow?”
“Iknowall,Buxbaum.”
Irolledmyeyesanddribbledintheotherdirection.
“Imayhavegivensomepointers,butthatshotwasallLittleLiz,”IheardMichaelsay.Icringed.“Andbytheway,aboutmyhair.”
Istoppeddribblingandglancedovermyshoulder.Wes’seyebrowswerequirkedlikehewasbothconfusedandinterestedtohearwhatwasabouttofollow.Michaeltouchedthefrontofhishairandsaid,“IuseIeatestylingpomadeonthefront,togetittoholdbutnotlookrigid,andthenIjustputalittlegelonthesides.”
“Isee.”ThecornersofWes’smouthlookedliketheywantedtosmile,butIcouldtellhewasn’tsureifMichaelwasseriouslytalkingabouthishairorbeingasmart-ass.
“Yourhairwouldprobablydothesamething,honestly,ifyougrewitoutandgotagoodcut.”
IalmostlaughedwhenIsawthechangeonWes’sfaceasherealizedthatMichaelwasdeadserious.“Youreallythinkso?”Wessaid.
“Forsure.”MichaelgaveWesapatontheshoulder,flashedanadorablegrin,andsaid,“Youcanbeyourownhairhero.”
Uh-oh.
“Um,Michael?”Ihadtostepinandshutitdown.
“Yeah?”
Shoot—Ihadtosaysomething.“Erm—haveyougivenanymorethoughttoprom?Ifyou’regoingtogowithsomeone?Maybeafriendorwhatever.”Oh,fortheloveofNoraEphron,thatseemedwaytooforward.Iclearedmythroatandadded,“Whataboutyou,Wes—areyougoing?Itjustseemslikealotofpeopleareskippingthisyear.Iheard.”
Michael’seyeswereonme,likehe’dconsideredmefortheposition,andIfeltelectric.Hesaid,“I’mstill—”
Atthatsamesecond,IheardNoahyell,“Headsup!”
Whichwasahalfsecondbeforeahurtlingbasketballslammedintomyfaceandknockedmeflatonmyass.
“Iamsosorry.”
ItriedtolookatNoahbutcouldn’tseehimthroughthewaddedshirtovermynoseandbecauseofthewaymyheadwastiltedallthewayback.TheonlythingsIcouldseewereshirtandceiling.“Stopapologizing.It’sfine.”
Itwasn’tfine.Imean,itwasinthatIwasn’tmadatNoah.Apparentlyhe’dbeengoofingaroundandhadtriedtoviolentlychest-passtheballtoAdam,whohadn’tknownandhadmovedoutofthewayatthemostinopportunetime.
ThingshadbeengoingsowellwithMichaeljustbeforethatballhadpoundedintomynose.Oneminutewe’dbeenhavingapotentialmoviemoment,andthenexttherewasbloodgushingfrommyface.
Anditcouldn’thavejustbeenatinybloodynose.Nope.Notforme,notinfrontofMichaelYoung.Themomenttheballhit,itwaslikeafaucethadbeenturnedon.Wespulledoffhisshirt,shoveditagainstmynose,andhelpedmesitupwhileMichaelsquattedbesideme,askingifIwasokay,withconcernedeyes.
Mynewwhiteshirtwascoveredinblood,andmyjeanswereprettysplatteredtoo.IwasgladIdidn’thaveamirror;IwassureI’ddieofembarrassmentifIcouldseemyself.Nooneintheworldhadeverlookedattractivewithbloodpouringfromanorifice.
Noone.
AndasIsattherebleeding,Icouldn’thelpbutwonderiftheuniversewassendingmeamessage.Imean,IwasmoreoptimisticthanmostandIwholeheartedlybelievedindestiny,butI’dbelyingifIsaidredflagsweren’tpoisedtoraise.
BecauseboththevomitandthebloodhadhappenedrightwhenI’dbeenhavingmomentswithMichael.Bothtimes,it’dfeltlikewewereconnecting,andthenBOOM.Bodilyfluids.
“Stillokay,Buxbaum?”
Icouldn’tseeWes’sface,buthisdeepvoicemademerelax.ProbablybecauseIknewhimbetterthantherestofthem.He’ddroppedtothegroundbesidemeaftershovinghisshirtagainstmyface,andthesmellofhim,combinedwithhisunexpectednurturingside,keptmecalm.
“Noah,youbrokethegirl’sface.”
“Ifyouwould’veactuallycaughtthepass,youbum,poorLizwouldn’tbeonthetransplantlist.”
Iwasstartingtosightlesslyrecognizetheirvoicesbecausetheyneverstoppedjawing.
Adamsaid,“HowcanIcatchsomethingIdidn’tknowwascoming?”
“Howcanyounot?”Noahsaiditaroundasnort.“It’scalledinstinct.”
“Istheresuchathingasanosetransplant?”ThatsoundedlikeAdamagain.“Justcurious.”
“Listentoyouwiththegoodquestions.”Michaelsoundedlikehewaslaughingandbouncingthebasketball.“Becausethat’scertainlyrelevanttothissituation.”
Notgoingtolie,itwaskindofalarminghowMichaelwassolooseandrelaxedwhileIwaspracticallybleedingout.
Adamsaid,“Ican’thelpitifI’macuriousboy.”
“You’resuchanerd.”Noahsoundedlikehewaskindoflaughingtoo.
“Istillneedananswer,”Adamsaid.
“Ithinkyes.”Myvoicesoundedweirdandmuffledbehindtheshirt.“Therewasaladywhogotherwholefacerippedoffbyamonkey,andshehadafacetransplant.”
“Forreal?”Adamsoundedfascinated.“Herwholeface?”
“I’mprettysure.”Thesmalltalkwasanicedistractionfrommyanxietyoverpotentialnasaldamage.Imean,didn’tpeoplewhogottheirnosesbrokenendupwithmassivebumpsonthem?Wasmynosebroken?
Itriedsquinchingitup,anditfreakingkilled.Shit.
Wes’sfacepoppedintomylineofsight,somethingtolookatbesidesthegymceiling.“Youokay?”
Helookedreallyconcerned,andforsomereasonIfeltcompelledtoreassurehim.Iblindlyreachedforhishandandgaveitasqueeze.“Ithinkit’sfine.Assoonasthebleedingstops,we’llprobablybegood.”
“She’ssomuchtougherthanyou,Bennett,”Adamsaid.
“Noshit.”WesadjustedonesideoftheshirtsoIcouldseealittlebetter,andIfelthisbig,warmhandsqueezearoundmine.“I’dbebawling.”
Michaeladded,“Same.”
“OhmyGod,whathappened?”Anadultappearedinmylineofsight,ablondwomanwithaseverebob,lookingworriedlydownintomyface.“Areyouokay,sweetie?”
IrepeatedwhatI’dsaidtoWes,andshesuggestedItryremovingtheshirt.Shesaidinaknowingvoice,“Ibetmostofthebleedingisdone.”
Asshetookasecondtolecturetheboysonhowtheyshouldn’tbeinthepracticegym,Isteeledmyselfformovingtheshirt.EventhoughIknewitwasreallyimmature,partofmedidn’twantto,becausesurelytherewerebloodsmearsonmyface.Andewwww,right?Ididn’twantMichael—oranyone—toseemelikethat.
ButItookabreathandloweredWes’sshirt,glancingupateveryone.
And…Theexpressionsontheboys’faceswerenotgood.
Michaelcoughedalittleandsaid,“Well,itdoesn’tseemtobebleedinganymore.”
IlookedatWes.Hewasperpetuallytactless,andIknewhe’dbehonestwithme.“What’swrong?”
Istaredathim,waiting.Hewasshirtless,havingdonatedhisshirttomybloodynose,andIgotmomentarilydistractedbythesightofhischest.Imean,Iwasn’tusuallyonetoogleanyone’sphysique,butmyneighborwaswickeddefined.
“Don’ttakethisthewrongway,”Adamsaid,answeringbeforeWesandyankingmeoutofmypectoralrevelry,“butyournoselookskindoflike…Mrs.PotatoHead’snose.”
“Holyshit,that’sit!”Noahnoddedemphatically.“Nottherest,butforsurethenose.”
Michaeldidn’tevenhidehislaugh,butitwasatleastawarm,friendlylaugh.“Itdoesresembleapotatonose.Andit’sbleedingagain.”
Hewasright—Ifeltawarmtrickleonmyupperlip.“OhmyGod!”Ire-coveredmynose.
“No,itdoesn’t;don’tlistentothem.”Wesliftedmychininhisthumbandforefinger,andhiseyesdroppeddowntomycoverednose.“Yournoseisjustatinybitswollen.”
Noahmuttered,“Tinybit?”atthesametimetheladysaid,“YoushouldprobablygototheER,dear.Justtomakesureitisn’tbroken.”
TheER,really?WhataboutmyLaney-freeridehomewithMichael?Isaid,“Um—”
ButWesinterruptedwith,“Nope,noobjections.I’mtakingyoutotheER,andyoucancallyourparentsontheway.Cool?”
Adamsaid,“Dude,youdidn’tdrive.Andquitbeingsobossytothemissus.”
MynosewasthrobbingbutIcouldn’tstopthesmile.Wes’sfriendswereridiculous.“Idon’tneedyoutotakemetothehospital.I’llcallmydad.”
“ButHelenasaidsheandyourdadwouldbeatthemovies.”Weslookedworried,whichmademefeelalittlewarmandfuzzy.WhichmeantIprobablyhadaconcussion.Helookedupsomethingonhisphoneandsaid,“Thehospitalisliterallyrightdownthestreet.”
“Ohyeah.”HewasrightaboutmydadandHelena,andprobablyaboutthehospital,too.
“I’msuretheycanmeetusthereifyoucallthem.”Wesgavemehishandtohelpmeup.“Thinkyoucanstand?”
“Ofcourse.”Ilethimpullmetomyfeet.
“Youbettershirtup,man.”Adammadeaface.“Youlooklikeapervinjustjeans,likeanunderagestripper.”
IpressedtheshirttighteragainstmyfaceasWesgrabbedhisjacketfromthefloorandputitonoverhisbarechest.Mycheekswereonfire—IfeltlikeIwaswatchingsomethingdirty—andIshakilymanagedtosay,“Let’sgo,youpervert.”
Butasweexitedthegym,itoccurredtomethatWeshaddonatedhisclothestometwicenow.EitherIwasonahidden-camerashowandWeswasprankingme,orhewasseriouslythenicestguy.
“Hairhero.OhmyGod,Idon’tevenhavewords.”Wes’sfacewasseriousashewalkedwithmedownthestepsonthesideoftheschool,buttherewasthatmischievoustwinkleinhiseye,theonethatneverwentaway.“Youthinkyou’reprettyfunny,don’tyou?”
“Imean,yeah,IthinkI’mafairlyamusingperson.”IgrabbedthemetalrailingandwonderedhowI’dendedupalonewithWesattheendofthisnight,insteadofmakingmagicwithMichael.IwasalittlesurprisedthatIdidn’tfeelmoredisappointed,butperhapsthatwasjustmybody’sdefensemechanismtokeepmefromdyingofembarrassment.
“WhatifMichaeltellseveryonethathe’smyhairhero?”
IthurttosmilebutIdiditanyway.Weswasactinglikemynosehadn’tjustexplodedinfrontofmyforevercrush,andIlovedhimforit.Hewaspickinguprightwhereourconvowould’veheadedifnotformyaccident.“Hewon’t.”
“BecauseIcoulddosomuchbetter.”Hestartednamingpeopleaswewalkeddownthedarksidewalk.“Like,ToddSimon—thatguy’sgotsomegoodhair.AndBartonBrown—youcouldgetlostinBarton’sshinymane.Thoseguysareworthyofhairheroism.Thoseguysareworthyoffollicleadoration.ButMichaelYoung?Puh-leeze.”
“YoucouldnevergetBartonBrown;berealistic.”
“IsocouldgetBarton.He’dprobablyloseitifIaskedhimtobemyhairhero.”
“Youwouldneveraskhim,Wes,andyouknowit.He’sinanotherhairleague.”
“Whyareyouhurtingmelikethis?”
“Sorry.”Itriednottostareaswewalkedunderastreetlight,butIrealizedasIlookedathimthathisfacewasalwaysfun.Healmostneverlookedpissedorlikeanasshole,andIcouldn’timaginehimbeinglegitimatelyangry.“IguessI’mprojecting.”
Heglancedoveratmeandgavemeaclosed-mouthpity-frown.“Howisthehonkerfeeling?”
“Itdoesn’treallyhurtnow.ExceptwhenItouchit.”
“Sodon’ttouchit.”
“Really?”
Heshruggedandputhishandsinhisjacketpockets.“Seemslogical.”
Iwasgettingsickofholdingthatshirtovermynose.Ipulledoutmyphoneandflippedthecameratomakeamirror,thenstoppedwalkingandslowlyremovedtheshirtfrommyface.“OhmyGod,IamMrs.PotatoHead.”
Thebridgeofmynosewassoswollenthattheentirethinglookedwide.Itwaslikemynoseblendedinwiththerestofmyface.
Thegoodnews:whenItiltedmyheadback,itdidn’tlooklikeanymorebloodwaswaitingtofall.
Thiswholethingwasjustgross.
“I’vebrokenmynosetwice,andit’llhealfast.”HeputhisfingeronmyphonescreenandunflippedthecamerasoIcouldnolongerseemyself.“Youmightlooklikeachild’stoyforaday,butafterthatyou’llbarelybeabletotell.”
Iglancedathisprofileinthedarkanddidn’tseeanybumpsorknotsinhisnose.ButIsaid,“Define‘barely.’?”
Heignoredmeandsaid,“Callyourdad.”
“Ohyeah.”Iexitedthecameraandwentintotheactualphone.“Thanks.”
IcalledmyfatherasWesstoodbesidemeonthesidewalk,scrollingonhisphone,andafterItoldmydadwhat’dhappenedandthenretoldHelena,theysaidtheywereheadedtowardthehospitalandthey’dfinduswhentheygotthere.
“Bytheway,thanksalot.”Iputmyphoneintomypocketandloopedthedisgustingshirtoverthestrapofmybag,andwestartedwalkingagain.WitheverystepItriedtofigureoutwhatwasupwithWes’ssudden-onsetniceness.Theguywasapparentlyall-inongettingthatparkingspot.“Youdidn’thavetoescortme.”
Henudgedmyshoulderwithhisandteased,“Myluck,you’dbleedtodeathandthenmyguiltwouldn’tallowmetoenjoytheForeverSpot.”
“Wait—you’dstilltakeit,evenafterhavingahandinmyuntimelydemise?”
Iattemptedtogivehimaplayfulpunch,buthecaughtmyfistinhishugehand.HegrinnedatthelittlenoiseImadeandletgo.
“Well,it’srightthere,Buxbaum—howcouldInot?”
Westoppedataredlightwhenwereachedthecorner,andheturnedandlookedatme.Wewerequietforamoment,oursmilesslowlysimmering,andthenheaskedinhisdeep-and-gravellyvoice,“SowereyoumakinganyheadwaywithYoungbeforeyougotbashed?”
Idon’tknowwhy,butIwashesitanttotellhimforasecond.We’dbeenhavingfunandIdidn’twanttogetserious.ButthenIremindedmyselfthatitwasmylet’s-get-Michaelteammate,Wes.Whywouldn’tItellhim?“Youknow,IthinkIwas.Hewasbeingalittleflirtybeforeyouwalkedovertothesmallcourt,andhephysicallymovedmyarmtohelpmeshootbetter.”
“SweetLord,hetouchedyou?”Hiseyeswidenedlikethiswasareallybigdeal.
“Hedid.”Iproudlyraisedmychin.
“Like,howdidhedoit?Wasitcoachyandclinical,or…?”
“Itwaslikethis.”Ireachedoverandmovedhiselbowsfromtheirpositionathissidestoafewincheshigherintheair.“Onlymaybelighterandmorefingertippy.”
“Holyshit,Liz.”Hegavehisheadalittleshakeandhismouthwaswideopen.“That’shuge.”
Mylipsslidallthewayupintothebeamingestgeeksmileever,eventhoughitsentajoltofpainthroughmynose.“Itis?”
“OhmyGod,no.Itisn’t.”Wesputhishandsinhispocketsandgesturedformetowalk,asthelighthadturnedgreen.“Thatwassarcasm.Ithoughtyouknewthatuntilyousaid‘fingertippy.’?”
“Oh.”Iclearedmythroatandsaid,“Well,itfeltlikesomething.”
“Likesomethingfingertippy?”
AshemockedmywordsandmyMichaelobsession,ithitmethateverythingwasallwrong.Weswastheonewalkingmetothehospital,anditwasWes’sshirtthat’dstaunchedtheflowofbloodfrommyface.
Wasn’titsupposedtobeMichael?
Heglancedoveragain,hisexpressionunreadableaswewalkeduptotheentranceoftheER.Justbeforethedoorsopened,hesaid,“Youdon’tseriouslythinkhisfingertippinesswasathing,doyou?”
“HowshouldIknow?”IshiveredinthecoldandwonderedwhyWesallofasuddenseemedalittlecynical.“Itcould’vebeen.”
Heletoutanoisethatwasacrossbetweenanexhalationandagroan.“Howareyousobadatreadingsignals?”
“Wha—”
“Liz.”Mydadsteppedoutthroughthehospitaldoorsandrushedatme,hisfaceharshwithworry.“Wewereliterallyatthetheateracrossthestreet.How’sthenose?”
Wewentthroughthedoors,andHelena,waitingbesidethecheck-indesk,glancedatWesandgavemeafunnysmile.Whichimmediatelystressedmeoutontopofeverything.ThelastthingIwantedwasmydadtobeloopedintothefalsenarrativeofmeandWesbeingathing.
Weswasnicetothemanddidthesmall-talkthingforafew,buthedidn’treallyevenlookatmetherestofthetime.Whenheleft,hesaid,“Later,Buxbaum,”andjustkindofthrewhisarmupinawavebeforedisappearing.
Iwasn’tsurewhattothink.Hecouldn’tbemadatme,couldhe?Whytheweirdness?Wasitallinmyhead?
ItextedJossaboutmynose(leavingoutanyMichaelreferences,ofcourse)whilewewaitedforthedoctor,becauseIknewshe’dappreciatetheridiculousstory.Herresponse:
Joss:WesBennetttookyoutothehospital??
Me:Yeah,buthewasmyridesoitwasnobigdeal.
Itfeltgoodtotextheraboutmynose,probablybecauseitwassafeterritory.Ithadnothingtodowithsenioryear—herobsession—andnothingtodowithmyMichaelscheme.
Joss:SO??OMG!MethinksMr.Bennetthasacrush…
Somuchforsafe.Iknewitwasweird,butasIsatthereonthepaper-coveredexamtable,Imissedmybestfriendpre–senioryear.Imissedbeingsillyandobnoxiousand100percentmyselfwithouthavingtododgeunwelcomeemotionalconversations.
Me:Shutup—Ihavetogo.
Joss:WillMondayworkfordressshoppingsincethere’snoschool?
See?Imissedbeingabletotextmorethanonesentencebeforestressandconflictcameintoourconversations.Ifeltlikethetotalworst,butitdidn’tstopmefromtexting:
Me:IthinkIhavetowork—SERIOUSLY—don’tbemad.
Joss:Shutup—Ihavetogo,loser.
Ugh.Ireallyneededtodotheshoppingthingbeforeherfeelingsgothurt.Josswasastrongpersonwithalotofopinions,butunderneathherstubbornnessshewassweetandextremelysentimental.
Whichwaswhyweusuallygotalongsowell—webothwere.
Thedoctorfinallycamein,andafterpokingandproddingmytenderbeak,shedetermineditwasn’tbroken.Shesaiditwouldlooknormalinadayortwo,soIonlyhadtoPotato-Headitforacoupledays.Bythetimewegothome,itwaselevenandIwasexhausted.Ishoweredandcrawledundermycovers,andwasalmostasleepwhenmyphonebuzzed.
Irolledoverandlookedatthescreen.ItwasatextfromanumberIdidn’tknow.
Unknown:Hey,Liz—it’sMichael.Justwantedtocheckonyou.
“OhmyGod.”Ifumbledformyglassesandturnedonmylamp.OhmyGod!Istaredatthephone.MichaelYoungwastextingtoseeifIwasokay.Holyshit.Itookashakybreathandtriedtothinkofaresponsethatdidn’tmakemesoundlikeadweeb.
Me:Well,myMrs.PotatoHeadnoseisn’tbrokensoit’sallgood.
Him:Hahagladtohearit.Westoldmeyourefusedallpainmedsatthehospitalbecauseyou’reabadass,soIfiguredthatwasthecase.
Notetoself:thankWesforthatone.Ismiledandrolledoverontomystomach.ItwaslikeIcouldhearhisrich,drawlingvoicespeakinghistextsaloud.ItmademefeellikerollingonthebedandkickingmyfeetlikewhenJuliaRobertsfreakedoverthreethousanddollarsinPrettyWoman
Me:He’srightaboutmybadassery,bytheway.
Him:Um,Iseemtorememberagirlwhocriedwhenshegotwet.
Irolledmyeyesandwishedhecouldforgetthatlittlegirl.
Me:ThatgirlwasleftbehindaLONGtimeago.TrustmewhenItellyouthatyoudon’twanttomesswiththenewLiz.
Him:Isthatso?
OhGod—washeflirting?WasMichaelYoungactuallyflirtingwithme?IwasbeaminglikethenerdI’dalwaysbeen,asItyped,Thatismostdefinitelyso.
Him:Well,IguessImightjusthavetogettoknowthisnewLiz.
Idied.Idon’tknowhowImanagedtotextfrombeyondthegrave,butIwascool.
Me:Iguessyoumighthaveto.Ifyouthinkyou’vegotthecoconutsforit.
Him:What?
Aw,geez.Whatwashewhatting?Thecoconuts?Iwassuchanawkwardtexter.
Me:Imeantthatyoumighthaveto,ifyouthinkyou’reupforit.
Him:Gotit.
Ididn’twanttoruinthechancetohaveatextconversationwithMichael,butonceagainIwasdrawingatotalblankonwhattotalkabout.School,basketball,nose…hmm.
Me:Sowhatareyoudoingrightnow?
Him:Textingyou.
Well,thatwasn’tmuchofahelp.
Me:Soundsexciting.
Him:Whatdoes?
Wasthisforreal?WasIreallythisawfulattextualchitter-chatter?Shit.
Me:Nothing.Onarandomsidenote,I’mstarving.Sendfood.SOS.
Him:Ihavetogogetmypizzaoutoftheovenbecausethesmokealarmisabouttogooffandwakemyparents,butputmeinyourcontacts.I’lltextyousometime.
Iwasgoingtopassout.
Me:Yougotit.
Him:Night,Liz.
Islowlysetdownthephoneonmynightstand.Um…IwasprettysureIwasexcited.Butwhatdiditmean?WasIbackinthegame?Iwasn’tsure,buthe’dcaredenoughtogetmynumber—IwasguessingfromWes—andtopersonallytextandseehowIwasfeeling.
Soeventhoughit’dbeenawkward,itwasstillagoodsign,right?
ThelovethemeI’dwrittenwhenIwassevensuddenlycamebacktomefullblast.LizandMike,loveandlike,togetherforeverinallkindsofweather.
AfterIcamedownfrommyemotionalroller-coastering,Igottiredagainandmynosestartedthrobbing.
AndIstartedworrying.
BecauseIhadnoideawhat’dhappenedwithWesatthehospital.Oneminutewe’dbeenwalkingthere,doingourusualschtick,andthenextithadseemedlikehewasmad.
AndIhatedthethoughtofhimbeingmadatme,especiallyafterhe’dbeensonicesincethemomenthe’dpickedmeupthatnight.
Igrabbedmyphonefromthenightstandanddialedhisnumber,unaccountablynervousasIhearditring.Ithoughtitwasgoingtovoicemailwhenhepickeduponthefifthring.
“Hey,LibbyLoo.”Wessoundedtired,orlikehehadn’tusedhisvoiceinawhile.Ithadthatgravellythinggoingon.“What’sup?”
Ipulledmycoversupundermyarmpitsandranmyfingeroverthestitchingonmycomforter.“DidIdosomethingtopissyouoffatthehospital?”
“What?”Iheardhimclearhisthroatbeforehesaid,“No.”
“Becauseyouseemed…um,terse…?Whenyouleft?”Isoundedlikeanervousmiddleschooler,andIrolledoverontomyside.“I’mjustsorryifIsaidsomethingtoupsetyou.”
“Wow.”Icouldhearthesmileinhisvoice.“Ihadnoideayoucaredsomuchaboutmakingmehappy.”
“Okay,stopthat.”Ilaughed—whichhurtmynose—andIsaid,“Ijustwantedtomakesurewe’recool.”
“We’recool,Lib.”Hisvoicewasdeepashesaid,“Ipromise.”
Irolledoverontomyotherside,tryingtogetcomfortable.“DidyougiveMichaelmynumber,bytheway?”
“Yeah,Idid.Hewantedtocheckonyou.”
“Andhedid!”Iwassmilingagainandsquealingalittle.“HetextedmetoseehowIwasdoing.”
“And?How’sthehonker?”
“It’sokay.”Irolledontomybackandlookedupatmyceilingfan.“Sore,butI’lllive.Istilllooklikeafreak,butthedoctorsaidtheswellingwillgodownsoon.”
“That’sgood.”Wesclearedhisthroatandsaid,“IfItellyousomething,youhavetopromisenottoaskmemorethanthreequestions.”
OhGod.WhatcouldhepossiblywanttosaythatIwasn’tallowedtogivehimthethirddegreeabout?“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”
Hesighed,andIcouldhearaTVinthebackground.“Justpromise,Buxbaum,andIswearyou’llfallasleepsmiling.”
Ididn’tknowwhy,butsomethingaboutWessayingthosewordsmademystomachdip.Iswallowed.“Okay,Ipromise.”
“Okay.Sowhenwewereplayingbasketballearlier,Michaelmentionedyourlook.”
“Whatdidhesay?”IkindofshouteditasIsatstraightupinbed.“Whatdidhesay?”
“Idon’trememberhisexactwords—”
“Comeon,Wes,you’vegotonejobandit’s—”
“—butheessentiallysaidthathecouldseewhyyou’resopopular.”
OhmyGod.IglancedatFitz,whowascurledupinthecornerontopofacrumpledBarnesandNobleshoppingbag,andIhopeditwasn’tallaboutmylook.“Whatdidhesay,exactly?”
“IalreadytoldyouthatIdon’trememberhisexactwords,goofball.Butthegeneralsentimentwasthathegetsit.You’renolongerLittleLiz.”
“Oh.”Ifloppedbackdownontomyback,conflicted.Atinypartofmewasuncomfortablewiththat.Like,beforeIstraightenedmyhairandputonacookie-cutteroutfit,hecouldn’tunderstandhowWescouldbeinterestedinme?WhenIlookedthewayIlikedlooking,itwasinconceivabletohimthatWeswouldfindmeattractive?Thatkindofstung.
IpicturedMichaelandtoldmyselfnottogethunguponit.Thebottomlinewasthathehadnoticedme.“Didhesayitcute,like,‘Ooh,dude,Itotallygetitnow,’orwasitmorematter-of-fact?”
“Wewereplayingbasketball.Hewaspantingandgrunting.”
“You’reterribleatthis.”
“No,you’rejustaweirdo.”
“Whydidn’tyoutellmeaboutthisearlier?”Iglancedtowardmywindow,whereallIcouldseeinthedarknesswasthesideofhishouse.ItwasalittlesurrealthatIwastalkingtoWeslikehewasafriend,whenhe’dalwaysbeenmyneighborhoodnemesis.“Therewasplentyoftimewhenyouwerewalkingwithmetothehospital.”
“IwasdistractedbyyourPotatoHeadfaceandtheconcernthatyouweregoingtopassoutfromlackofblood.”Heclearedhisthroat.“Assoonastheimageofyourginormo-noseleftmymind,Irememberedtotellyou.”
Itriedtopicturehimontheotherendofthephone.Washestillfullydressed,orwashewearingadorablepajamasandsnugglingwithhisdog?“Where’syourroom?”
“What?”
Isatupinbedandcrossedmylegs.“Totalrandomcuriosity.Yourhouseisoutsidemywindow,andIjustrealizedthatI’veneverbeenupstairs,soIhavenoideawhatsideyourroomison.”
“Putthebinocularsawaybecausemyroomfacestheback.You’vegotnoshotofapeepshow.”
“Yeah,becausethatwaswhatIwanted.”Mymindinstantlyconjuredtheimageofhishalf-nakedbodyinthepracticegym.Whenhe’dtakenoffhisshirtandI’dnearlyswallowedmytongue.Youknow,whilealsobleedingout.
“AndI’mnotinmyroom.I’minthelivingroom,watchingTV.”
Igotupandwalkedovertomywindow.Mybedroomwastheonlyonewithawindowonthesideofthehouse,andwhenIlookeddown,Icouldseethelightglowingouttheirlivingroomwindow.
“Icanseeyourlight.”
“Suchacreeper.”
Thatmademesmile.“What’reyouwatching?”
“Ithinktheproperlineis‘Whatareyouwearing?’?”
Icouldn’tstopsmiling—thatwassoincrediblyWes.Itwasweirdhowtalkingtohimwassoeasy—wayeasierthantextingwithMichael.Iwasn’tsureifitwasbecauseIknewWesbetter,orperhapsitwasbecauseWesknewmebetter.HeknewIwasn’tcool—he’dalwaysknownthat—somaybethatwaswhyitfeltsorelaxed.
Ididn’thavetotry.
Isaid,“MaybeifIcareditwouldbe,butI’mactuallycuriousaboutwhatyou’rewatching.”
“Guess.”
Icrossedmyarmsandleanedagainstthewall,lookingoutatthesideofhishousewheretherewerefloweringbushesmovinginthebreezeunderhislitlivingroomwindow.“Probablyagameofsomesort.Basketball?”
“Wrong.”
“Okay.IsitamovieoraTVshow?”
“Movie.”
“Hmm.”Igrabbedmybeanbagandsliditinfrontofthewindow.IfeltlikeIneededtobelookingathishouse.Iploppeddownandasked,“So,Ineedtoknow.Didyouselectit,ordidyoujusthappentostopbywhenremote-flipping?”
“Remotestop-by.”
“Hm.Thatcomplicatesthings.”Mr.FitzpervertjumpedontomylapandputhisfrontpawsonmychestsoIwouldscratchhishead.IapprovedofthepaisleybowtiethatHelenamusthaveselectedforhim,sinceI’dlefthimtielesswhenIwasinahurrythatmorning.“Um…GoneGirl?”
“Nope.Butdecentguess.IthoughtEmilyRatajkowskiwasbrilliantinthatflick.HerscenewithAffleckisstillembeddedinmybrain.”
“You’redisgusting.”
Therewaslaughterinhisvoiceashesaid,“I’mjustmessingbecauseIknewyou’dknowwhatImeant.MylittleLibbyisjustsoeasytogetriledup.”
Iignoredhiscomment,theincorrigibleboy.“Well,thebookwasamazing,evenwithoutMissRatajkowski’sassets.”
“Agreed.”
“Okay.”ItriedthinkingaboutwhatwouldmakeWesstopandwatch.“Um,maybeTheHangover?”
“Nope.”
“AmericanPie?”
“Notevenclose.”
“Inwhatera,”Istarted,wonderingifmaybeIhadhimpeggedtotallywrong,“didthiscinematicmasterpiececomeout?”
“Ifeellikeyou’reassumingthatIonlylikeboobmovies.”
“Um.”Hisassumptionaboutmyassumptionwascorrect,butnowIwashavingdoubts.ThemoreIknewaboutWes,themoreheprovedmypreconceivednotionswrong.“Yeah,that’sprettymuchit.”
“I’mwatchingMissCongeniality.”
“What?”Ialmostdroppedthephone.“But,Bennett.That’sarom-com.”
“Yup.”
“So…?”
“So,Istoppedbecauseitlookedfunny.”
“And…?”
“Anditis.”
“Ilovethatmovie.Whatchannel?”
“Thirty-three.Wait—yourparentsstillhavecabletoo?”
“Yes.Mydadisafraidtocutthecordbecauseheisn’tsureifhe’llgetallthegoodboxingmatchesifweswitchtostreaming.”IflippedonmyTVandturnedittothemovie.Itwasthebeginning,whereSandraBullock’scharacterwaseatingsteakwithMichaelCaineatarestaurant.“Thethoughtoflosingthemterrifiestheman.”
“It’ssoccerformydad.He’sconvincedthatallyoucanwatchonHuluaremoviesandNBCshows.”
Thatmademesmile.Wes’sdadwasasuper-nerdycollegeprofessorwhoIneverwould’vepeggedasafanofanythingathletic.“Doyouthinkwe’llbetechnology-challengedwhenwe’reoldtoo?”
“Oh,forsure.You’llprobablybeoneofthoseoldpeoplewhodoesn’tevenhaveaTV.Everydaywillbethesame.You’llplaythepiano,drinktea,andlistentorecordsforhours,thentakethebustothemovietheater.”
“Youmakeagingsoundincredible.Iwantthatlifenow.”
“Sodoyousingwhenyouplay?”
“What?”
“I’vealwayswondered.Whenyouplaythepiano,doyousing?”
He’d“always”wondered?Didthatmeanhe’dthoughtofitoften?WhenwewerekidsandIpracticedwiththewindowsopen,heusedtohowllikehewasadoganditwashurtinghisears.IguessIhadn’trealizedheknewIstillplayed.
Ihadn’theardhimhowlinalotofyears.
“ItdependswhatI’mplaying.”Itseemedincrediblypersonal,sharingthiswithhim,butitalsodidn’tfeelwrong.ProbablybecauseI’dknownhimsolong.Iglancedoveratthepianobooksittingonmydesk.“Idon’treallysingwhenI’mdoingscalesorwarm-ups,andIdefinitelydon’tsingifI’mplayingsomethingsuperchallenging.ButwhenIplayforfun,lookout.”
Hesaidaroundalaugh,“Gimmeasongthatmakesyoubelt.”
“Umm…”Igiggled.Icouldn’thelpit.Sharingprivatethingsaboutmyselfwhilesittinginthedarkmademefeel…something.Somekindofway.
MaybeIwasjustfeelingintrospective,because—outofnowhere—Irealizedthatmylifeforthepastfewdayshadfeltdifferent.Iwassuddenlylivingthisstereotypeofahighschoollife.I’dgonetoaboozeparty,andthefollowingnightI’dloadedintoacarwithabunchofpeopletowatchahighschoolsportsgame.
Andmyloveinteresthadtextedme.
Notonlythat,butIwastalkingonthephonetotheboynextdoorasifitwasathing.
Thosethingswerenormal,butnotforme.
Anditwasfun.Allofit.Evenwiththevomitandthebloodynose.AnditkindofmademewonderifI’dbeenmissingout.Mostofthetime,Ipreferredstayinghomeandwatchingmovies.Thatwasmyhappyplace.Josshadhersoftballfriendsthatshewentoutwith,andeventhoughshealwaysinvitedme,Ialwayschosetostayhomewithmyrom-coms.
ButnowIwasquestioningthatdecision.
Wesjerkedmebackoutofmyhead.“?‘Umm’isnotananswer,dipshit.”
“Iknow,Iknow,Iknow.”Ilaughedandadmitted,“IactuallyprettymuchturnintoAdelewhenIplay‘SomeoneLikeYou.’?”
“Youdonot.”Hewasfull-onlaughingnow.“Forreal?That’sabig-voicesong.”
“Don’tIknowit.”Ipulledtheblanketfrommybed,liftedFitzfrommylap,andwrappedusbothupinit.“Butwhennoone’shome,itfeelsamazingtototallyshatterglasswithmypipes.”
“Iwouldpaymoneytohearthat.”
Fitzgavemeadeep-throatedgrowlingmeowandranupmybody,jumpedoffmyshoulder,andescapedfrommyroom.Isaid,“You’llneverhaveenough.”
Hemadeacomment,butIdidn’thearwhatitwasbecauseIgotdistractedbythefactthathislivingroomlightwentout.Washestillinthatroom?Washegettingcomfyonthecouch?Hedidn’tsoundlikehewaswalking.“Howcomeyouturnedoffthelight?”
Myhandwenttomymouthoutofhabit—thatwasanosyquestiontobeembarrassedabout—butthenIremembereditwasjustWes.Icouldsaytheseunfilteredthingstohimbecausehedidn’tcare.WesBennettknewwhatamessIwasunderneathitall,andtherewasalittlebitofjoyinknowinghesawtherealme.
Freedom.
IwouldneveraskMichaelwhyhe’dturnedoffhislight(ifhelivednextdoor).Thatwouldbeatotalcreepermove.
“Iknewyouwerestaringinmywindows,Buxbaum.”Wesdidadeepchucklethingthatmademelaughtoo.“Ineverwould’veguessedsomeonesouptightwouldbesuchapervert.”
Istaredoutathisdarkwindow.“I’mnotthatuptight,fortherecord.”
“Iwillsaythatyou’vebeenprettycoolaboutthedisastersthathavebefallenyousinceyoustartedhuntingMichael.”
“Um…thanks?AndI’mnot‘hunting’him.I’mjusttryingto…”
Iblinked—whatexactlywasItryingtodo?Michaelwasit—theguy.JustlikeinthebookwewerereadinginLit—TheGreatGatsby—hewasthegreenlightacrossthebay,thesymbolofthedream,thecohesive-thread-come-full-circleloveinterestthatmymomhadwrittenintoallofherscripts.IguessIwastryingtoputthehappyendingonmyscript,sotospeak.Isaid,“Ijustneedtoknowthathappilyeverafterreallyexists.”
Hewasquietforaminute,andthenhesaid,“Ithinkyourcatisoutinmyyard.”
Iwasgratefulforthechangeofsubject.“Itisn’tFitz.Henevergoesoutside.”
“Smartcat—mydogwouldprobablyusehimasachewtoy.”
“AsifFitzpervertwouldlethim.”Ilookedbackoutthewindowandtriedtoseeacat,butallIcouldseewasadarkyardandthewhiteflowersonmymother’sbushes.“Sowhereareyou?Didyougotobed,orareyousittinginthedarklikeacompletePatrickBateman?”
“OhmyGod,you’resoobsess—”
“Willyoujustshutupandtellme?”Iwaslaughing—hard—anditmademynosethrobalittle.“Ineedtogotobed.”
“Andyoucan’tsleepuntilyouknowwhereIam.Iseeyou.”
“Sodelusional.Justforgetit.”
Myfaceliterallyhurtfromsmiling,andoutofnowhereIwonderedwhatthingsweregoingtobelikewithmeandWeswhenourdealwasover.Wouldhegobacktoonlythinkingofmeashisweirdneighbor,onlynoticingmewhenhefeltlikemessingwithme?Wouldwereturntojustbeingclassmateswhodidn’tparticularlylikeeachother?
Thethoughtofthatmademystomachgetalittleheavy.
Ididn’tlikeit.
Helaughedandthelightsflashedinhislivingroom.On-off,on-off.“I’mstillhere,Liz.Justmessingwithyou.”
“Okay,well,goodni—”
“Yourturn.”
“Huh?”
“Flashyourlights.It’smyturntoknowwhereyouare.”
Fairwasfair.Ileanedoverandflickedonmydesklamp,wonderingifhewasgoingtowalkovertothewindowinordertobeabletoseeuptomyroom.
“Sothat’syourroom,huh?”
Apparentlyyes.“Itis.”
Couldheseeme?Ididn’tthinkso—mybeanbagwasprettylow—butIstillfeltexposed.
“Wow.”Heletoutalowwhistle.“Notgonnalie,there’ssomethingaboutknowingthatthatiswhereMrs.PotatoHeadsleeps.Imean,damn,youknow?”
Ileanedforwardandwavedintothedarkness.“Damn,indeed.Goodnight,dipshit.”
Hegavemeadeep,rumblychucklebutdidn’tsayanythingaboutthewave.“Goodnight,Elizabeth.”
Insteadofgoingbacktobed,Iwentovertomydresserandgrabbedthepinkphotoalbum.Talkingabouthappyendingsandstaringoutatmymom’sfavoritebusheshadgivenmethemom-feels.
Although,latelyeverythinghadbeengivingmethose.
Ispentthenexthourlookingatpicturesofmymother;herweddingphotos,shotsofherholdingmewhenIwasababy,andthefunnysurprisetakesmydadlikedtosnapwhenshehadn’tbeenexpectingthem.
WhenIgottothephotosfromoneoftheneighborhoodpicnics,Isquintedandsmiledatthegroupshot.Mymomhadbeendressedinapaisleysundressandpearls,whileeveryoneelselookedlikeshoelesssummerslobs.Soon-brandforher,right?
Myeyesscannedtothefrontrow,wherewekiddos—probablyagesevenatthetime—lookedeerilysimilartoourcurrentselves.Notinappearance,butinexpression.Thetwinswerelookingawayfromthecamerawiththeirmouthswideopen,clearlyuptosomething.Michaelwassmilinglikeaperfectlittlemodel,andIwasbeamingathiminsteadoflookingatthephotographer.Josswasmakinganadorablelittlesmirk,andWes—ofcourse—hadhistongueallthewayout.
Somethingaboutthatphotoalbummademefeelgoodaboutthepresent,butIwasgettingtootiredtoanalyzeit.AlsomyPotatoHeadnosewasaching.Iputawaythepictures,shutoffthelight,pluggedmyphonein,andwentbacktobed.ButjustbeforeIfellasleep,Igotonemoremessage.
Wes:Makesureyouadd“SomeoneLikeYou”totheWesandLizplaylist.CHAPTERSEVEN
“I’dratherfightwithyouthanmakelovewithanyoneelse.”
—TheWeddingDate
“Goodmorning,sunshine.”
IgruntedandwentstraightfortheKeurig.Iadoredmyfather,butthesightofhisbright-eyed,smilingfacepeekingoutfrombehindthenewspaperatthebreakfasttablewasjustalittletoomuch.Myeyesdidn’twanttobeopen,andIdefinitelydidn’twanttoengageinchippermorningconversationafterbeingupallnightwithathrobbingnose.
“How’sthehonker?”
Ismiled—that’swhatWeshadcalledit—andhitthebuttonthatmadethewaterwarm.“Sore,butI’llsurvive.”
“Youworktoday?”
“Yup—I’mtheluckyopener.”
Heclosedthepaperandstartedfoldingit.“DidyoufilloutthedormpaperworkIsenttoyouremail?”
Crap.“Iforgot.I’lldoittoday.”
“Youhavetostopputtingitoff.Ifyou’reoldenoughtogotocollegeontheothersideofthecountry,you’reoldenoughtofilloutafewforms.”
Isighed.“Gotit.”
FilethatunderAnotherThingLizWasAvoiding.IwasdyingtogoawaytoschoolandgetstartedatUCLA.Iwasevenlookingforwardtotheactualstudies.Classesonmusiccurationwouldn’tseemlikework,wouldthey?ButeverytimeIthoughtoflivingthere,IgotthishugeballofdreadinmystomachthathadnothingtodowithCaliforniaandeverythingtodowithleavingtheonlyplaceI’deverlivedwithmymother.
AndthefewtimesI’dallowedmyselftoconsidertherealitythatIwouldnolongerbeabletojusttossonmyrunningshoesandseeheratthecemetery,myvisioninstantlyblurredwithtearsandmythroatfeltlikeitwasclosing.
So,yeah.Ihadsomeissuestoresolvethere.
Hegavemeadadlook.“Quitprocrastinating.Theearlybirdgetsthebetterdormroom,LittleLiz.”
“Hey.Speakingofthat.”Iputthepodintothemachineandclosedthetop.“WasIanicelittleweirdowhenIwasakid?”
Hecockedaneyebrow.“Comeagain?”
Ihitthebutton,andtheKeurigstartedwhirring.“Wessaidthatbackintheday,Iwasanicelittleweirdo,andIjustdon’trememberitthatway.Isheright?”
Mydad’sfacesplitintoawidesmile.“Youdon’trememberitthatway?”
“Notatall.”Istaredatthecoffeeasitspatintomycup.“Imean,Imaybewasn’tsupercool,but—”
“Youweredefinitelyastrangelittlekid.”
“What?”Ilookedathisgrinandwastornbetweenlaughingandbeingannoyed.“Iwasnot.”
“Youmadeourdeckintoaweddingchapelwhenyouwereseven—rememberthat?Youspentdayssettingitupwithstolenflowersfromyourmom’sgardenandwhitesheets.YoutiedastringofemptycorncanstoFitz’scollar.”
“So?That’ssomeimpressivecreativityrightthere.”
HegavealittlelaughasIjoinedhimatthetable.“That’sright—thatpartwascute.Thepartthatwasweirdwaswhenyoutalkedthatkidwhousedtoliveonthecorner—Connersomething—intopretendingtomarryyou.Heletyoubosshimarounduntilyoutoldhimthatitwaslegalandhewasmarriedtoyouforever.Thenhetriedgoinghome,butyoutackledhimtothegroundandsaidhecouldn’tleaveuntilhecarriedyouoverthe‘tressel.’?”
“Areasonableexpectationfromabride.”
“Hecrieduntilwefinallyheardhiswailsthroughthescreendoor,Liz.”
Iblewonmycoffee.“I’mstillwaitingfortheweirdpart.”
“Youbrokeyourblackovalglassesinthescuffleandyoustillwouldn’tlethimup.”
“Heshould’vestayedputlikeagoodhusband.”
HestartedlaughingandsodidI.SomaybeIhadbeenalittleweird.
“Excuseme—doyouworkhere?”
IrolledmyeyesasItriedtofinishshiftingthebottomrowofmiddle-gradefictiontothenextshelfover.I’dmadeitthroughafullmorningofWhathappenedtoyournose?atthecashregister,soI’dswitchedtostockingnewreleasesinhopesofavoidingfurtherhumancontact.
Istoodfrommysquatandturnedaround.
AndalmostswallowedmytonguewhenIsawMichael.“OhmyGod—hey.”
“Hey,Liz.”Hisfacejumpedintoabiggrin.“Ididn’tknowyouworkedhere.”
“Yeah.”Isowantedtocovermyhideousnoseandmaybedisappear.He’dbeentheinstigatorofourtextconversationlastnight,butIfeltweirdabouthowawkwardit’dbeen.
“I’mimpressed.”Hishandsslidintohispocketsandhesaid,“Twojobsandschool?”
“What?”
“Ican’tbelieveyouwaittablesandworkhere,whenIdon’tevenhaveonejobatthemoment.”
Ugh—“The”Diner.Mylieswerereallybecomingdifficulttomanage.“WhatcanIsay?Ilikemoney.”
IfeltmybreathhitchasIlookedathim.Hewaswearingabutton-downplaidshirt—notcasualplaidflannel,mindyou,but,like,aniceshirt.Anditwaspairedwithperfectpantsandleathershoesthatlookedliketheybelongedonafancyboat.Helookedbeautifulandclassy,likesomeonewhocouldsuccessfullywinanargumentwithoutraisinghisvoice.
Ibitdownonmylowerlipandtriednottostareathisperfectface.“IstheresomethingIcanhelpyoufind?”
Hissmileturnedintoaself-deprecating,embarrassedsmirk.“I’mlookingforabook.Itshowedupasavailableonline,butitisn’tinthesection.”
“Whatbook?”
Helookedlikehedidn’twanttotellme.Heputhishandsinhispocketsandsaid,“Okay,don’tlaugh.I’mlookingforTheOtherMissBridgertonbyJuliaQuinn.”
Irolledmylipsinwardandtiltedmyhead,tryingtofigureoutwhatthestorywas.I’dreadthatbook—Imean,I’dreadalloftheBridgertonnovels—buthistoricalromancesweretypicallyreadbywomen.“WhywouldIlaugh?That’sagreatbook.”
Hiseyesnarrowed.“Areyoubeingsarcastic?”
“Notatall.IloveeverythingQuinnhaseverwritten.”
Hismouthloosenedalittleinrelief.“You’rejudgingmeforreadingthembecauseI’maguy,though,aren’tyou?”
Hmmm…let’ssee.Aguywhoreadsromance—really,reallygoodromance?Someonewhodoesn’tcareaboutlabelsandloseshimselfinbooksaboutclever,funnyheroinesandthemenwhoappreciatetheirindividuality?
Nojudgmenthere.Alittlelight-headedsmittenness,perhaps,butnojudgment
Icasuallyrestedmyhandovermyhorriblenoseandsaid,“Absolutelynot.I’mkindofcurioushowyoupickedthemup,butIsincerelythinkthey’reofJaneAustenquality.”
Thatmadehismouthcurlinatease.“Youdon’tthinkthat’smaybeastretch?”
“Trustme,Michael,youdon’twanttodebatethiswithme.I’vegotafour-hourshiftinfrontofmeandanobsessiveloveofromancebooks.Youcan’twinthisone.”
Hegaveachucklethatreachedhiseyes,squintingtheminthewarmestway.“Noted.Andfortherecord,itallstartedwithabet.”
“Asallgoodthingsdo.”Beforethelastwordleftmylips,animageofWes’sfacepoppedintomyhead.AlldaylongI’dbeenreplayingourphonecall,thegravellysleepinessofhisvoiceaswe’dwatchedMissCongenialitytogetherfromtwoseparatehouses.
Michaellaughedagain,andjustlikethatIwasbackinthepresentandwewerebothsmilingallovereachothernexttothesecondhandJudyBlumesection.Hecrossedhisarmsinfrontofhischestandsaid,“AfriendofminechallengedmetoreadTheDukeandIafewyearsago.SheputmoneyontheideathatifIactuallyreadit,Iwouldlikeit.”
Ilovedthatbook.“Andthatwasit?”
“Thatwasit.”Hegavemeasheepishsmileandsaid,“Besides,what’smorefunthanastorythatstartswithafakerelationship?”
Everyfiberofmybeingwantedtolaughmaniacallyatthewordshe’djustspoken,butInoddedandsaid,“Iwholeheartedlyagree.”
“Youdoknowthatyourhandisn’tdoinganythingtocoveryournose,right?Icanstillseeit.”
Irolledmyeyes,whichmadehimgrin.Idroppedmyhandandsaid,“It’sjustsoatrociousthatIcan’thelpbuttrytocoverit,y’know?”
“Igetit,butitdoesn’tlookbadatallcomparedtolastnight.Maybealittleswollen,butthat’sit.”
“Thanks.Youknow,forlyingtome.”Iownedamirror,sohiswordsonlyservedtoconfirmthathewasasniceashe’deverbeen.Andthataccent?Oh,baby.Igesturedforhimtofollowme.Iknewexactlywheretofindthebookhewaslookingfor,anditwasontheothersideofthestore.“Idothinkitisshrinking,eventhoughit’sstillPotatoHead-y.”
“Agreed.”
“Sohowareyourparents?”Iglancedovermyshoulder.“Catchmeup.”
“Well,thefolksaregood,”hestarted,andIwonderedifhisparentswerestillsuperserious.Ihadblurrymemoriesofthickglassesandfrowningmouths.
“Doyoustillhavecats?”I’dlovedthathelikedcatsbetterthandogs.Ithadbeenanotherreasonwhyhealwaysseemedsmarterthantherestoftheneighborhoodkids.“PurrkinsandMr.Squishy?”
“Ican’tbelieveyouremembertheirnames.”Hewasgrinningagain,lookingthekindofhappythatmademewanttoeathisfaceoff.“Squishliveswithmygrandmanow,butPurrkinsstillresideswithus,tormentingusonthedailywithhisshittycatattitude.”
“Hiscattitude.”Istoppedinfrontofthelarge-printsection.“Goodboy.”
MymindwenttoWesthen,becausewhenwe’dtalkedonthephonethenightbefore,he’daskedifmycatwasoutside.It’dtakenforeverformetofallasleeponceIgotintobed,mostlyonaccountoftheincessantsmilingthatIwasdoingasIrecalledourconversation.
Thegrowlysoundofhisvoicewhenheteased,Andyoucan’tsleepuntilyouknowwhereIam.Iseeyou.
Michaelsaid,“SpeakingofWes—”
“What—Iwasn’t,”Iblurted,blinkingfastwhiletryingtofigureoutwhatthehellI’dmissed,andwhatwordshe’dbeensayingasI’dzonedout.
Michaelfrownedashelookedatmestrangelyandsaid,“Ireallythinkyoushouldgivehimashot.”
Wait,what?
Michaelhadalreadydonehiswingmandutybymentioningittomeatthebasketballcourt,right?Sure,theywerefriends,butifhehadanythoughtsaboutmethatwentbeyondfriendship,itseemedlikehewouldn’tbepushingsohard.
Buthehadtextedme,andhehadbeentheplayfulone.Sowhatdiditallmean?Ineededabulletinboardandsomestringatthispoint.AswegottotheQuinnsection,Isaid,“Ashot.Whatconstitutesashot,exactly?”
Hereachedupandpulledthebookfromtheshelf.“Justgettoknowhim.”
“Ialreadyknowhim.”
“Thenowhim,notthehide-and-seekhim.”Heopenedthebookandflippedthroughthepages.“Wow—thosearesomelargewords.”
“Sorry,weonlyhavethelarge-printeditioninstock.”
“Anyway,”hecontinued,givingmeenougheyecontacttomakemefidget.“Helikesyou,Liz.Honestly,I’veonlybeenhereforafewdays,andIcan’tgethimtoshutupaboutyou.”
WhatexactlywasWessayingwhenIwasn’taround?Washeplayingituptoomuch?Becauseifhedid,theplanmighttotallybackfire.Isaid,“Hedoesn’tevenreallyknowme—heknowsthehide-and-seekme.”
“Justtry—that’sallI’masking.Gooutwithhimandtry.”
Ilookedathimandgnawedonthecornerofmylip.“Areyouaskingmeoutforhim?”HowintheflippingflipwereWesandIgoingtogetoutofthis?
Thatmadehimsmileagain.“Notatall.ButI’mhavingpeopleoverWednesdaynighttowatchmoviessinceseniorshavelate-startThursday,andy’allshouldcome.”
Iswallowedandteased,“Youmeantogether,right?”
Thatmadehimsmile.“JustcarpoolwithWes.Please?”
God,thiswholethingwasstartingtospinoutofcontrol.NowMichaelwashavingpeopleoversoWescouldmakeamove.ButWeswasonlypretendingtothinkIwasamazingtoshowMichaelhowamazingIwas.Iwasgettingwhiplash,andthiswasmyownplan.Ineededtoenditsoon.Iasked,“Whatif,afterthat,Istillonlylikehimasafriend?Whatthen?”
“Noharm,nofoul.”Hiseyesmovedovermyface,anditfeltlikeamoment.Itfeltlikehewasreallyseeingme,orconsideringsomethingaboutme,andIwonderedjusthowbadmynoselooked.
“Fine,”Isaid.Maybehewasgivinghisfriendonelastshotbeforehemovedin.Isaid,“I’llgivehimashot.”
“Yes.”Hebeameddownatmeanddidalittlefistpumpthing.“Nowifyou’llexcuseme,I’mgoingtotakemyromancenovelhomeandreaditinasteamybubblebath.”
Ilaughed.“Gotreatyourself,honey.”
“Itwasjuststraight-upadorable,Ma.”Ileanedbackagainsttheheadstoneandcrossedmyankles,inhalingthesmelloffresh-cutgrass.SometimesAprilwasslowtohitinNebraska,withtheoccasionallatesnowstormblowingintodestroythepromiseofspring,butnotthisyear.
Birdswerechirpinginthebuddingleavesofthecemetery’stalltrees,theeveningsunwaswarm(ish),andthatspringtimefeelingofanticipationfloatedthroughtheair,alongwiththesmelloftheblossomingchokecherries.
“Notonlywashebuyingaromanticbookthatnotypicalinsecuremalewouldeveradmittoreading,buthewasfunnyandcharmingand,betweenyouandme,flirtywithhiseyes.Flirtywithhiseyes,andhe’dbeenforsureflirtywithhistextlastnight.Ithinkhethinks…Idon’tknow,Idon’twanttosayhethinksI’mcool,butmaybefunny…?Yeah,I’mprettysurehethinksI’mfunny.”
Ipicturedhislaughingfaceagain—for,like,thetwentiethtimesincehe’dleftthebookstore—andIwantedtosqueal.“IsweartoGodyouwouldlovehimsomuch.”
Shesowould.Hewasmatureandpoliteandcharmingandsmart,totallythekindofguyshemadetheheroofeverysingleoneofherscreenplays.Everyscriptshe’dwrittenhadthesolid,dependablecutielandingtheirlove.
WhichwaswhyIjustwantedhimtoaskmetopromsobadly.Somehow,goingtopromwithsomeoneshe’dknown—who’dknownherwellenoughtoknowaboutandrememberherdaisies—seemedvitallyimportant.Likeitmightmakeitfeellikeshewassomehowinvolvedinmysenioryear.
Ridiculous,right?
ButIjustwantedtheholeofemptinessinmylifetoshrinkjustatinybit.Wasthatsomuchtoask?Ikeptwaitingforthe“closure”Iwassupposedtofeel,butIwasstartingtothinkitwouldnevercome.
ThechokecherrytreeI’dbeenlookingatgotblurry,andIswalloweddownthepinchinmythroat.“DadandHelenakeepaskingmeaboutprom—ifI’mgoing,ifIneedadress—andthethingis,Idon’twanttheirhelpwithanything.It’sselfishandtheydon’tdeserveit,butifIcan’thaveyoudoingthosethingswithme,Idon’twantanyoneelse.”
“Areyoutalkingtoyourself?”
Ijumped,knockingmyheadagainstMom’sheadstone,beforeturningaroundtoseeWes.Hewasstandingthereinsportyclotheswithasweatyrunningbrow,andIputmyhandovermyracingheartandsaid,“OhmyGod—whatareyoudoinghere?”
Hismouthwentdownandhiseyebrowssquinchedtogetherlikehewasconfused.“Whoa—sorry.Ididn’tmeantostartleyou.”
Forsomereason,Iwaspissedbyhisappearance.IknewIshouldfeelembarrassedthathe’dcaughtmetalkingtoapieceofmarble,orworriedaboutwhatexactlyhe’dheard,butallIcouldthinkaboutwasthefactthathewasinthisspace.Itwasmyspace—mymom’sandmine—andheshouldn’tbethere.
Iscrambledtomyfeet.“Wes,didyoufollowmehere?Whatisyourproblem?”
“Oh.”Hissmirkdisappearedandheglancedatmymother’sgrave—nowthatI’dmoved,hecouldseehername—beforesaying,“Shit.IwasalreadyrunningwhenIsawyouturninhere.Ithoughtyouwerejustcuttingthrough.”
“Yeah,well,Iwasn’t,okay?”Iblinkedfast,tryingtostopmyemotionsfromspeedingdownwhateverchutetheywereheadedfor.“It’sprobablybestifyoujustdon’trunafterpeoplewithoutthemknowing.That’dprobablybeyourbestbet.”
Heswallowed.“Ididn’tknow,Liz.”
Irolledmyeyesandpulledmyearbudsfrommypocket.“Yeah,well,nowyoudoknow.YouknowthatweirdLittleLizisthefreakwhocan’tgetoverherdeadmom.Awesome.”
“No.Listen.”Hesteppedcloserandwrappedhishandsaroundmyupperarms,gentlysqueezingashisintensebrowneyesmovedallovermyfacelikehewasdesperatetoconvinceme.“I’mgonnagonow,andyoustay.Forgetyoueversawme.”
“Toolate.”Ibreathedinthroughmynoseandgrittedmyteeth,steppingbackfromhimandhishands.“Stayifyouwant,Idon’tcare.”
Ijammedmyearbudsintomyearsandstartedthemusic.IcrankedFooFighterssoloudthatIcouldn’thearwhateverWeswassayingtome,andIturnedawayfromhimandstartedrunningdowntheroad,eventhoughIknewhewasyellingmyname.
Iranhomeatarecordpace,tryingtothinkaboutmundanethingslikehomeworkinaweakattempttoshutdownmyemotions.Ineededtowriteapaperonpatriarchyinliterature,andIcouldn’tdecideifIshoulduse“TheYellowWallpaper”or“TheStoryofanHour.”Ilikedthesecondonebetter,butthefirsthadmorematerial.
Islammedthroughthefrontdoorandhadalmostmadeittothesafetyofmyroomwhenmydadyelledforme.
“Yeah?”
“Comeinhereforasec.”
Iwentdownthehalltohisroomandpushedopenhisbedroomdoor,stillbreathinghardfromtheexercise.“Yeah?”
Hewassittingupinbed,readingabook,withanepisodeofFriendsonTVinthebackground.Hedidn’teventearhiseyesfromthepaperbackwhenheasked,“Hey,didyougopromdressshoppingwithJocelynyet?”
“Notyet—hermomgottiedupandIdidn’treallyfeellikeitbecauseofmynose.”
“Oh,yeah.How’sthatfeeling,bytheway?”
IshruggedandthoughtabouthowmuchIlovedhearingFriendsrerunsinmydad’sroom.Heandmymotherhadwatchedthatshowinbedsomanytimesthatit’dbecomelikealullabytome,asoundthatconjuredthesightsandsmellsofmyearlychildhood.“Better,Iguess.”
“Gladtohearit.”Heturnedthevolumeonthetelevisiondowntozeroandfinallylookedatme.“Listen,sinceyouhaven’tgoneyet,maybeyoucouldseeifHelenawantstogowithyouguys.Iknowshe’dlovetodothis,andI’mprettysureshe’llpayforyouroverpriceddresstoo.”
Oh,thetiming.Ididn’twanthertocome,andIdefinitelydidn’twanthertopayformydress.Ifeltananxiousskipinmyheartbeatandtried,“Ithinkshe’sprobablytoo—”
“Comeon,LibbyLoo.”Mydadtookoffhisreadingglasses.“Shereallywantstodothiswithyou.Whyisitsuchabigask?”
Iswallowed.“It’snot.”
“Really?BecauseI’veheardhermentiontwoorthreetimesthatshe’dbehappytotakeyoushopping,yetyoumadeplanswithsomeoneelse.”
“I’lltakecareofit.”Whycouldn’the—andHelena—letitgo?Whydidtheyhavetopileontotheprompressure?Itfeltlikeeveryonewantedmetodosomething—multiplesomethings—thatIdidn’twanttodo.
Hecockedaneyebrow.“You’llinviteher?Andnotsaysomethinglikeitwasmyidea?”
Mythroatwastight,butIsaid,“Sure.”
Hemovedontotalkingaboutsomethingelse,butIdidn’thearanyofit.WhyshouldIhavetogodressshoppingwithHelena?Fortherestofourchatandtheentiredurationofmyshowerafterward,mybrainshoutedargumentstothegreatunknown.IfeltsuffocatedbythethoughtofHelenatakingmymom’splace,thekindofhelplessdesperationthatcausedyourfingernailstoleavetinycrescentgroovesonyourpalms.Idon’twantherthere,sowhyisitgettingforceddownmythroat?Whydoherwishescountmorethanmine?TheargumentsboiledthroughmeasIbrushedmyteethandlaidoutmyclothes,andbythetimeIshutoffthelightandclimbedintobed,Iwasexhausted.
AndtotallyrackedwithguiltaboutwhatabitchI’dbeentoWesatthecemetery.He’ddonenothingwrong,butthesightofhiminthatweirdlysacredplacehadsetmeoff.IguessitwasbecausethatwastheonlyplacewhereIfeltheranymore.Therestoftheworld—andmylife—hadmovedon,butinthatonespot,nothinghadchangedsinceshe’ddied.
Iwaspathetic.
IflippedonmyTVandloadedtheTwoWeeksNoticeDVD.ItwasanothermoviewhereHughGrantwasplayingasketchball,butthebanterbetweenhimandSandraBullockmorethanmadeupforthatfactandactuallymadehimforgivable.IpulledtheblanketsuptomychinasSandraBullock’scharacterorderedtoomuchChinesefood.WhenIreachedformyphonetoplugitin,InoticedI’dmissedatext.
FromWes.
Wes:I’msorry.Ididn’tknowthatyourmomwasthereorIneverwould’vefollowedyouinside.IknowyouthinkI’madickbutIpromiseyou—Iwouldneverintrudeonthat.
Isighedandsatup.Iwassoembarrassed.HowcouldIevenexplainit?Noonenormalwouldeverunderstand.
Andwait—hethoughtthatIthoughthewasadick?
Me:Forgetit.I’mtheonewhoshouldbeapologizingbecauseyoudidn’tdoanythingwrong.YoucaughtmeatabadmomentandIfreakedout—notyourfault.
Wes:No,Igetit.Itwasn’taparentsoIknowit’snotthesame,butIwasclosetomygrandma.EverytimewegotoMN,thefirstthingIdoisgotothecemeterytotalktoher.
Ilookedupfrommyphoneandblinked.ThenItexted:Really?
Wes:Really.
Inoddedinthedarknessandblinkedfastwhilemythumbsflewoverthekeys.
Me:Istarted“running”asawaytogotalktoherwithouthavingtoexplain.
Wes:Noshit—that’swhyyoustartedrunning?
IcouldhearFitzmeowingatmydoor,soIgotupandwenttoopenit.
Me:Notpasttense—thatiswhyIrun.
Wes:Waitasecond—areyoutellingmethateverydaywhenIseeyoutakeoffandIassumethatyou’retraininginordertomakeittotheOlympictrials,you’reactuallyjustrunningtoOakLawntotalktoyourmother?
Mr.Fitzpervertlookedupatme,meowed,andwalkedaway.Nowtherewasadick.Ishutmydoor.
Me:Bingo.ButIsweartoGodIwillgutyouwithavegetablepeelerifyoutellanyone.
Wes:Yoursecretissafewithme,Buxbaum.
Iwalkedovertothewindow.Yourhouselooksdark—areyouupinyourroom?
Wes:Areyouevernotcreepingonme,creeper?Andbeforeyouask,I’mwearingakickypairoftrousers,apirateblouse,andablackberet.
Ilaughedinthequietofmyroom.
Me:Iwasn’tgoingtoask,butthatsoundshot.
Wes:Itis.I’vegotheatstrokeupinhere.
Ilookeddownattheirfrontyard,wheresomeonehadleftafootballnexttothehydrangeabushes.
Wes:AndtheanswertoyourquestionisthatI’moutback,intheSecretArea.
TheSecretArea.Ihadn’tthoughtofitinyears.Wes’shousehadabitoflandbehindtheirfencethathadneverbeendeveloped.Sowhiletherestofthehousesonthisstreetbackeduptootherbackyards,Wes’shadatinylittleforestbehindit.
Ingradeschool,duringpeakhide-and-seekdays,we’ddubbeditthe“SecretArea.”Itwaswherewe’dexplored,pretended,startedunapprovedcampfires…Ithadbeenincredible.Ihadn’tbeenbacktheresincethesummerbeforemiddleschool.
Me:Why?
Wes:Comeseewhy.
Didhereallywantmetocomehangout?Hangingoutbyourselves,inawaythathadnothingtodowithMichael?Mymomhadcautionedagainstdatingflightyboys,butitwasokaytobefriendswiththem,right?Itexted:MydadandHelenaarealreadyasleep.
Wes:Sosneakout.
Irolledmyeyes—sotypical.Unlikeyou,I’veneversnuckout.Itseemsill-advised.
Icouldn’t,butpartofmefeltlikeIcouldhearhimlaughatmyresponse.Afteraboutaminute,myphonebuzzed.
Wes:“Ill-advised.”Buxbaum,youneverfailtomakemelaugh.
Me:Thankyou.
Wes:Notacompliment.BUT.You’relookingatthisthewrongway.
Me:Oh?Andwhatistherightway?
Wes:You—averywell-behavedteenager—simplywanttogetsomefreshspringairandlookatthestarsforacoupleminutes.Insteadofwakingupyourparents,youdecidetoquietlyslipoutforafewminutes.
Me:You’reasociopath.
Wes:Dareyou.
Iglancedinthedirectionofthehallasthosewords—“dareyou”—broughtbacksomanymemoriesofWesgoadingmetodothingsIshouldn’t,likeclimbingontoBrendaBuckholtz’sroofandding-dong-ditchingMr.Levine’shouse.
BeforeIcouldrespond,hetexted:I’mshuttingoffmyphonesoIwon’tgetyourexcuses.Seeyouinfiveminutes.CHAPTEREIGHT
“Ilikeyouverymuch.Justasyouare.”
—BridgetJones’sDiary
Icouldn’tbelieveIwasdoingit.Isteppedoverthecreakyfloorboardinthehallwayandquietlycrepttowardtheslidingglassdoorinthediningroom.Itwasrisky,butforsomereasonIneededtodothis.
IwantedtohangoutwithWes.
Itwasprobablyjustthathisunderstandingofmygriefmademefeelacamaraderiewithhim.I’dalwaysfeltlikemyvisitswithmymomwerefreakish,butI’dalsofeltlikesomethinginsidemewouldbreakifIhadtostop.
Thattheorywouldbetestedinthefall,though,wouldn’tit?
Regardless,finallysharingitwithsomeonefeltalmostlikearelease.Itdidn’tmakesensethathewastheone—ofallpeople—formetoshareitwith,butIwasstartingtomovebeyondquestioningit.
ItalsofeltnicetonotbefightingwithWesforonce.Whichwasweird,becausethatwasourthing;hemessedwithmeandIgotpissed.Rinseandrepeat,forourwholelives.ButnowIwasdiscoveringthathewashilariousandniceandseemedlikemorefunthanprettymucheveryoneelseIknew.
Islowlypulledopenthedoor,listeningforanysoundscomingfromtheotherendofthehouseasMr.Fitzpervertsnakedinbetweenmystockingedfeet.
Isteppedoutontothedeckandslidthedoorclosedbehindme.Itwasachillynight,withaclearskyandabright,highmoonthatlitupthetown.Icouldseemoonshadowseverywhere,whichwerebeautifulandeerieatthesametime.
Icreptdownthestairs,andonceIhitthecoldgrass,Ijoggedacrossthebackyardandovertothechain-linkfencethatseparatedouryards.Itsuddenlyfeltlikeithadbeenmeredays—notyears—sinceI’dclimbedthatfenceasakid,andIwasoveritandinhisyardinseconds.
Theshadowswerecreepy,soIkeptjoggingtothebackgate,forgettinganysemblanceofcoolnessorcomposure.Ipulledupthearm,openedthegate,andwhisper-yelled,“Wes?”
“Overhere.”
Icouldbarelyseebecausethethicktreesblockedoutthemoon,butIwalkedinthedirectionofhisvoice.Iwentaroundafloweringbushandawidefirtree,andthentherehewas.
“OhmyGod,Wes.”Ilookedaround,amazed.
TherewerehundredsoftinytwinklinglightsstrunginagroupingoftreesthatcircledfourwoodenAdirondackchairs,oneofwhichWeswassittingin.Afirepitroaringwithflameswasatthecenterofeverything,andarockwaterfallranbehindhim.Thespacewassothickwithfoliagethatitfeltlikeawild,hiddenspotinsteadofasuburbanbackyard.“Thisisincredible.Didyourmomdoallofthis?”
“Nah.”Heshruggedandlookeduncomfortable.WesBennettlookedawkward—forperhapsthefirsttimeever—andhesattherewithhislonglegsstretchedoutinfrontofhimandlookedupatthesky.“Thisismyfavoritespot,soIactuallydidit.”
“Nope.”Isatdowninthechairacrossfromhim.“Youdidn’tdothis.Noway.”
“Yesway.”Hekepthiseyesupandsaid,“Iworkedforalandscapingcompanythreesummersago,andeverythingwechargedclientsafortunefor,Iwouldjustdomyselfbackhere.Retainingwalls,waterfalls,pond;it’sallsimpleandcheaptomakeifyouknowwhatyou’redoing.”
Whowasthisguy?
Tuckingmylegsunderneathme,Ipulledmysleevesovermyfingersandlookedupatthesky.Itwasclearandtherewerestarseverywhere.“BellaLuna”—averyoldJasonMrazsong—wasthechoicestofallmusicalnumberstosetthebackgroundforthissurprisemoonlitoasis.
Bellaluna,mybeautiful,beautifulmoon
Howyouswoonmelikenoother—
Istoppedthemusicinmyheadandsaid,“Hey,IsawMichaeltoday.”
“Iknow.”
Isquinted,tryingtobetterseehisfaceinthedarkness,searchingforsomegiveaway.Hejustkeptlookingatthesky,though.“Hetoldyou?”
“Hedid.”IlookedatWes’sprofile.Hislipsbarelymovedashequietlysaid,“Hetextedme.Saidhe’drunintoyouand,Liz—hesaidyouwerefunny.”
“Hedid?”Iwantedtohowl.Iknewit.“Whatexactlydidhesay?”
“Hesaid,‘She’sprettyfunny.’Andthenhementionedtheget-togetherathishouse.”
“Yep.IsaidI’dgiveyouashot.”Ilookedintothefire.Funny—he’dsaidIwasfunny.Thatwasgood,right?Iguessthatmeantmyawkwardcoconutstexthadn’tkickedmeofftheisland.“ButpartofmeworriesthatI’mscrewingupmychanceswithourlittleversionoffake-dating.”
Thatbroughthiseyesrightbacktomyface.“Youwanttoquit?”
Ishruggedandwonderedwhathewasthinking.Becauseasfunasthisactuallywas,andinspiteofthefactthatitwaskindofworking,Iwasdonewithallthelying.Isaid,“IalwaysthinkIknowwhatI’mdoing,butwhatifyou’rerightaboutmyterriblegrandplans?WhatifI’mjustruiningbothofourdatinglives?”
AndjeopardizingmyfriendshipwithJossandalsosinkingintoalifeofhabitualdishonesty.
“ThenI’llhavetokillyou.Datingismyeverything.”
“Smart-ass.”Irolledmyeyesbecause,forapopularguy,I’donlyeverheardofhimbeinginafewrelationships,noneofwhichhadturnedintoanythingserious.
Iranmyteethovermybottomlipandsaid,“MaybeyoushouldtakemetoMichael’s,andthenweshoulddecidewearen’tamatch.And,Idon’tknow,sendoutagrouptext?”
Iblinkedfastandtriedtofigureoutwhythethoughtofbeingdonewithourplanmademyheartbeatinmyneck.
Helookedatmethen,andIwassurprisedbyhowsofthissmilewas.Helookedalmostsweetashesaid,“Ican’tbelieveyourridiculousplanisworking.”
“Right?”
HekindoflaughedandsodidI,andthenhesaid,“Ireallyamsorryaboutearlier,bytheway.”
Iwavedahand.“Nobiggie.”
“Imadeyoucry.”Helookedaway,butIcaughtaglimpseofhisclenchedjaw.Itwasalmostlikeitmatteredtohimthathe’dupsetme.And,inthemoonlight,IfeltsomethingthatIhadneverfeltaboutWesbefore.Iwantedtomoveclosertohim.
Iswallowedandcheckedmyself.WhatwasthisinfluxofWes-fondness?IwasprobablyjustawareofhowmuchfunI’dhadwithhimduringourdeal,andnowitwasalmostover.
Thatwasit.
Soinsteadoffollowingthroughontheabsurdinstincttomovecloser,Ijustsaid,“God,you’resoarrogant,Bennett.Iwasalreadycryingwhenyoushowedup.Everythingisn’taboutyou,youknow.”
Butitwasactuallythatmoment,thatcryingmoment,that’dforgedsomesortofconnectionbetweenmeandWes.
Anditwasagoodconnection.
IsawhisAdam’sapplebobaroundaswallowasIstaredathissilhouette.Heliftedhiseyestomeandsaid,“Promise?”
“Ugh.Yes.”GoodLord,hewaskillingmewithhisconcern.Iclearedmythroatandlookedbackatthesky.“I’mgoodnow,soforgetyoueversawit.”
“Done.”
Wesatquietlyforafewminutes,bothofuslostinthestarrysky,butitwasn’tawkward.Foronceinmylife,Ididn’tfeelcompelledtofilltheemptyspacewithconstantchatter.
“Icanstillpictureherperfectly,youknow,”hesaid.
“Hm?”Isaid.Iwasconfused,andmust’velookedit,becauseheadded,“Yourmom.”
“Really?”Icurledtighterintothechair,wrappingmyarmsaroundmylegsandpicturingherface.EvenIwasn’tsureIcouldrememberherexactfeaturesanymore.Itbrokemyheartalittle.
“Forsure.”Hisvoicewaswarm,likeitwasholdingasmile,andhecrackedhisknuckleswhenhesaid,“Shewasso…Hmm…What’stheword?Charming,maybe?”
Ismiled.“Enchanting.”
“That’sperfect.”Hegavemealittle-boygrinandsaid,“Therewasthisoneday,Iwasrunninginfrontofyourhouseandtotallywipedout.Absolutelyshreddedmykneeonthesidewalk.Yourmomwasoutthere,trimmingherroses,soItriedjumpingupandbeingcool.Y’know,becauseIwas,like,eightandyourmomwashellapretty.”
Ismiledandrememberedhowmuchshe’dlovedtendinghergarden.
“Insteadoftreatingmelikealittlekid,shecutoneofherrosesandpretendedtohurtherfinger.Shedidawhole‘ouch’thingbeforesaying,‘Wesley,wouldyoumindhelpingmeforaminute?’?”
“Now,mindyou,Ijustwantedtocrawloffintoacorneranddiefrommyhorrificbattlewounds.ButifMrs.Buxbaumneededme,Iwasdamnwellgoingtohelp.”
Weswasgrinning,andIwashelplesstodoanythingotherthanthesame.Ihadn’theardanewstoryaboutmymotherinsuchalongtimethathiswordswereoxygenandIwasbreathingtheminwithalife-and-deathdesperation.
“SoIlimpedonoverandfollowedherinsideyourhouse,which,bytheway,alwayssmelledlikevanilla.”
Itwasvanillacandles—Istillboughtthesamescent.
“Anyway,shehadmehelphergetaBand-Aidonherfingerlikeshecouldn’tdoitherselforsomething.Ifeltliketheherowhenshekeptthankingmeandtellingmehowgrown-upIwasgetting.”
NowIwasbeaminglikeadork.
“Thenshe‘noticed’mybloodykneeandsaidImust’vebeensoconcernedabouthelpingherthatIhadn’tevenrealizedIwasbleeding.Shecleanedmeup,putonaBand-Aid,andgavemeaFudgesicle.Mademefeellikeadamnedheroforface-plantingonthesidewalk.”
Ilaughedandlookedupatthesky,myheartfull.“Thatstoryissoon-brandformymom.”
“EverytimeIseeacardinalinyouryard,Ithinkit’sher.”
Ilookedathisshadowedfaceandalmostwantedtolaugh,becauseIneverwould’veimaginedWeshavingsuchafantasticalthought.“Youdo?”
“Imean,there’sthewholethingaboutcardinalsbeing—”
“Deadpeople?”
Hescrunchedhiseyebrowsatme,cringingalittle.“Iwastryingforverbiageatadmoredelicatethanthat,butyes.”
“Idon’tknowifIbuythewholedead-people-come-back-as-birdsthing,butit’sanicethought.”Itwas.Thenicest.ButI’dalwaysfeltlikeifIallowedmyselftobelieveinthosenotions,I’dnevergetpastherdeathbecauseI’dsurelyspenteverysecondofmylifetearfullybird-watching.
“Doyoumissheralot?”Heclearedhisthroatandmadealittlesoundlikehewasembarrassedbyhisownquestion.“Imean,ofcourseyoudo.But…isitatleastalittleeasiernowthanitusedtobe?”
Ileanedforwardandheldmyhandsinfrontofthefire.“Imissheralot.Like,allthetime.Butlatelyitfeelsdifferent.Idon’tknow.…”
Itrailedoffandstaredattheflames.Wasiteasier,hewondered?IfeltlikeIcouldn’tanswerthatquestionbecauseIrefusedtoletitgeteasier.Ithoughtaboutheralot—everysingleday—andifIstarteddoingthatless,surelyit’dgeteasier.
Buttheeasieritgot,themoreshe’ddisappear,right?
Hescratchedhischeekandasked,“Differenthow?”
“Worsemaybe?”Ishruggedandwatchedthebottomofthelogasitheatedtoalmostashadeofwhite.Iwasn’tsurehowtoexplainit,whenIdidn’tevengetitmyself.“Idon’tknow.It’sreallyweird,actually.Ijust…IguessitkindoffeelslikeI’mreallylosingherthisyear.Allofthesemilestonesarehappening,likepromandcollegeapplications,andsheisn’thereforthem.Somylifeischangingandmovingforward,andshe’sbeingleftbehindwithmychildhood.Doesthatmakesense?”
“Holyshit,Liz.”Wessatupalittlestraighterandranhishandsoverthetopofhishair,messingitupashisseriouseyesmetmineinthefirelight.“Thatmakestotalsenseanditalsosucks.”
“Areyoulying?”Isquintedinthedarkness,butthefire’sflickermadeittoughtoreadhisexpression.“BecauseIknowI’mweirdaboutmymom.”
“Howisthatweird?”Thebreezeliftedhisdarkhairandtousleditjustalittle.“Itmakesperfectsense.”
Ididn’tknowifitdidornot,butawaveofemotioncrashedovermeandIhadtorollmylipsinandblinkfasttoholditback.Therewassomethingabouthiscasualconfirmationofmysanity,mynormalcy,thathealedatinylittlepieceofme.
Probablythepiecethathadneverdiscussedmymotherwithanyoneotherthanmydad.
“Well,thanks,Bennett.”Ismiledandputmyfeetupontheedgeofthefirepit.“Theotherthingthat’smessingwithmeisthatHelenaandmydadkeeptryingtoinsertHelenaintoeveryoneofthesethingswheremymomissupposedtobe.IfeellikethebadguybecauseIdon’twantHelenathere.Idon’tneedafill-in.”
“That’stough.”
“Right?”
“ButatleastHelenaissupercool.Imean,it’dbeworseifyourstepmomwasatotalnightmare,wouldn’tit?”
Iwonderedthatallthetime.“Maybe.ButsometimesIthinkhercoolnessmakesitharder.NoonewouldunderstandwhyIfeelthiswaywhensomeonesocoolisrighthere.”
“Well,can’tyouincludeherandjustnotreplaceyourmom?Itseemstomethatyoucanstillholdontoyourmemories,evenifHelenaiswithyou.Right?”
“It’snotthateasy.”Iwisheditwas,butIdidn’tthinktherewasroomforbothofthem.IfHelenawentdressshoppingwithmeandwehadagreattime,thatmemorywouldbestampedforever,andmymotherwouldhavenopartinit.
“Doyouwantacigar?”
Thatstoppedmytrainofthought.“What?”
Isawtheupwardmovementofhislipsinthedarkbeforehesaid,“IwasabouttoenjoyaSwisherSweetoutherebeforeyoushowedup.”
Thatmademelaugh,immatureWesenjoyingagas-stationvarietyofcigarinhisbackyardlikesomekindofgrown-assman.“Ooh—classy.”
“I’mnothingifnotsophisticated.Infact,it’scherry-flavored.”
“Oh,well,ifit’scherry,I’mtotallyin.”
“Really?”
“No,notreally.”IrolledmyeyesathistotalWes-ness.“Ijustdon’tthinkI’dappreciatethecherry-flavoreddeathstick,butthanksfortheoffer.”
“Iknewthatwouldbeyouranswer.”
“No,youdidnot.”
“Ithoughtyou’dsay‘cancerstick,’buttherestIgotright.”
Itiltedmyhead.“I’mthatpredictable?”
Hejustcockedaneyebrow.
“Fine.”Iheldoutmypalm.“Handoveroneofyourelegant,cherry-flavoredsticksofdisgustingnesssoIcansetitonfireandsuckitsdeathsmokeintomylungs.”
Heraisedhiseyebrowsinsurprise.“Seriously?”
Ishrugged.“Whynot?”
“YoushouldwriteadcopyfortheSwisherpeople,bytheway.”
“HowdoyouknowIdon’t?”
“Well,ifyoudid,youwouldknowthatyoudon’tinhalecigars.”
“Youdon’t?”
“Nope.”
“So…youjusttakeapullandholditinyourcheekslikeabloatedchipmunk?”
“Youdefinitelydonot.Youjustinhalelessthanacigarette.”
“Areyoulikeahard-coresmokerorsomething?”
“No.”
“Well,itseemstomelikeifyou’relightingupouthereallbyyourselfafteralong,hardday,youmaybehaveaproblem.”
“C’mere.”Hepattedthechairbesidehim.
“Eww,no.”Isaiditteasingly,feelingsomehowbustedsinceI’dthoughtaboutmovingclosertohimearlier.
“Relax—Iwasjustgoingtolightyourflamingnastystickforyou.”
“Oh.”Istoodandmovedtothechairbesidehim.“Mybad.”
“That’sthefirsttimeyou’veeversaidthat,isn’tit?”
“Ithinkso.”
Hechuckledandopenedthepackage.Iwasn’tsurewhyIwasdoingthis,especiallywithWesBennett,butIknewIwasn’treadytogoinside.Iwaskindofhavingfun.
“Haveyoueversmoked?”
“Yes.”
“Seriously?”Wesputoneofthecigarsinhismouthandflickedthelighter
“IsmokedwithJossatapartylastsummer.”
HegrinnedandpuffedastheSwisherlit.“Iwould’velovedtowitnessthat.LittleLibbyLoo,coughingherlungsoutwhileJocelynprobablylaughedandblewperfectsmokerings.”
“You’renotthatfaroff.”Jocelynwasnauseatinglygoodateverything.I’dneverseenherfailatanything.Notbackintheday,anddefinitelynotsincewe’dbecomefriends.IfIwerehonest—andI’dneversayitoutloud—itbuggedtheshitoutofme.
Notthatshewasgoodatthings.Icouldhandlethat.Itwasmorethatshewasgoodatthingswithoutreallytryingorcaringaboutthem.Shebreezedthroughlife,neverseemingtostumblelikeIdidonanhourlybasis.
“Here.”Hehandedmethecigarandlittheotherone.Itookitandleanedbackinmychair,casuallystretchingoutmylegsandlookingupatthestars.Itfeltimportanttoleanintothecigarattitude.
Itookadrag.Thecherrywasnice,andthethingwasn’tquiteasnastyasacigarette,butitstilltastedlikebutt.
Weswaswatchingmewithahalfgrinonhisface,whichmademesay,assmokepouredoutofmymouth,“Itsurefeelsgoodtobebackinflavorcountry.”
Hestartedcackling.
Iadded,“Lovemeagoodstogie.”
Thatsenthimover.Itwasimpossiblenottojoinhimashelaughedwithhisheadallthewayback.Whenhefinallystopped,hetookapuffandsaid,“Youcanputitout,Buxbaum.”
“Oh,thankGod.”Iputoutthecigar,carefullystubbingitoutagainsttheedgeofthefirepit.“Thatwasasuperrelaxingtenseconds,though.Reallyhelpedmewinddown.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Bytheway,IheardthatAlexBenedettihasacrushonyou.”I’doverheardthatinchemistry,andmyinitialresponsehadbeenthattheycouldbeagoodmatch.Theywerebothattractiveathletes.Sosurelytheyweremeanttobe,right?
IpicturedAlexhangingoutherewithWesinsteadofme,andIdidn’tlikeit.I’dstartedlookingforwardtoourweirdcamaraderie,andeventhoughIwasstrugglingtoacceptit,Ikindofthoughthewasaniceperson.
Hepuffedonhiscigar,hisfaceunchanged.“Iheardthattoo.”
And…?“She’scute.”
Hedippedhishead.“Yeah,Isuppose.She’sjustnotreallymytype.”
“What?Whynot?”Alexwasastunningcheerleaderwithathousandfriends,thekindofgirlIassumedguyslikehimtendedtodroolover.Inadditiontothat,shewasgenuinelyniceandreallysmart.Like,I-heard-she-wanted-to-be-a-dentistlevelofsmart.
“Idon’tknow.Alexisgreatbut…”Helookedatmeandshruggedlikethatexplainedeverything.
Igrabbedthehairtiefrommywristandpulledbackmyhair.IfeltlikeIowedWessincehe’dspentsomuchtimehelpingmewithMichael.Yes,therewasstillashotofhimwinningTheSpot,butsomethingaboutthenightairintheSecretAreamademewanttodosomethingniceforhim.“Iknowchemistryplaysabigpartinattraction,butsheisgorgeous.Ican’tbelieveyouaren’tjumpingatthatchance.”
“Sheisgorgeous.”Heflickedashofftheendofhiscigarandgavemethekindofeyecontactthatforcedyoutolisten.“But,like,whatdoesthatmean,really?Unlessmygoalisjusttositandstareatherlikesomeonewouldstareatanoceanoramountainrange,prettyisjustavisual.”
Iwidenedmyeyesandcoveredmymouthwithbothhands.“Oh,dearLord,tellmemore,Wesley.”
“Shutit.”Heflippedmeoffwithhisfreehandandsaid,“I’mjustsayingthatIlikeagirlwhocanmakemelaugh,that’sall.SomeoneIhavefunwithnomatterwhatwe’redoing.”
Isatbackinmychairandcrossedmyarmsovermychest.Tiltedmyhead,furrowedmyeyebrows,andsaid,“Don’ttakethisthewrongway,butyou’redifferentthanIalwaysthoughtyouwere.”
Hiseyesweretwinkly-warmashesaid,“You’reshockedIgrewoutofthegnome-decapitationphase,aren’tyou?”
“Kindof.”Igiggledandshookmyhead.“ButIalsothoughtthatyouwouldjumpatthechanceto,um,to‘hitit.’?”
Thatmadehimsmirkandlookatmewithoneofhisdarkeyebrowsraised.“Thatisdisgusting,Buxbaum.”
“Right?”
“Isthatthefirsttimeyou’veeversaidthosewords?”
Ijustlaughedandnodded,whichmadehimbiglaugh.
Wesatoutthereafterthat,justtalkingaboutnothing,untilhefinishedhisSwisher.
“Areyougoingtohaveanotherone?”Iasked.
Hetossedthebuttintothefireandstood,grabbingabigstickandmessingwiththewood.“Why—youwantone?”
“God,no.”Iliftedmyhairtomynoseandsaid,“Thosethingsmakemyhairsmelllikeadumpster.”
Heproppedthesticknexttothefirepitandpickedupthebucketsittingbehindhischair.“Iactuallyhaveearlyliftingtomorrow,soIshouldprobablyshutthisdownifyou’rereadytogoin.”
Therewassomethingabouthowsofthisfacewasatthatmoment—calmandhappyandlickedbyfireglow—thatmademefeelluckyI’ddiscoveredwhohe’dgrowninto.“Yeah,I’mready.”
Hedippedthebucketintothepondandpoureditonthefire,sendingupacloudofsmoke.AswewalkedoutoftheSecretAreaandintohisbackyard,hesaidhe’dtextmewhenMichaeltoldhimwhattimethemovienightwashappening.
Iwenttobedfeelinghappy,eventhoughIwasn’tentirelysureaboutwhat.Or,rather,who.Ilaythere,kindofthrumminglyrelaxed,untilthesmellofsmokeinmyhairdrovemesocrazy,Ihadtotakeamidnightshowerandchangemypillowcase.
ThenIwenttobedhappy.CHAPTERNINE
“Loveispatient,loveiskind,lovemeansslowlylosingyourmind.”
—27Dresses
“Hey,kiddo.”HelenalookedoveratmefromthedoorwaythatledtothekitchenasIpracticedpianointhelivingroom.Ilikedplayinginthemorning,andIlikedplayinginmyfancyfloweredpajamaswiththematchingsilkslippers.Itmadepracticingfeellikeanelegantpastime,likeIwasanerstwhileAustencharacterhoningoneoftheskillsthatwouldmakemeafearsomethingtobehold.
“Youhungry?WantmetotoastyouaPop-Tartorsomething?”
“No,thanks.”ItriedtokeepplayingwhileItalkedtoher,butI’dneverbeenabletopulloffthatparticularskill.IfIpracticedformorethananhourortwoaweek—likemymotherusedto—itprobablywouldn’tseemsodifficult.She’dplayedeverysingleday,andithadshowed.“Ihadabananaalready.”
“Gotit.”
Sheturnedtowalkbackintothekitchen,andIforcedmyselftodoit.Isaid,“Helena.Wait.”
Shetiltedherhead.“Yeah?”
“Iknowit’slastminute,”Iblurtedout,steelingmyselfagainstthefeelingsasIextendedtheinvitation,“but,um,Jocelynjusttextedmeandsaidhermomcantakeuspromdressshoppinglaterthismorning,sinceit’sateacherin-serviceday.Doyouwanttocome?”
Helenaliftedherchinandloweredherbrows,tuckingherhairbehindherears.“Thatdepends.Howcomeyou’reasking?”
“Um,becauseIthoughtyoumightwanttocome…?”
Herlooktoldmethatsheknewbetter.“Yourdaddidn’ttellyoutodothis?”
Partofmefeltlikebeinghonest,butinsteadIsaid,“No,washesupposedtoorsomething?”
Sheblinkedandlookedatmeforanothersecond,andthenherfacetransformedintohappiness.“Iwouldlovetocome,honey.OhmyGod.IthinkweshouldhitStarbucksfirst,wherewecanguesspeople’scoffeeordersbytheiroutfits.Thenwecandothedressthing,andmaybelandatEastman’sforsomelunchthatincludesthathotlavadessertwhichissupposedlytodiefor.Although,Iseriouslydoubtanyfoodistodiefor.Imean,I’mobsessedwithCaramellobars,butIwouldcertainlynevergivemylifeforone.”
Shewasbeingherusualrambling,sarcasticself,butIfeltlikeI’dmadeherreally,reallyhappy.
“Whatabouticecream?”Ireachedoverwithmyrighthandandtinkledoutanice-cream-truck-ishtune,gladI’daskedher.Perhapsthiswouldbegoodforus.“Thatcouldbeconsideredtodiefor.”
“It’snotevenasolid.IfI’mgoingdownforafood,it’snotgoingtobeafoodthat’shoveringsomewherebetweentwochemicalstates.”
“Goodpoint.”Istoppedplaying.“Doweevendiscussyourbelovedbananabread?”
“It’sworthyoffeloniousthievery,maybe,butnotdeath.Iwouldstealitfromthepresidenthimself,butIwouldn’tjustlaydownmylifeforitsdeliciousmoistness,either.”
“Butwouldn’tstealingfromthepresidentgetyoukilledbytheSecretService,andthereforebethesamething?”
“Well,I’mnotgoingtogetcaught,ofcourse.”
“Ofcourse,indeed.”
Iwentupstairsandgotready,andbythetimeIwasdone,Helenawaswaitingformeinthelivingroom.Shewaswearingabossbitchleatherjacketthatlookedperfectwithherjeans,andIonceagainmarveledatthefactthatshewasmydad’sage.
“Youreadytodothis?I’mthinkingwebuyajokedressjusttofreakyourdadout.Like,wegetyouastunninggown,butwealsogetatrashylittlenumberthatgiveshimacoronary.”
“Doyoureallywanttohavetonursehimbacktohealthafterhistriplebypass?”
“Goodpoint.He’satotalbabywhenhedoesn’tfeelgood.”Shegrabbedherkeysandtuckedherphoneintoherpocket.“I’lljusttexthimapictogivehimatinyscare.”
IfollowedHelenaouttothegarageandgotintohercar.ShehadamatteblackChallenger,whichwasabruteofacarthatrumbledsoloud,youcouldn’theartheradiounlessitwascranked.Aguyattheauto-partsstoreaskedheraboutitonce,aboutwhyshewantedtodriveacarthatwasclearlymeantforamanandprobablytoomuchhorsepowerforhertohandle,andI’llneverforgetheranswer.
“Itwastruelove,Ted.Ilookedover,sawthisguy,andItotallylostmymind.Iknowhe’sloudandin-your-face,butwheneverIlookathim,Ifeelalittleweak-kneed.AndwhenIdrivehim—forgetaboutit.He’sfastandwildandalittleunruly,andIcanfeelhisthroatyrumblesallthroughmybodywhenIburythatgaspedal.Thatbeasthasforeverruinedmeforallothervehicles.”
TedatNAPAlosttheabilitytospeak,whileHelenabeamedathimlikeshehadnoideawhatshe’ddone.She’dwieldedherpowerlikeagoddess,andregardlessofmycomplicatedfeelingsaboutherandherplaceinmylife,Ihadmadrespectforthat.
“Pumpkinspicelatte.”
“Seriously?That’syourguess?”IrolledmyeyesandtookasipofmyFrappucino.“It’slikeyouaren’teventrying.Think,Helena—it’sApril.Starbucksdoesn’tevenofferthatdrinkinApril.”
“YouthinkIdon’tknowthat?”Herlipsbarelymovedasshewatchedthegirlstepuptotheregister.Theordererinquestionwasyoung—probablyafreshman—andshewasdressedlikeaGapmodel.“She’sababy,soshedoesn’tknowtherules.Sheonlyknowsthatheroldersisterlethertryoneonce,anditwasah-may-zing.”
Igiggled.
Thegirlopenedhermouthandsaid,“CouldIpleasegetagingerbreadlatte?”
Towhichthebaristarespondedwith,“I’msorry,butthat’saseasonaldrink.”
IlookedatHelenawithawide-openOmouth.“Youweresoclose!”
“Notmyfirstrodeo,kid.”Sheshruggedandtookasipofherespresso.“You’vegotMessengerBagoverthere—don’tdisappointme.”
Ilookedattheguywiththemessengerbagwhowasstaringdownathisphone.Hisbagwastotalbutter,richleatherworntoperfectioninthewaythatonlyexpensivebagscouldbeworn.Histortoiseshellglassesmadehimlooksmartbutalsostylish,andhiswatchbandwasperfectlycoordinatedwithhisbeltandshoes.
“VentiicedAmericanowithsoymilk.”Ileanedbackonmystoolandcrossedmyarms.“He’sembracingspringbyselectingacoldbeverage,buthecan’tletgoofthestrongseriousnessoftheAmericano’sbite.”
“Thatisexcellent,mypupil.”
MessengerBaglookedatthebaristaandsaid,“Yeah,Ijustneedaniceddarkroast.”
“Ooh,soclose,”Imuttered,pullingmyphoneoutofmydresspocketandcheckingformessages.TherewasnoreasontothinkWeswouldtextme,butafterhangingoutlastnightandhavingsuchagoodtime,itfeltlikeapossibility.
“AndcanIgetasplashofsoy,please?”
“Boom.”Helenaslappedthetable.“That’sprettyfreakingclose,Liz.”
“We’reonfiretoday.”
Shenoddedandsaid,“Speakingoffire,what’supwithWes?”
“Whatdoeshehavetodowithfire?”
Sheshrugged.“Nothing.I’mtooimpatienttowaitforagoodsegue.”
“Oh.”IclearedmythroatandwatchedasMessengerBagtookhiscoffeeandjoinedatableofthreeotherMessengerBags.“Um.Nothingisreally‘up’withWes.”
“Areyousure?Becauseyouspentatleastanhouroutsidewithhimlastnight.”
Myeyesshottohers,butinsteadoflookingpissed,shegavemeaGotchasmile.“Don’tworry—itwaspurelybyaccidentthatIknow.Ihappenedtobelookingoutthewindowattheexactmomentthatyoushotacrossthebackyardlikeyourbuttwasonfireandclimbedhisfence.”
“Doesmydadknow?”
“WhywouldIwakehimupwhenyouwerejustgoingoutsidetolookatthestars?”
Ishruggedandbitdownonmysmile.AsmuchasIdidn’twanttofallundertheshe’s-so-coolspellthateveryonewhometHelenaseemedtofallunder,sometimesshereallycouldbeunbelievablycool.“Idon’tknow.Thanksfornottellinghim.Itwasnothing,butIfeellikeit’dbeabigdealtohim.”
“Oh,itdefinitelywouldbe.”Sheliftedhercupandtoyedwiththelid.“Hetrustsyou,though.Webothdo.”
“Iknow.”Icrossedmylegsandtracedoneofthegroovesonmytightswithmyfinger.“AndWesandIarejustfriends,fortherecord.He’skindofhelpingmewithsomething.”
“What?”Sheswungherlegbackandforthoverthesideofherstool.“LastIheard,youtwowerebattlingoverthatparkingspot.Now,allofasudden,you’refriendsandhe’sprovidinghelpfulassistance?Howinthefrackdidthathappen?”
“It’skindofcomplicated.”
“I’dexpectnothingless.”Shelookedthroughtheopeninginherlidbeforeswirlinghercuparound.“ButyouhavetobealittleattractedtoWes.Imean,notonlyistheguyprettyandmuscular,buthe’salsohilarious.Like,ifIwasateenager,Iwouldtotallygoforthatone.”
BeforeIhadachancetoutterasound,sheinterruptedherselfwith,“Oh,goodGod,pleasescratchthatfromtherecord.Isoundlikeoneofthoseteacherswhosendspicturesofherbitstoherstudents.YoudoknowIdidn’tmeanitlikethat,right?”
Thatmademesmile.“Ofcourse.”
“IfindWesadorableinthewaythatonefindsapuppywithhugepawsadorable.”
“Settledown.Iknow.”
“Oh,thankGod.”
“AndIagree.Untilrecently,Ihadn’treallynoticedWes.ButnowthatI’vespenttimewithhim,Icantotallyseewhyagirlmightbeintohim.”
“Hisshoulders,right?They’rewildlybroad.”
Isquinted.“Theyare?”
“Youhadn’tnoticed?”
“Notreally.Butthat’snotthepoint.WhatIwasgoingtosaywasthatIcanseehowagirlwouldgetintohimbecausehe’skindofthoughtfulfora…”HowwouldIevencategorizeWesanymore?Mypreviouslabelsdidn’tseemtofit.“ForWes.”
IpicturedhimatRyno’sparty,savingmefromcertainhumiliationbyholdingupthepantshe’dloanedme.HolyGod,WesBennettwaskindofacatch,wasn’the?Helistenedwell,madelate-nightphonecalls,builtbeautifulfirepitsthatbelongedinlifestylemagazines.Weswasalittlebitdreamy.
“Butnotforyou?”
“No.”NomatterwhatIwaslearningaboutWes,anyrealrelationshipwithhimwouldendinsuredisaster.And—asifIneededtoconvincemyself—justlikethat,Iwantedtotellher.Everything.“Sohere’swhat’shappening.Butthisistopsecret,okay?Like,evenJocelyndoesn’tknow.”
“OhmyGod,Ilovebeingtheoneintheknow.”Shebeamedandleanedalittlecloser.“Tellmeeverything,yousneakylittletart.”
AndIdid.ItoldheraboutMichael,andshemadeaheart-flutteringgesturewhenIdescribedhimandhisunexpectedre-emergenceinmylife.(ThoughIleftofftheconnectiontomymom.)ItoldheraboutWes’sandmyplan,andshelaughedandcalledmeanevilgenius.
ShecriedactualtearswhenIdescribedgettingvomitedon,andshesnortedwhilecryingwhenIaddedthedetailsofthenose-meets-basketballaccidenttothestory.Shewaswipingathereyeswhenshesaid,“OhmyGod,it’slikefateistryingitshardesttokeepyouawayfromhim.”
What?Itwasn’tlikethat,wasit?Thosewerejustunfortunatecoincidences.
“EverytimeyougetclosetohavingamomentwithMichael,itsoundsliketheuniversebreaksitupwithaballtothefaceorapuketotheoutfit.IthinktheuniverselikesWesbetter.”
I’mprettysureIlookedatherasifshehadasnakecrawlingoutofhermouth.“No,itdoesn’t.Thosethingswerefreakaccidents.Ifanything,I’dsaybadluckjustfollowsinWes’swake.Mebeingnearhimwasprobablywhatfatewaspissedabout.”
Hereyebrowswentup.“Oh-kay,Liz.Whateveryousay.”
TheuniverselikesWesbetter.
Mybrainwasfriedbythatsingle,solitarysentenceaswewentouttohercaranddrovetotheshoppingcenter.DidtheuniverselikeWesbetter?
“I’mgoingtobesick.”IshookmyheadandstaredasJocelynlookedatherreflectioninthemirror.Shewaswearinganorangefloor-lengthgown,andshelookedmorelikesomeoneontheredcarpetattheOscarsthanahighschoolstudenttryingonapromdress.“Doesanythinglookbadonyou?”
Joss’smombarked,“It’stoogrown-up.Takeitoff.”
Hermotherwasoneofthosenice-but-intimidatingparents.She’dalwaysbeensupersweettome,butwhenshewasmadatJoss,itmademenervous.Shewastiny—barelyoverfivefeet,buteveryinchofherwasincharge.
Shewasanattorney,andI’dalwaysassumedshewasamazingatherjobbecauseI’dyettoseeJosseverwinanargumentwithher.
Jocelynrolledhereyesandmutteredsomethingaboutshakinghermomuntilthewoman’shairfelloutofitsbun,whichmademegigglebutalsothinkaboutthewayWeswasalwaysmessingupmyhair.Itwassuperannoying,butsomethingaboutitmademesmileeverytime.
Iclearedmythroatandfrowned,justtomakesureIwasn’tcreepilygrinningintospace.
Thatcouldruineverything.
Becausesofar,JossandIwerehavingfunlikeanormalshoppingtrip.Herirritationwithmyreticenceonsenioractivitiesandmyirritationwithherbadgeringhadyettoreartheiruglyheads.
ItwasgreatandIdidn’twantmyboy-dramaliestomessitup.
Wewereatourthirdstore,anditwasgoingthesamewaythatit’dgoneateverystop.Itriedonahandfulofdressesthatwereso-so,andeverydressthatJocelynslidintolookedamazing.Shewashavingahardtimenarrowingitdowntoone,andIwashavingahardtimefindingevenone.
“It’snotthatIlookgood;it’sthatI’mtryingongreatdresses.”Jocelynlookedatmeinthemirror.“You,ontheotherhand,keeptryingonretrofloralthingsthatdon’tevenlooklikepromdresses.Iknowyou’vegotyourwholeromantic-vibething,buttryonadamnfloor-lengthgownthatisconsideredapromdress,fortheloveofGod.”
“She’sright,Liz.”Helenawaseatingacorndogshe’dboughtinthemallwhileshesatonachairandwatchedustryondresses.“Justgrabastackandgetrolling.”
“Stepoutsideofyourcomfortzone,”Jocelyn’smothersaid,givingmeamaternalsmileandareassuringnod.ThenshebarkedatJoss,“Thatoneistootightandthecleavageistoomuch.Ontothenext.”
Iglancedattheracksanddidn’tfeellikeanymoresearching.“Ugh.”
“Here.Wait.”Jocelynheldupafinger.“Gotothedressingroomandwaitforme.I’mgoingtobringtendressesforyoutotryon.Justtrustme.”
“Butyoudon’t—”
“Trustme.”
Isighedandstrolledbacktothefittingrooms,alreadysodonewiththedressshopping.IploppeddownonthebenchandfeltmyphonebuzzwhenIsat.IpulleditoutandsawamessagefromWes.
Wes:Whathappenedtoyourcar?
TheminuteIsawthatthetextwasfromWes,Ifelt…something.SomethinggoodandequallyconfusingthatIchalkeduptobeingrelatedtoMichael.HecouldhavebeentextingaboutMichael—thathadtobethereasonformyreaction.
Hisquestioncrackedmeup,becauseofcourseWeswouldnotice.Mydad,themanwhosenamewasonthetitle,hadn’tnoticedthedamageI’ddonewhenI’dscrapedthecaragainstthesideofthedrive-thrupostthedaybefore,butWesBennetthad.
Me:Keepyourmouthshutifyouknowwhat’sgoodforyou.
Wes:Areyouthreateningme?
Me:Onlyifyoubroachthetopicofmycaragain.
Wes:So…um…niceweatherouttoday,eh?Whatchadoin?
Me:Promdressshopping.It’sawful.
Wes:Worsethanshoppingwithme?
Ithoughtaboutthatforasecond.Actually,yes.Atleastyouwereinahurry.Theseladiesareallaboutstretchingitout,andIkindofwanttomakearunforit.IthinkIcouldbelly-crawloutofthisdressingroomundetected.…
Wes:Whoareyougoingtopromwith?IthoughtthegoalwasMichael.
MybrainproducedanimageofWesinatuxedo,andIquicklyclearedit.Michaelwasthegoal.
“Okay.”Jocelynappearedinthedoorwaywithanarmfulofdresses.“Promisemeyouwilltryonallofthese.Eveniftheydon’tlooklikesomethingyou’dnormallygofor,justhumormeandtrythemonforus.Deal?”
Isetmyphoneonthebench.“Deal.”
Shefurrowedhereyebrowstogether.“Whowereyoutexting?”
Ifurrowedmyeyebrowsrightbackather.“Why?”
“Seriously?”
IshruggedandfeltlikeI’dbeenbustedlookingatdirtypictures.“Wes,okay?Hetextedmeaboutthepaintonthesideofmycar.”
JocelynknewaboutthepaintbecauseI’dtextedherwhenIhitthepole,soshewasn’tfazedbythatrevelation.Butherfacelitupandshesaid,“YouandWestexteachothernow?”
“Notreally.”IclearedmythroatandtriedtorememberwhatI’dtoldherbeforethebasketballouting.“It’sjustbeenacoupletimesandit’stotallycasual.”
“Yeah,right.Youaren’tfoolingme,bytheway.”Shehungthedressesonahookandputherhandsonherhips.“Eventhoughyou’reactingallcool,youlike-likeWesBennett.”
“Idonot.”Ididn’t!MyemotionalresponsestoWeswereallabouthisconnectiontomymotherandthefactthatwewerepartnersincrime.
Thatwasit.
“Oh,yes,youdo.You’vebeendaydreamingalldaylong,everytimeyou’vetriedonadress.”Hereyesnarrowedandshesaid,“Ohmygod—youbetternotditchmeforWes.”
“Shutup.”Mystomachgottightwhenshegavemethatlittlepreviewofjusthowunhappyshe’dbeifMichaelaskedmetoprom.“I’mnotditchingyouforWes.”
ButImightdoitforMichael.God,Iwasagarbagefriend.
“Well,youhavesomeboyonthemind,andifitisn’tdearWesley,thenwhoisit?”
Partofmewantedtocomecleanandjusttellher.Whocaredifshethoughtmyplanwasabadidea?Perhapsitwastime.
Butjustasthatthoughtwasfiringup,IheardHelenaandJoss’smotherlaughingoutbythebigmirror.Theysoundedliketwomoms,happilywaitingontheirdaughters,andthatbroughtallofmyscrewed-upemotionsrushingback.
Nope.Ijustcouldn’tfindthefortitudeforadisagreement,notthereinthefittingroomatRalph’sDepartmentStore.Itwouldn’tbesobadtodoubledownontheWesthing,wouldit?Imean,technicallyhewastheonewho’dbeenonmymindallday.ItwastotallywithintherealmofbelievabilitythatIhadatinycrushonWesthatwouldultimatelynotpanout,right?
Idraggedahandthroughmyhair.“I’mstilltryingtofigureitout,okay?ItotallyhavefunwhenI’mwithWes,buthe’salsonotmytypeand—”
“Whatdoyoumean,notyourtype?Becausehe’snotsomecharacterwhowritespoetryandknowswhatyourfavoritefloweris?”
Ihatedwhenshedidthat.Whenshereducedmetoalovesick,airheadedchild.Isaid,“Itdoesn’tevenmatterbecausewe’rejusttalking,okay?”
“Okay.”Shegavemeafunnygrin,andtheemotionalrollercoasterI’djustenjoyedathree-minuterideonwentundetected.“Mymoney’sonBennett,though.Ifanyonecanslipinandshakeupyourromanticnotions,it’sWes.”
IrolledmyeyesandrememberedwhatHelenahadsaidearlier.“Ithinkyou’remakingthiswaymoreofathingthanitis.”
“We’llsee.Nowtryonthedresses.”
Sheslammedthedoorbehindher,andIpushedthelockover.BeforeIstartedinonthedresses,Igrabbedmyphoneandrepliedtotheprevioustext,knowingmyresponsewasalie.
Me:JocelynandIhadplannedongoingtogether,butI’msureshe’llunderstandifIgetaskedbysomeoneIcareabout.
Justputtingitintotheuniversecouldmakeittrue,right?
Ipulledonthefirstdress,alongredsparklythingthatcouldprobablybeseenfromspace,andgiggledatmyreflection.Ilookedlikeapageantcontestantwho’dlosthermakeupbagandhairsupplies.Fromtheshouldersdown—good.Fromtheshouldersup—notsomuch.
Myredhairtotallyclashedwiththedress.
Iwentouttothethree-waymirroranywayandspunformyfans,whoagreed.
“Butthestyleissomuchbetterthantheonesyoutriedearlier.”Helenaputherhandstogetherlikeshewaspraying.“PraiseJesus,Ifeellikewe’regettingclose.”
WhenIgotbacktothefittingroom,Iglancedatmyphonebeforechanging.
Wes:Whydon’tyoulikedressshopping?Thatseemslikeyourjam.
Iunzippedthedressandshimmiedoutofitwhiletexting.
Me:Mypreferencesdon’texactlymatchupwithpromtrends,andthepeopleI’mwithdon’tcare.
Wes:Ah.Youwantflowers,pockets,andoldladyruffles,andtheywantyoutowearsomethinghot.
Whydidhistakeonmostthings—evenwhenhewasmockingme—makemelaugh?Ismiledandreachedfortheblackgown.Itwasshortinthefrontandlongintheback,withatopthattiedbehindtheneck.Iwasabouttostepintoitwhenmyphonebuzzed.
Wes:Don’tforgetthatwhiteisyourcolor,gurl.
Okay—thatmademelaughoutloud.Iglancedatthedresses,andtherewasawhiteoneinthere.Idroppedtheblackoneandreachedforit.Andwow.
Itwasactually…wonderful.
Itwasstrapless,withasimplesilkbodicethattaperedintoawhitebeadedbeltandalong,fullfloor-lengthskirt.Itwasstunninginthat75percentofthedresswassimpleandunderstated,andthenalongthebottomtherewasaburstofcolorfulwildflowers.
Ipullediton,suckingeverythinginasIslidthesidezipperintoplace.AndwhenIlookedatmyreflection—
Igrabbedmyphone.Youmightberight,Bennett.TheonlydressI’velikedsofariswhite.WTFiswithyounailingmyfashion?
Iliftedmyhairandturnedsidewaystoseetheback.Itwasreallyagloriousdress.AndwhenIranmyhandsdownthesides,Ifoundpockets.
Wes:Whydoyoueverdoubtme?
Me:Goodjudgment.Experience.
Wes:Pic,please.
“What?”Isaidittomyself,andanervoussnortcameoutofmeevenasIthoughtaboutthebestangle.God,whywasIthinkingthatwhenitwasWesasking?Imutteredastreamofobscenities—shit,shit,shit—undermybreathbeforefinallyrespondingwithUm,that’sabigno.
Wes:Okay,thensendmeapicofsomethingelsejustsoIfeelincluded.
Ilookedaroundthefittingroomforsomethingfunnytosendhim,andthenIthought—whatthehell?Itookapictureofthegowninthemirrorandtextedittohim.
HadIreallyjustdonethat?HadIreallyjustsentWesBennettamotherlovingpromdressselfie?Holyshiiii—
“Liz!Doyouhaveadresson?”Jocelynwasyellingfromherspotinthegallery.“Youneedtoletussee,becauseeventhoughthey’renotyourstyle,oneofthosewillwork,dangit.”
Idroppedmyphoneandwentouttothebigmirror.LikeitwasSayYestotheDressorsomething,JocelynandHelenabothgaspedandcoveredtheirmouthswiththeirhandswhenIsteppedinfrontofthem.Jocelyn’smomjustsmiled.
“Thatdresswasmadeforyou.”Jocelyncrossedherarms.“Pleasedon’ttellmethatyouhateit.Youcan’t.”
“Youlookincredible.”Helenawasonherfeet,smilinglikeshewasabouttogetteary-eyed.“Doyoulikeit?”
Ishrugged.“Ithaspockets.Andflowers.Iprettymuchhavetogetit,right?”
Ilookedatmyreflectioninthemirrorandknew—Ijustknew—thatmymotherwould’velovedthatdress.Shewould’vepickedoutthatdressforme.Heck,shewould’vewornthatdressherselfifshe’dhadreasontogoformal.Maybeshecouldn’tbethere,shoppingwithme,butfindingthatdresswassomething,right?
“Oh,Libby,Ican’twaitforyourdadtoseeyouinthis.”Helena’sheadwastiltedtothesideandshewassmiling,butherwordswerelikeabucketofcoldwater,joltingmebacktothemomlesspresent.BecausewhatHelenahadjustsaidwasexactlywhatmymotherwould’vesaidifshe’dbeenthere.Infact,Icouldperfectlyhearherliltingvoicesayingthosewords.
ButHelenawasn’tmymom,evenifshewassuddenlycallingmeLibbylikeshewas.
IcrossedmyarmsovermychestandneededtobeoutofthatdressSTAT.“I’mgoingtogochange.”
“Aren’tyouexcited?”Shegavemeasmart-assexcitedlookandafakefistpumpthatprobablywould’vecrackedmeupanhourago.“Youfoundyourdress.”
“Sure.”Iwatchedhersmilefalter,butIcouldn’tstopmyself.SomepartofmebelievedthatifIdidn’tpushback,shewasgoingtoerasethefactthatmymotherhadeverexisted.IthoughtaboutthewholedayHelenahadplanned.Ijustwantedtobealone.“I’mnothungry,bytheway,socanwejustgohomeafterthis?”
HelenaglancedatJocelynandhermom,whowerethankfullytalkingtoeachotherandnotpayingattentiontous,beforeshesaid,“Sure.Ifthat’swhatyouwant.”
AfterIchanged,insteadofjoiningtheothersbythebigmirror,ItookthedresstothecounterandpaidbeforeHelenahadthechance.WhenIjoinedthegroupwithmydressalreadybaggedupandhangingovermyarm,theyalllookedconfused.
“Youalreadyboughtit?”Jocelyn’seyeswerebigassheputthestrapofhercross-bodybagoverhershoulderandmutteredsarcastically,“Yeah,that’snotaweirdthingtodoatall.”
Iheldupthedressandpretendedeverythingwasfine.Ievensmiled.“Sincewehavetogobacktothelaststoreandgetyours,IthoughtI’dspeedthingsup.”
ShegavemealookthattoldmesheknewwhatIwasupto.“Goodthinking,Liz.”
Anawkwardvibehungoverthefourofusaswefake-happyconversedandwalkedtowardtheexit.Jocelynandhermotherknewwhatwasup,Helenaknewwhatwasupandalsoknewthattheothersknewwhatwasup,sowealljustdidourbesttopretendIhadn’tscreweduptheentireday.
Afterbucklingintothecar,IputinmyearbudsandquicklyqueuedupasongbeforeHelenacouldbringupwhat’dhappened.
ThenInoticedthemessageonmyphone.
Wes:Buythatdress.I’mbeggingyou.
Mystomachflipped.Icouldhearthosewordsbeingspokeninhisdeepvoice.Still,itwasWes.Surelyhedidn’tmeanitthewayitseemed.
Ifalteredovermyresponse,staringdownatthephoneinmyhandasvisionsofWesBennettdancedinmyhead.Istartedwritingmorethanone“cool”response,butthenIjustgaveintomypatheticneeds.
Me:Youlikeit?
Thebubblesappearedlikehewastyping,butafterafewminutestheydisappeared.Iwaited,andtheyfinallyappearedagain.
Wes:Michaelwillloveit.Trustme.
Istartedtorespond,like,fivedifferenttimesoverthecourseoftheday,butintheend,Isaidnothing.Becausewhatwastheretosay?I’dbeengettingalittlesuckedintoWes’sperformance,stumblingoverhischarm,buthisresponsehadremindedmeofmyendgame.
Me.Michael.
Prom.
Boom.CHAPTERTEN
“ButmostlyIhatethewayIdon’thateyou.Notevenclose,notevenalittlebit,notevenatall.”
—10ThingsIHateAboutYou
Wes:MovieatMichael’stomorrow.Areyoustillin?
IlookedupfrommyphonetomakesuretheteacherwasstilllecturingandnotlookingatmeasIbroketherules.MyfootaccidentallykickedJoss’schairinfrontofmeasIheldmyphonedownbymylapandtexted:Definitely.
Wes:I’llpickyouupat6sowecangrabfoodontheway.
Iglancedupforasecond.I’dbeengoingovermyrecentinteractionswithWesinmyhead,andIneededtoshoreupourboundaries.Allofournicemomentsasoflateweremuddyingthewaters,andIneededtokeepittogetherandfocusonmygoal.
ThelastthingIwantedwastomesseverythingupbyhavingasillyflirtationmisconstrued.It’snotadate,right?
Wes:Ewww,Liz.
Me:Justchecking.Can’thaveyougettingattached.
Wes:Ashardasthismightbetobelieve,I’mhavingnotroublefightingthefeels,younicelittleweirdo.
Thatmademesnortoutalittlelaugh.
“OhmyGod.”
Iglancedup,andJocelynwasturnedallthewayaroundinherchair,lookingatmewithahugegrinonherface.Shewhispered,“You’retextinghim,aren’tyou?”
Iclearedmythroat.“Who?”
“Youknowwho.”Sheglancedoverattheteacherbeforeturningbackandsaying,“Bennett.”
Iinhaledthroughmynosebeforesaying,“Yes,butwe’rejustflippingeachothershit.Totallyplatonicstuff.”
“Whenareyougoingtoadmitthatyoulikehim?I’mnotsayingit’sloveorwhateveryouwriteaboutinyoursecretdiary,butyougenuinelyenjoytheboy.”
“EnjoytheBoy.Bandname—calledit.”
“Damnyou.”Shegiggledandturnedbackaround.Anotherpointformeinthegamewe’dbeenplayingforoverayear.
Ilookedatthebackofherheadasthenow-familiarfeelingofguiltfilledmystomach.Imean,technicallyshewasn’twrong;IwasenjoyingWes.Inafriendway,hewasquicklybecomingoneofmyfavoritepeople
Butitwaskindofbotheringme,notknowingwhatwasgoingtohappenaftertomorrownight.Wouldwestillbefriendsoncethisallcametoanend?Didhehaveanyinterestinthatatall?
Myphonebuzzedatthatverysecond.AsifheknewIwasthinkingabouthim.
Wes:Meteorshowertonight,ifyou’reinterested.I’vegotSwishers,fyi.
Isqueezedmylipstogetherinanattemptnottosmile,butitwasnouse.
Me:Whocaresaboutmeteorshowers?Ifyoubringthecherryciggies,I’msothere.
Wes:You’resuchashit.Seeyouthere.
“IwasmerelyhidingitamongstyournerdbookssoIdidn’tgetcaught.Iwasn’tterrorizingyou.”
“Notbuyingit.”Iturnedmysticksothemarshmallowsrotatedinthefire.“Firstofall,youdidn’thavetodecapitatethelittlecherubthingyatall.Second,youputredpaintaroundthemouthandeyesandsettheheadupsoitwasstaringoutatanyone—namelyme—whodaredtoaccessthatlittlefreelibrary.”
“Iforgotaboutthepaint.”Hesmiledandputhisbigfeetuponthesideofthefirepit.“Maybetherewasalittleterroristicintention.”
“Youthink?”Iremovedthemallowsfromthefireandblewonthembeforepullingoneoffthestick.“Timehassoftenedyourmemoryofyouroldself.Youbelieve—unlessyou’restraight-upfaking—thatyouweresimplyarambunctiousboywithnoillwilltowardmeatall.Andthatiscategoricallyuntrue.”
HiseyesfollowedthesquishymallowthatIshovedintomymouth.AsIchewed,IrealizedthatIwascompletelyun-self-consciousaroundhim.InsteadofworryingthatIlookedlikeapig,Isaidthroughamouthfulofmarshmallow,“Admitit.”
Helookedatmefillingmymouthforanotherfewseconds.Thenhesaid,“Iwilldonosuchthing.Iwill,however,admitthatyouwerealotoffuntomesswith.Andstillare.”
“Well,Ididn’tenjoyitbackthen,butnow—nowIcantakeyousoit’scool.”
“Pleasestopwiththebigtalk.”Hegrabbedthebagofsnack-sizeHersheybars,unwrappedone,andtosseditmyway.“Youcannot—andwillnotever—takeme.Atleastnotwhenitcomestomessing.”
Icaughtthechocolateandsandwicheditwiththeothermarshmallowbetweentwograhams.Iwasholdingtheworld’smostperfects’more.“Yousureyoudon’twantmetomakeoneforyou?”
“No,thanks,butyourformisimpressive.”
“Notmyfirsttime,sunshine.”Ismiledandtookabigbite.“Mmm—sogood.”
Weschuckledhisdeepchuckleandlookedupatthestars.Hehadn’tpulledoutanycigarssinceI’dgottenthere,soIwasn’tsureifhewasnolongerinthemoodorifhewasholdingoffoutofcourtesyforme.He’dmadefunofmyarmfulofs’moresupplieswhenI’dshowedup,buthe’dalsoeatenabouttenofmytinyHersheybarssofar.
Iheardthefirstfewnotesof“ForrestGump”byFrankOceancomeoutofWes’sBluetoothspeaker,andIsmiled.Suchagreatsit-under-the-starssong.Ihummedalongwiththeintroandfeltspring-giddyasthelyricsdrippedovermelikestarlight.
Myfingertipsandmylips
Theyburnfromthecigarettes
“Whatareyourplansnextyear,Buxbaum?”Hewasstilllookingupatthesky,andmyeyeslingeredonhisprofile.Eventhoughhewasn’tmytype,thatstrongjaw,prominentAdam’sapple,andthickhairmadeapretty,prettypicture.
Iignoredtheknotinmystomachatthementionofnextyear.“UCLA.You?”
ThatmadehimlookoveratmelikeIwascrazy.“Seriously?”
“Um…yeah…?”
“WhyUCLA?”
Itiltedmyhead.“DoyouhaveaproblemwithUCLA?”
Hehadaweirdlookonhisface.“No.Notatall.Thatwasjust…reallyunexpected.”
Isquintedathiminthedarkness.“You’reactingreallyweirdaboutthis.”
“Sorry.”Hislipsslidupintoahalfsmile.“UCLAisagreatschool.Whatdoyouwanttostudy—unrealisticromanticfilms?”
Irolledmyeyesashegrinnedaself-satisfiedsmile.“Youthinkyou’refunnierthanyouactuallyare.”
“Idon’tthinkso.”Hegesturedwithhishandsformetogo.“Planofstudy,please.”
Iclearedmythroat.Ihatedruiningthenight’svibeswithtalkofcollege.TalkofnextyearalwaysleftmefeelingdevastatedbecauseIknewfirsthandhowfasteverythingchanged.Lifepressedforwardwithaburningvelocitythatleftallofthebeautifully-presseddetailsquicklyforgotten.
OnceIwentaway,nothingwouldeverbethesameagain.Mydad,thehouse,herrosebushes,ourdailytalks;thosethingswouldallbedifferentwhenIreturned.They’dfadeintothepastbeforeIevenhadachancetonotice,andtherewouldbenogettingthemback.
EvenWes.He’dbeentheresincethebeginning,livinghislifeparalleltomine,butnextyearitwouldbedifferent.
Forthefirsttime,hewouldn’tbenextdoortome.
Iclearedmythroatandsaid,“Musicology.”
“Soundsmadeup.”
“Right?”IfeltlikeIhadUCLA’scatalogueverbiagememorizedafterreadingitsomanytimes.“Butit’slegitandareally,reallygoodprogram.IcanminorinMusicIndustryandgetacertificationinMusicSupervision.”
“Whatjobdoyougetwiththataftercollege?”
“Iwanttobeamusicsupervisor.”UsuallywhenIsaidthat,Iwasmetwithascrewed-upfaceandtheone-syllableHuh?ButWesjustsatthere,listening.“ItbasicallymeansIwanttocuratemusicforsoundtracks.”
“Whoa.”Hegavehisheadalittleshake.“Firstofall,Ihadnoideathatwasathing.Butsecond—thatistheperfectjobforyou.Holyshit,youalreadydothatallthetime.”
“Yep.”Itookanotherbiteofmys’moreandlickedoffthemarshmallowdrippingontomyfingers.“Andyouhavenoidea;Ihaveshelvesfullofsoundtracknotebooks.Icannotwaittogetstarted.”
“Damn.”HegavemeaseriouslookthatIfeltinmybelly.HisvoicewassodeepinthedarkoftheSecretAreathatanythingotherthansillinessfeltintimate.“You’vealwayskindofdoneyourownthing,Liz,andit’scoolasshit.”
Wasitweirdthathiscomplimentsentwarmthfromthetipsofmytoesallthewaytothesquintofmyeyes?Allofthestresseswerepushedawaywiththatonecoolasshitcomment.“Thanks,Wes.”
“That’sWessytoyou.”
“Yeah,no.”
Themomentwasbroken,butthewarmthundermysternumremained,renderingmerelaxedandblissfullycontenttothoughtlesslyramble.“Whataboutyou?Where’severybody’sall-Americangoingtocollege?”
“Noidea.”Heleanedforwardandmovedthefirearoundwiththes’morestick.“Baseballisjustgettingstarted,soit’sstillupintheair.”
“Oh—soyouwanttoplayincollege?”
“Yes,ma’am.”
“Andyou’regoodenough…?”
“Yes,I’mgoodenough,Liz.”Hecoughedoutalaugh.“Well,Ihope.”
“Idon’tmeanthatasaslam,bytheway.I’vejustnevergonetoagame.Whatareyou,likeahitterorsomething?”
“Okay—wearenottalkingbaseballuntilyou’veactuallywatchedagame.Thatwaspathetic.”
“Iknow.”Ibroughtmylegsuptothechairandwrappedmyarmsaroundthem.“So,doyouthinkyou’llgoawaytoschoolorstaylocal?”
“Away.”Helookedintothefire,andtheshadowsfromtheflamesdancedonhisface.“I’vealreadyhadoffersfromschoolsinFlorida,Texas,Cali,andSouthCarolina,sowhywouldIwanttostayinNebraska?”
“Wow.”Howgoodwashe?AndeventhoughIwasplanningongoingaway,whydidthethoughtofWesnotbeinghere—foreverinthehousenextdoor—causeatinylittleheartpain?Istudiedthefireandaskedhim,“Doesn’tUNLhaveareallygoodbaseballteam?”
“Theydo—Ican’tbelieveyouknowthat,bytheway.”Hesmiledbutitdidn’treachhiseyesandhedidn’tlookawayfromthefire.“I’mjustreadytoleaveNebraskabehind.There’sreallynothinghereforme,y’know?”
“No,Idon’tknow.”Iunwrappedmyarmsfrommylegsandputmyfeetbackdownontheground,botheredbywhathe’djustsaid.“Ihateleavingitbehind,butmydreamsareallinCaliforniaorNewYork.”
Helookedatmethroughnarrowedeyes.“Areyoumad?”
“No.”Maybe?Irolledmyeyes.“Imean,youdoyou.Ijustdon’tunderstand—”
“Libby?”Myheadwhippedaroundatthesoundofmydad’svoice.Therehewas,standingintheclearinginhispajamapantsandDINKER’SHAMBURGERST-shirt,lookingatmeasifIwerebreak-dancingnakedontopofthefire.“WhatinGod’snameareyoudoingouthereateleventhirtyonaschoolnight?”
IthoughtbacktoWes’soriginalsneaking-outtext.“Icameouttoseethemeteorshower,andthenWesyelledoverthefenceformetocomeover.”
“Ooh—Iforgotaboutthemeteorshower.”HecameoverandsatontheemptychairbetweenWesandme,ploppingdownonthecushionbeforecasuallyrubbingthetopofhiscurlyhair.“Howisit?”
WesandIlookedateachotherthen,becauseneitherofushadreallyrememberedtheshoweroncewe’dgottenoutthere.Isaid,“It’sjustgreat.”
“Handmeamallow,willyou,sweetie?Ihaven’thadas’moreinyears.”
Wednesdaydraggedby,mostlybecauseIspentalldayobsessedwithtwothings.First,IwasstillbotheredbyWes’scommentthenightbefore.There’sreallynothinghereforme.Whywouldhesaythat?Didhereallyfeelthatway?Istilldidn’tknowthatmuchabouthiswhole,biglife,butforsomereasonthathurtmyfeelings.
MaybeitwasbecauseI’dbeenhavingfungettingtoknowhim,andI’dthoughthefeltthesameway.
ButwhenIforcedmyselftostopdwellingonthat,Igotsuperexcitedaboutthenighttocome.AsIlistenedtoMr.Cooneydroneonintrig,IdecidedIwasgoingtowearthegreentopI’dboughtwithWesandstraightenmyhair.I’dactuallytoldJossaboutit—yay,trickyhonesty—soIwasabletogetheropiniononmyoutfit.
WhileMrs.AdamsencouragedtheclasstoexploreourinnerwritersinLit,Ipoppedinmyearbudsandexploredmyinnerdaydream.Iput“Electric”byAlinaBarazandKhalidonrepeat,theperfectsongtoaccompanymyimaginingsoftheevening.
Darkerthantheocean,deeperthanthesea
Yougoteverything,yougotwhatIneed
Only,thesongkeptmakingmethinkofWesinsteadofMichael,whichfrustratedthecrapoutofme.NomatterhowmanytimesIstartedthinkingaboutwhatthenightwouldbring,mybrainflippeditandIwasthinkingaboutdinnerwithWes.
BecauseI’dnevereatenanactualmealwithhim.Well,notsinceourmomshadgivenusbothhamsandwichesattheParkviewHeightsannualneighborhoodpicnic,butthatdidn’tcount,justlikeours’moreslastnightdidn’tcounteither.
Didheeatalot?Didhegoalldateyandpulloutchairsforhisfemaledinnerpartners?
Itdidn’thelpthatJossthoughtIwasexcitedaboutgoingoutwithWes.Allthroughlunch,IbabbledabouthowIwasgoingtodomymakeup,andhercollusionmadeitkindoffeellikeIwasexcitedaboutgoingoutwithWes.
Mylackofsleepthenightbeforewasclearlymakingmeconfused.
Assoonasthefinalbellrang,Inearlyrantothecar.MyphonebuzzedasIwalkedacrosstheparkinglot.
Wes:Okay—weirdquestion.
Me:Allquestionsfromyouareweird.
Wes:Ignoringthat.ActuallyIhavetwoquestions.First—didIpissyouofflastnight?
Kindof,butIdidn’twantittospoiltheimpendingeveningsoIrespondedwith:Nope.
Wes:Liar.Tellme.
Likehereallywantedtoknow.Hejustwantedtoleaveitallbehindbecausetherewasnothinghereforhim.Irolledmyeyesandtexted:Getonwithyourquestion,Bennett.
Wes:Fine.Doyoulikedivebarswithgoodfood?Ikindafeellikeyou’retoorufflyforgreasyburgersonnapkins.
Iunlockedmycarandopenedthedoor.Thankyouforcallingmeruffly,butI’mactuallyashamelesscarnivorewho’dsellhersoulforagoodburger.
Wes:ThankGod.I’mjonesingforStella’sandIthoughtyoumightnotbedownforit.
He’djustbumpedthealready-appealingnightuptowonderfullymouthwatering.IfreakingLOVEStella’s!
Wes:I’llpickyouupat6.AndFYI—“ruffly”wasn’tacompliment.
Ismiledandgotintomycar.Sureitwasn’t.
WhenIgothome,Iditchedmyschooloutfit—asupercutedressthatwascoveredinbrightredpoppies—andtookasecondshower.AftershooingFitzoffmyclothes,Iblow-driedandspentaneternitystraighteningthehairthatwasn’tmeanttobeanythingotherthankinky-curly.Ieventookextratimegettingmyeyelinertailsonpoint.
BythetimeWestextedthathewasabouttoringmydoorbell,IfeltlikeIlookedprettygoodinanI-look-like-everyone-elsekindofway.Iquicklytextedhim:Don’tring.I’llbeoutinoneminute.
Wes:Ifeellikeyou’reashamedofme.
Me:Isoam.
Wes:Wellifyouaren’toutinthirtyseconds,I’mgoingtostarthonkingthehorn.
Ithrewopenmybedroomdoorandrandownthehallway,zippingmycross-bodybagasIflewdownthestairs.
“Ooh—someone’sinahurry.”
IstoppedatthebottomofthestepsandlookedoveratHelena,whowasreadingabookonthelivingroomsofaandsmilingatmeasifIwereentertaining.Thingshadbeensuperawkwardsincedressshopping,butthenyesterdayitwaslikeshe’ddecidedtoforgetit.She’dpickeduppizzafordinnerandactedlikemyassholeryhadneverhappened.ThankGod,becauseIreallyfeltbadbutwasn’tsurehowtoapologizewithoutelicitingfurtherdiscussion.
Isaid,“IalreadytoldDadthatI’mgoingtoMichael’swithWes.Formovies.Youweren’thomeyetwhenwetalkedaboutit.”
Sheturnedthebookoverandsetitontheendtable.“Hetoldme.So…WesisstillhelpingyoulandtheMichael,then?”
Icouldtotallyreadonherfacethatshethoughttherewassomethinggoingon—emotionally—withWes.“Yep.”
Shelookedatherwatch.“It’sawfullyearlyformovienight,isn’tit?”
“WesandIaregoingtoStella’sbeforewegooverthere.”Ididn’tsmile,butIfeltlikeshecouldseethechangingtruthinmyeyes.Iwaitedforacomment.
“Well,isn’tthatjusttasty?”Shegrinned,andwekindofhadawholeconversationwithourfacesbeforeIsaid—
“Whatever,dork.”Iranahandovermysmoothhairandsaid,“You’rejustjealousthatI’mgoingtoStella’sandyouaren’t.”
“God,Iwouldlickthefloorforoneofthoseburgersrightnow.”
Ilaughed.“Igetthat.”
“Seriously.IfsomeonesaidIcouldhaveaStellaburgerthisveryminuteifIlickedthekitchenfloor,Itotallywould.”
ThatmademesnortandIasked,“Doyouwantmetobringonebackforyou?”
“OhmyGod,yes,please!”Sheleaptupandrantoherpurseonthecounter.“Areyouserious?”
“Yes—”IstartedtoanswerwhenIheardthefirsthonk.Oh,goodLord,Weswashonking.“I’mserious.Butit’llbeprettycoldbythetimewe’rehome.”
ItfeltgoodtodosomethingforheraftertheweirdnessonMonday,butIkindofwishedshe’dcomerightoutandaskedmetogetherone.Didshefeellikeshecouldn’t?Ifeltbadifthatwasthecase,andtherewasaverylargepartofmethatwishedwewerecloser.
Iwassuchaconflictedmess.
Shepulledoutatwentyandshoveditinmydirection.“Don’tcare.Getmeadoublehamburgerwitheverythingonit.”
“Nowaycanyoueatallofthat.”
“Bet.”
IshookmyheadasItookhermoney.“I’llbehomebyeleventhirtyortwelve,’kay?”
“Begood,kid.”
Weslaidonthehornthen,andHelenasaid,“He’sdoingthatonpurpose,isn’the?”
Iglancedatherovermyshoulder,picturingWespushingmeintotheseatthatensuredIwassittingnexttoMichaelintheminivan.“I’mprettysurehedoeseverythingonpurpose.”
IranoutthedoorandgotintoWes’scar.“Ican’tbelieveyouhonked.”
“Youcan’t?”HesmiledoveratmeandwaitedwhileIbuckledmyseatbelt.“It’slikeyou’venevermetme.Niceshirt,bytheway.”
“Thanks.”Ibuckledandtuckedmyhairbehindmyears.“Someonetoldmethatgreenismysecond-bestcolor.”
“Thatmakessense,withyourredhairandall.”
Irolledmyeyesagain.“Thatisn’tathing.”
“Howcanyounotknowtherules?Imean,Style101.”
“Andyouwouldknowthishow,Mr.Jockshop?”
“BecauseI’msmart.”Hismouthslidintoasmirkasheputthecarinreverseandbackedoutofthedriveway.“Obviously.”
“Andyoudothiswhy?”Wesasked.
IsmiledasIwrotemyinitialswithketchuponthenapkin,encirclingthemwithabigheart.“Tradition.Growingup,wheneverwecamehere,IalwayswrotethingswithketchuponthenapkinswhileIwaitedforourfood.”
“That’sweird.”
“No,itisn’t.”Isurroundedthebigheartwithsmallerhearts.“Youhavetotryitandsee.There’ssomethingaboutthesquirtyketchuptipthatmakesitgreat.”
“Um,I’mgood,butthanks.”
“OhmyGod,you’retoocooltowritewithketchup?”
“Well,yeah—forsureIam.”Hereachedacrossthetableandtookthecondimentfrommyhand.“Butforthesakeofbeingagooddinnerpartner,Iwilltryyourchildishpastime.”
“Good.”Ipulledsomenapkinsoutofthedispenserandlaidthemonthetableinfrontofhim.“Anditisn’twasting,becauseyoucandipyourfriesinit.”
“Idon’tlikeketchuponmyfries.”
“Idon’tevenunderstandyou,Wes.”
Hestartedmakingsomethingonthenapkin,andInoticedthatWheelofFortunewasontheTVbehindthebarasTomJones’scoverof“Kiss”waftedoutfromtheantiquatedjukebox.Stella’swasagreasybarthathadformerlybeenahouse,andeventhoughtheyservedthehamburgersonnapkinsandtheplacewasentirelylackinginatmosphere,youconsideredyourselfluckyifyouwereabletogetatableduringthelunchrush.
Mycityappreciatedagoodburgerandhand-cutfries.
Ilookedbackathisnapkin,andhe’dtotallydrawnacartoonydude.Itwasafaceinketchup,waybetterthanthechildishlettersI’dmade.“Sohowwasbaseballtoday?”
Hekeptworkingwiththeketchup.“Whyareyouaskingmethat?”
Iwatchedhisfaceasheconcentrated.Thelengthofhisdarklasheswastotallyunfair.“BecausenowIknowit’simportant.Like,notjustahobby.So…didyouhitahomer?Orbuntadinger?”
Hislipsturnedup.“Stopit.”
“Orareyouapitcher?Didyouslideacurveball?”
“Youhavetostop,Buxbaum.”Hegavemeagoodsmile,andIcurledmytoesinmyfunkybrownbooties.“Eitherlearnaboutthegame,orneverspeakofitagain.”
Thewaitressappearedwithourfood(andHelena’sinato-gobox),andwewerealikeinthatourwholefocusturnedtothegreasyofferings.Nomoresmalltalk,nomorebanter.Oureyeswereforfoodonly.
“OhmyGodthisissogood.”Iswallowedmyfirstbiteofburgerandreachedformysoda.“Godblessyouforbringingmehere.”
“Iselfishlywantedit.You’rejustcollateraldamage.”
“Don’tevencare.”Idippedtwofriesandshovedthemintomymouth.“Allthatmattersisthatmymouthhasthesedelightsinsideit.”
“Eww.”
Thatmademesnort.“Right?”
“Don’tbesnortingwhileyoueat.Ifyouaspiratefood,youcouldgetalunginfectionanddie.”
Iswallowed.“Ihavenoideahowtorespondtothatstatement.”
Hesaid,“?‘Thankyousomuch,Wessy,forlookingoutforme.’Thatisaperfectresponse.”
Igrabbedanotherfry.“Thankyousomuch,Wessy,forentertainingmewithyourinaneconversationwhileweeat.Thisisdefinitelynotboring.”
“Well,that’sgood.”
“Isn’tit,though?”
Wegotquietwhileweate,butitwasacomfortablequiet.Iwaslostinthefooduntilhesaid,“Don’ttakethisthewrongway,butyoueatlikeaman.”
“Sexistmuch?”
“Letmerephrase.”Heclearedhisthroat,wipedhishandsonhisnapkin,heldupafinger,andcontinuedwith,“Society—wrongly—expectsaprettygirltoeatasaladandpickatherfood,butyouwolfdownaburgerlikeapersonwho’sbeenstarvedforweeks.Andprobablyraisedbywolves.”
Itwasridiculousthathisusageoftheword“pretty”setmynervesonedge.HethoughtIwaspretty?“Ilikefood.Sueme.”
Hesatbackalittleinhischairandcrackedtheknucklesonhislefthand.“Sowhat’syourplantonight?HowareyougoingtowinoverMikeyifIgetyouaone-on-one?”
Recordscratch—Weswasaknuckle-cracker,wasn’the?
Knuckle-crackingwasoneofthosethingsthatIwouldn’tcallapetpeeveofmine,butwheneverIheardthatsound,Iimmediatelyjoltedintoadoglikesenseofalert,lookingaroundtoseewherethesoundwascomingfrom.Itusuallysetmeonedge.
“Well,”Isaid,wipingmymouthwithanapkinbeforereachingforanotherFrenchfry.“I’mgoingtogivehimtheone-twopunch.First,I’llstartbyhittinghiminthesentimentals,bringingbackthecicadasongsofhischildhoodwithmysoul-strokingreminiscing.”
“Notbad,”hesaid,andcrackedtheknucklesonhisrighthand.“Strokingisalwaysawinner.”
Ilookedathishalfsmileandwonderedwhyhisknuckle-crackingseemedright.Like,itsomehowwentwithhisfaceorsomething.“Youknow,IthinkI’llkeeptheresttomyself.”
“Oh,comeon.”Hereachedoutahandandtuggedatthetendrilofhairbymyfacethatstubbornlyrefusedtostraighten.“I’llbegood.”
Whydidhisphysicalnatureandthewayhehadnoproblemwithclosecontact—thehairtousles,thetugs,thenudges—alwaysmakemystomachgowild?Ismackedhishandandgrabbedoneofhisfries,sayingaverycalm“No,thankyou.”
Butinside,Iwasfreakingthefreakout.WhatinGod’snamewashappening?Knuckle-crackingwasproventobringonthatickythis-one-is-not-right-for-mefeeling;italwaysdid.Itwasastraight-upejectbuttonfromanypotentialromanticrelationship.ButthereIwas,scantfeetawayfromWesandhisknuckles,andIalmostfoundhishabittobe…endearing?Like,hekindoflookedadorablewhenhesmiledandcracked?
Thiswasvery,verywrong.
Because(A)Weswasthewrongguy,(B)mymotherhadwarnedmeaboutfallingforguyslikehim,and(C)hehadnointerestinmeatall,hencetheThere’sreallynothinghereformecommentthenightbefore.WhatonearthwasIdoingwithmyemotions?
“OhmyGod,youbeatme.”
“What?”Ilookedaround,unsureofwhathewastalkingabout.
Heswallowedandgrabbedanapkin.“Youfinishedyourfoodalready.”
Hewasright.Ilookedfrommyplate—completelycleansaveforsomesmallgreasepuddles,ketchupsmears,andtinygrainsofsalt—tohis,whichstillheldthreebitesofburgerandasmallgroupingoffries.“So?”
“Soholyshit,youeatfast.”
“Orholyshit,youeatlikeanoctogenarian.”
Thatmadehiseyessquint.“Wanttherestofmyfries?”
Ilookedatthegreasy,hand-cutfries.“You’renotgoingtoeatthem?”
Heshovedtheplasticbowloffriestowardme.“Thislittleoldmanisfull.”
Igrabbedfourfriesanddunkedthemintohisketchup.“Well,then,thankyou,grandpa.”
AsIwolfeddownthosefries,itwasimpossibleformetoignorethefactthatIwasinnohurryfordinnertoend.I’dbeenhavingfunwithWes.I’dbeensmilingtheentiretime(whenIwasn’trollingmyeyes)—andevenknowingMichaelwaswaiting,Iwasn’treadytogo.
Butitwasjustbecausethingsweresoeasybetweenus—thatwaswhathadconfusedme.Ourfriendshipwassocomfortablethatitmuddiedthewaters.
Boom.
ItmademethinkofWhenHarryMetSally.Minustheending-up-togetherpart.
“Doyouthinkmenandwomencanbefriends,Bennett?”
Hepickeduphiswater.“Sure.Imean,weare,aren’twe?”
“Iguesswekindofare.”Iwasplayingitcool—hehadnoideawhathisfriendshipoverthepastweekmeanttome.Ihadn’trealizediteither,tobehonest,butthefactthatwe’dhadsomeseriouslyincredibleconversationsthatcenteredonmymothermadeitdifferentfromeveryotherrelationshipinmylife.
“Weird,right?”Hetookadrink,hiseyesneverleavingmeasheswallowed.“Youneverthoughtthatshitwouldhappen,didyou?”
“Forsureno.”Iswallowedthebiteoffriesandreachedformore.“Butalotofpeoplesayitdoesn’twork.That—”
“IsthistheHarry-Sallything?”
“Howdoyouknowaboutthat?”
“Mymomlovesthatmovie.I’veseenitafewtimes.”
“Afewtimes?See?Iknewyoulikedrom-coms!”
“Oh,fortheloveofGod,no.”HeshookhisheadlikeIwasridiculous.“IjustlikeBillyCrystal.IfhecanbeMikeWazowski,hecanbeanybody.It’safunnymovieandthatisall.”
“Andyoudon’tthinkhe’sright?Thefactthattheygettogetherintheendprettymuchproveshistheory,yeah?”
“Maybe.Idon’tknow.”Hedidalittleshrugthingthatmademenoticehisshoulders.Damnyou,Helena.Hesaid,“Ithinkhehassomevalidpoints,butit’sirrelevantforus.”
“Itis?”
“Sure.”Hescratchedhischeekandsaidsupermatter-of-factly,“We’retheexceptionbecauseI’mnotyourfriend—I’myourlittlelovefairygodfather.”
“Thatsoundsgross.”Imadethejoke,butIdidn’tlikethathe’dsaidhewasn’tmyfriend.
Heignoredthejokeandsaid,“It’strue,though.We’relikefriends,fornow,butthefairygodfatherisallabouthelpingyougetwhatyouwant.Oncethemagicstartshappening,hedoesn’tstickaroundforthefairy-taleending.Imean,howcreepywouldthatbe?”
“Reallycreepy?”Ifake-laughed,likewewereonthesamepage.ButwashesayingthatifIendedupwithMichael,thenwewouldn’tbefriendsanymore?Thatwereallyweren’tfriendsatallnow,butmerelyrole-playersmakingmywishhappen?
Itmadesenseafterwhathe’dsaidlastnight.
“That’sright,Buxbaum.”Hereachedacrossthetableandtouchedthetipofmynose—aboop—withhisfinger.“Creepyashell.”
Iwasstrugglingtokeepup,toprocesswhathewassayingandwhatitmeantforus,whilealsooveranalyzingthefactthatevenafinger-boopmademystomachgowild,whenhismouthturnedintoasmirkandhesaid,“NowfinishthosefriessowecangetyoutoyourMichael.”
“Done.”Ishovedthelastfryintomymouthandpushedbackmychair,needingtogetoutintosomefreshairbeforemybrainexploded.“Let’sgo,fairygodfather.”CHAPTERELEVEN
“Ifyoulookforit,I’vegotasneakyfeelingyou’llfindthatloveactuallyisallaround.”
—LoveActually
“Hey,it’sMrs.PotatoHead!”
IfollowedWesthroughthekitchendoorandsmiledwhenIsawAdamstandingatthecenterisland,loadingupaplatefullofPizzaRolls.Igavehimachin-nodandsaid,“It’sme.”
“Yourfacelookswaybetter,bytheway.You’reveryun-potatoeynow.”
“Gee,thanks.”
“Noahfeltlikeshitaboutbreakingyourface,somakesureyoumakehimfeelextrabad.”HepickeduphisplateandgrabbedacanofCoke.“Hedeservesit.”
WesandIwentintothelivingroombehindhim,anditwasclearwewerethelastonesthere.Theroomwasfilledwithmostlythesamepeoplefromthebasketballgame,plusthreeothers.Ashley,thegirlwho’dpukedonme;Laney(ugh);andAlex,theonewholikedWes.
Talkaboutanightmarishtrifectaofpeople,right?
“Liz,Iamsosorryaboutyournose.”NoahwassittingonthesofabetweenAlexandAshley,andhepointedatmyface.“Itlooksgoodnow,though.”
Thatmademesmile.“Thanks.Anddon’tworryaboutit.”
Adamsaid,“Comeon,PotatoHead—youhadonejob.”
“Iknow,andI’msorry.”
“Oh,hey,Liz!”Laney,whowasstretchedoutintherecliner,smiledoveratus.“Ididn’tknowyouguyswerecoming.”
Mybrainmockedherinahigh-pitched,MuppetBabieskindofvoicebeforeIjustsaid,“Yeah.”
“Hey,guys.Snacksareinthekitchenandthemovie’sabouttostart.”Michaelpoppedupfromwherehewaslyingonthefloorandgaveusasmallwave.
“That’sgood,”Wessaidfrombehindme.“BecauseIthinkLiz’sprobablygettinghungry.”
“Haha.”Iturnedaround,andhisfacedidthatthingtomystomachagain,whichpissedmeoffbecausehedidn’teventhinkofmeashisfriend.“Ieatalot;you’rehilarious.”
“Iknow.”
Therewasn’tawayformetoremovemyselffromWeswithoutcausingweirdness,sowesattogetheronthefloor,andeveryonegotquietasthemoviestarted.Itwasthisreallyintensethriller,andeveryonewassilentsotheywouldn’tmissoutonanythingimportant.ButIcouldn’tconcentrateonthemoviebecauseIwastryingtofigureoutwhyWeswasmakingmeirrationallyemotional.
Ialsocouldn’tconcentratebecausemythighwastouchingWes’sthigh.
Webothhadourlegsstretchedoutinfrontofusasweleanedbackonourpalms;nothingwasintimateaboutourposition.Butit’slikethespotwheremyrightouterthightouchedhisleftouterthighwasinflamedandIcouldn’tignoreit.Everytinymoleculeofmyexistencewasfocusedonthatonesolitaryspot.
Wasitwarminthathouse?
Myeyeswatchedasamanonthetelevisionwasmurderedbyaserialkillerwhojammedtheman’sheadintothepropellerofaboatmotor,butmymindwasonWes.WesandthefactthatifheandIwerereclinedalittlemore,like,restingbackonourelbows,allhe’dhavetodowasleanhisbodyalittleinmydirection,sohewashoveringoverme,andwe’dbeperfectlyalignedforhimtokissme.
He’dlookdownatmylipswiththosedarkeyesandhewouldvisiblyswallowwiththatprominentAdam’sapplethatforsomereasonalwaysdistractedme,andthen—
“Buxbaum.”
“Huh?”Iturnedmyheadtotherightandlookedathim,atinybitgaspyandfeelinglikeI’dbeenwokenfromadream.WhatthehellwasIdoing?
Myfacewashotasheleanedalittlecloser,towherehisshouldernudgedmine.Hegavemeasquinty-eyedsmirkandwhispered,“I’malittleuncomfortablewiththelevelofattentionyoujustgavetothatslashing.Idon’tthinkyoublinked.”
Iblinkedthen,mycheeksgettingevenhotter—ifthatwaspossible—ashewhisperedtomeinthedark.MymouthcurledupintoasmilethatIhadnocontrolover,andIwhisperedback,“Quitwatchingme,creeper.”
Andthenthemomentjuststopped.
Paused.
Held.
Hissmirkdisappearedandhisfaceturnedintense.HisjawflexedandIcouldhardlybreatheasIlookedbackathim,myheartpoundingasIletmyselfbeobviousandlookathismouthforthequickestofseconds.
Hismouththatwasjustsoincrediblyclosetomine.
WhenIbroughtmyeyesbacktohis,Iknewwithoutadoubtthatifwewereanywhereelse—alone—hewouldkissme.Heswallowed,andmyeyestrackeddowntohisthroatbeforeslowlyclimbingbackupbywayofhisstrongchin,nose,anddark-as-nightbrowneyes.
Heraisedoneeyebrow,anunspokenquestion,andIrealizedatthatmomentthatIwantedit.IwantedWes.Michaelhadbeenmyendgame,butIcouldn’tbringmyselftocareaboutthatanymore.
Iwouldn’trunthroughatrainstationforMichael.ButIwoulddoitforWes.
Holyshit.
Iraisedmyrightshoulderinashrugthatnudgedhisshoulder,atouchofmycottonagainsthisfleece.
“Scootover.”Noahploppeddownbesidemeandsaid,“I’mgoingdeafsittingbetweenthosescreamers.”
Nooo!
IsatupandmovedahairclosertowardWes,carefulnottolookathimasIshiftedover.Themomenthadbeenbroken,andpartofmewasdisappointedthatwe’dbeeninterrupted,whiletheotherpartwasembarrassedandutterlycluelessaboutwhetherwhatIthoughthadjusthappenedhadactuallyhappenedatall.
IstaredblanklyattheTVforwhatseemedlikeaneternitybeforeIheardWeswhisper,“I’mgoingtogetadrink.Youwantone?”
Itookadeepbreath—pleasedon’tbemocking—andturnedtofacehim.Butinsteadofthesmart-assexpressionthatwasWes’sdefault,hegavemeadevastatinglyhopefulsmileashewaitedformyresponse
IswallowedandfelttremblyasIsmiledbackathim.“That’dbegreat.Thanks.”
“DietCoke,right?”
Inoddedandhadtoconcentrateonnotsweatingafterhegotupandlefttheroom.
Whatintheactualthehell?
WhenIcamebackfromtherestroom,Wesstillhadn’treturnedtohisspotonthefloor.Iglancedaroundthedarklivingroombeforenoticingthathewasoutonthedeck.Atfirst,Icouldn’ttellwhohewastalkingto,butthenIsawitwasAlex.
Talkaboutaglassofcoldwatertotheface.
Hewasouttherewiththeprettygirlthatheknewlikedhim,whileIwasfeelingnear-vomitousovertheconfusingthingsIwasthinkingaboutmynext-doorneighbor.Talkaboutayawningchasm.
Ignawedonmylipandsquinted,tryingtoseethembetter.He’dsaidhewasn’tinterestedinher,andIbelievedhe’dmeantit,butthatdidn’tmeanitcouldn’tchange,right?AndwhatifI’dbeenmisreadingeverylittlethingbetweenWesandmetobeginwith?Mylittlefairygodfathermightonlybeinterestedinfindingloveforme,notwithme,right?
HadIcompletelyimaginedthemomentonthefloor?
Itookmyspotandwatchedtherestofthemovie,butmyattentionwasnowonthetwopeopleIcouldseeinmyperiphery.Whatweretheytalkingabout?Whyweretheyoutthere?Itotallylostfocusandwashappywhenthemovieendedandtheycameinside.
Ineededtogetmyheadstraight.
Thepeoplearoundmestartedtalkingtoeachother,andIfeltawkwardandoutofplace.AndImissedJocelyn.Wetextedeveryday,likealways,butIhadn’tspentanyqualitytimewithherlately.Beingwithallthesepeoplewhowereclosefriendswitheachothermademehomesickforher;IneededtogooverthereafterIgothome.
Infact,itwasprobablytimeformetocomecleantoheraboutthewholething.
“DidyouknowthatMichael’sfatherhasagrandpiano?”Weslookeddownatmefromwherehe’dperchedhisbigselfonthebackofthesofaandheldoutahandtohelpmeup.“It’supstairsinanacousticallydesignedroom.”
Igrabbedhishandandclimbedtomyfeet,andohsweetLord,itfeltlikeaMr.-Darcy-hand-flex-from-the-best-version-of-Pride-&-Prejudicemoment.Theworldstoppedspinningforjustasecondwhenhisbighandwrappedaroundmine.
Butthen,justasfast,thespinningreturned,andIwasface-to-facewithWesandallofmyconfusion.Ilookedathisface—andthenatMichael,whoIhadn’tevennoticeduntilthen—andrealizedtheywerewaitingforaresponsefromme.
Towhat,again?Whatwaswords?Howwastalk?
“Wow.”Dad.Piano.Room.Gotit.“Forreal?”
“Ithinkhe’sconvincedhecould’vebeenaclassicalpianistifhe’dhadthatroomatayoungerage.”Michaelcrossedhisarmsandsaid,“He’sobsessedwithit.”
“OurLittleLizplayspiano.”WesgavemealookandsaidtoMichael,“She’sreallygood.”
Isaid,“No,I’mnot—”
JustasMichaelsaidtome,“Doyouwanttoseeit?”
Iblinked.“Iwouldloveto.”
“Well,then,followme,MizLiz.”
MichaelwalkedovertothestairsandIfollowed,butIalmosttrippedwhenIglancedbehindmeandsawthatWeswasn’tcomingwithus.HewaslaughingatsomethingAdamwassaying,soItookadeepbreathandproceededupstairs,overwhelmedbymythoughtsasIclimbedthesteps.
Wasthissomesortofasignal?ByliterallyhandingmeofftoMichael,wasthathisfigurativewayofhandingmeoffandwalkingaway?
Gosh,itprobablywould’vebeenfunnyifitwerehappeningtosomeoneelse.HerewasmybeautifulMichael,invitingme—andnotLaney—toseeadream-come-truemusicroom,andIjustwantedhimtogoawaysoIcouldbewithWes.
Wasthatokay?Iwashavingtroublekeepingupwithmyself.
Howwouldmymotherhavewrittenthispart?Wouldshehaveseenthegoodinthe“badboy”andtwistedtheplot?
Dammit.
Stopthinking,Liz.
“Whereareyourparents?”Iclearedmythroatandshutdownmyinnerthoughts.“Ihaven’tseenthemin,like,amillionyears.”
“Theywenttoamovie,”Michaelsaidashetookthestairstwoatatime.“Butmymomwouldlovetoseeyou.”
Whenwereachedthetopofthestairs,heledmetoacloseddoorthatlookedlikeitbelongedtojustanotherbedroom.Hepusheditopen,and…
“OhmyGod.”
Theroomhadashinywoodfloor,andathickrugsatunderneaththebabygrandpianothatwasturneddiagonallyononesideofthespace.Hestartedtellingmeaboutreflection,diffusion,andabsorption,abouthowthedecorationsintheroomwerestrategicallyplacedforbetter-qualitysound,butIcouldn’tlistentohim.
Thatpianowassobeautiful.Iwalkedoverandsatdownonthebench.Iwantedtoplayit—badly—butclearlythiswasabigdealtohisdad,andIwasachumpplayer.WeslikedtoactlikeIwasgoodbecauseIwastheonlypersonouragewhostilltooklessonsonceaweek,butIwasdecentatbest.
Ilovedthepiano,though.Iloveditsomuch.Iwassuremymom’sobsessionwiththeinstrumenthadsomethingtodowithit,buttherewasalsonothingquitelikeclosingmyeyesandjustlosingmyselfinasongI’dplayedahundredtimesbefore,tweakingthetempoandpassionandlisteningtoseeifIcouldheartheminutedifferencesI’dattemptedtocreate.
“Youcanplayit,Liz,”Michaelsaid,walkingovertothedoorandclosingit.“Mydadhadtheroominsulatedsonoonedownstairscanhearyouplayingifthedoor’sclosed.”
“It’stoonice—Ican’t.”Theblackpianodidn’thaveaspeckofdustonit.Howwasthatpossible?“Andit’syourdad’sinstrument—nooneelseshouldtouchit.”
“He’sbeenfixingtoplayitbuthasn’tsincewemovedhere—goahead.”
Ipushedbackthekeyboardcover,clearedmythroat,andsaid,“Preparetobeunderwhelmed.”
Michaelgrinned.“Considermeprepared.”
IsmiledandstartedplayingthebeginningofAdele’s“SomeoneLikeYou,”rememberingWestellingmetoaddittooursoundtrackafterourphoneconversationonthenightwhenmynosegotsmashed.
Michael’smouthturnedupintoagrin.“Youhaveitmemorized?”
“It’sreallyeasy,actually.”Ifeltawkwardasmyfingersranoverthekeys.“It’smostlyafour-chordloop.Anyonecouldplayit.”
“PrettysureIcouldn’t.”
Myeyeswentuptohisasheleanedagainstthepiano,lookingdownatme.Hewassohandsome,withthesamesmilehe’dfirstcharmedmewithingradeschool,butIcouldn’tstopwonderingwhatWeswasdoingdownstairs.Iwasbarelyintothesongwhenthedoorflewopenandtherewaseveryone…exceptWesandAlex
Myhandsjumpedintomylap,andIfeltliketheworld’sbiggestdork.Wes’sfriendslookedatme,andI’msuretheythoughtIwasaweirdoforplayingpianowheneveryoneelsewashangingout.
Anditwasobvioustheyallhungoutalot,becausetheentiregroupjustpickedupwherethey’dleftoffdownstairs,talkingandlaughingliketheywerebestfriends.
Laneycameoverandstoodbesidethepiano,sayingtome,“Ican’tbelieveyoucanplaylikethat.”
“Ithoughttheroomwassoundproof.”
“It’sinsulated.”MichaelsaidittobothmeandLaney.“Youcan’thearitdownstairs,butyoucanfromthehallway.”
“Ah.”Ifeltsilly,seatedatthatpiano.
“YourAdelewasawesome.”
“It’sasupereasysong.”LikeIneedyourcompliments,Laney.“Butthanks.”
“ItwasstillgreatandI’mjealous.”HereyesmovedtoMichaelwherehestoodonmyright,andherfacekindofgotprettierasshesmiledathim.Maybeitwasbecausemynighthadgonecompletelyoffcourse,butherexpressionmademefeelalittlebadforher.Thatlookonherface,whatitsaid?Icouldrelate.
Itoldher,“Iseriouslycouldteachittoyouinanhour.It’ssonothing.”
“Seriously?”Shecrossedherarmsandgavemewideeyes.“Youcould?”
Wesfinallyappearedinthedoorway,withAlextrailingrightbehindhim,andhesaid,“Weshouldorderapizza.”
“Ooh—I’min,”Alexsaid,andIfeltatightnessinmysternumasshesmiledatWes.Helookeddownatherandsmiledrightback.Hewasgivingherhisbestsmile,theonethatwasfunbutalsowarmandhappy,andIgrittedmyteethassheflippedherhairandasked,“Butfromwhere?”
Andthen—Weslookedatme.
Itwasfleeting,barelyevenaglance,buthisgazemetmineforabriefsecondandIfeltitinmyeverynerveending.Whatwashedoing?Washestilltryingtowingmanme,aftereverything?
“Zio’s,”Noahsaid,andheandtheothersstartedfollowingWesandAlexoutoftheroomanddownthestairs.Istaredattheemptydoorway,unabletothinkaboutanythingotherthanWesandthatscorchinglookandtheunfortunateproximityofAlex.
Youjustate,Wes—whatareyouevendoing?
Alexwaslovely,andI’dthoughtthey’dbeagoodmatchwhenI’dinitiallyheardofherfeelings,butnowIthoughtthatshewasalittletooseriousforhim.Imeansure,sheseemedfunenough,butcomparedtoWes’stotaldisregardforanythingmature,shewasabitstoic.
Besides,WesandIhadhadamomentdownstairs,dammit.
Right?OrhadIimaginedit?
“Yousaytheword‘pizza’andtheroomclears.”
IjumpedwhenMichaelspoke.Ihadn’tevenrealizedhewasstillthere.
Ismiledandcasuallystood.“Whodoesn’tlovepizza,right?
Hegesturedtothehallway.“Doyouwanttogogetinonthat?”
“Um,no,thanks.”Ishookmyhead,notwantingtofollowWes,especiallyifhewascanoodlingwithAlex.“WesandIwenttoStella’sbeforewegothereandI’mstillfull.”
“That’sright—hetoldmeyouweregettingdinnerbeforeyoucame.”
“Yeah.”
“Healsotoldmethatthingsweremorefriend-ywithyoutwoandhe’sthinkingaboutaskingAlexout.”
ItriedtolooklikeIdidn’tcare.Ismiledovertheheavyfeelinginmystomachandsaid,“Yeah,he’sright.Hetotallyshould—sheseemsgreat.”
“Yeah.Apparentlyhe’ssickofbeingstuckinyourfriendzonesohe’smovingon.”
“Finally.”IrubbedmylipstogetherandfocusedonMichael’sblueeyes.Thisiswhatyouwanted.StartinganythingwithWeswouldbebad,badnews.Eyesontheprize,girl.“Ididn’twantthingstogetweird,sothisisreallygood.”
“Probably.”
“Um,whendidhetellyouthat?”Daysago,please.“AboutAlex?”
“Whenwewereinthekitchen.”
“Ah.”Ilookedatthepianokeysandswallowed,anditfeltliketherewassomethingstuckinmythroat.Imean,itwasexactlywhatwe’dplannedforWestosay,sotherewasnoreasonformetofeelunsettledbythis,right?
Michael’sphonemadeanoise,bringingmeoutofmydaze.Helookeddownatthemessage,sighed,andthenputhisphonebackinhispantspocket.
“Um—areyouokay?”Iasked,becausehisanxiousfacelookedthesameasithadbackingradeschoolwhenhe’ddroppedhisfavoriteBogglegameonthesidewalkandallthelittleletterpieceshadbouncedintothebushes.He’dalwaysbeenthekindofpersontostressabouteverylittlething.
Except—dearLord—IknewnothingaboutMichaelnow.Atall.IknewhespokewithaSoutherndrawlandhadgoodhair—that’sall.Sure,theMichaelIknewinelementaryschoollikedbugsandbooksandbeingkind,butwhatdidIknowabouthimtoday?IknewWesathousandtimesbetterthanMichael,andIwaskindofstartingtoadorethatnext-doorneighborofmine.
Shit.
WhatwasIevendoinginthisroomwithMichael?
Hefingeredthesharpkeys,staringatthepiano.HepressedhisindexfingerdownonthemiddleCandsaid,“It’sthiswholethingwithLaneyandprom.”
Mybody’sinnateresponsetothename“Laney”wastojumpforjoywhenitwassaidinaless-than-positivetone.ButnowIcouldn’tmusteruptheemotion.Iasked,“Areyouguysgoing?Ididn’tknow.Imean,Iheardyouweretalking.But,y’know…”
Itrailedoff,notwantingtoseemlikeIknewallthegossip.
“Well,no.Imean,no,we’renotgoingyet.”Hesighedyetagain.“See,wehavebeentalking,andLaney’swonderful.ButonthedayImether,herboyfriendhadjustbrokenupwithher.Literally.Imetherbecauseshewasoutsidecrying.”
“Oh.”Ihadnoideawhoshe’ddated,butitwaskindofhardtobelievethatLaneyMorgangotdumped.
“SoIhavenoideawhat’sgoingoninherhead.Idon’twanttomovetoofastifsheisn’tready,andIespeciallydon’twanttostartsomethingifshe’sstillhunguponherex.”
IfeltalittlebadforhimbecauseIcouldtotallyempathize.Wantingsomethingbutbeingunsureifyou’reabletohaveit?Orifit’ssafetohave?Yeah,Igotthat.AndnowthatIknewhowIactuallyfelt,thenew,enlightened,emotionallyhonestLizwantedtohelpMichaelwithLaney,givehimsomekindofadvice.
Butatthesametime,IwantedtoleavethisconversationandboltdownstairstofindWesbeforeAlexstartedwearinghimlikeashirt.Isaid,“Can’tyouaskhertopromasafriendandseewhereitgoes?”
“Icould.”Heplayedwiththekeysalittlemore.“Butpromshouldmeansomething.Maybeit’stheTexasbignessI’musedto,buttome,it’saboutthepromposalanddinnerandflowersandmore.Isthatsilly?”
Isnortedalaugh.“OhmyGod,no—thinkaboutwhoyou’retalkingtohere.”
Helookedupandgrinned.
“That’sright.LittleLiz,”Isaid,andpointedtomyselfandrolledmyeyes.“Ifeeltheexactsameway.I’msupposedtogowithJoss,andI’msureit’llbefun,butI’mwithyou.That’snothowI’vealwaysdaydreamedseniorpromwouldbe.”
IpicturedWes’sface,andmyhandsfelthot.Ishookthemoutandsaid,“ThemoreIthinkaboutit,themoreIdon’twanttosettle.Iwantthepossibilityofmore,evenifitdoesn’tworkout.Iwanttotakethechanceforamagicalnight,becauseevenifitflops,Icanatleasthaveadatewithpossibilityinsteadofafriend.”
Hetiltedhisheadalittleandsmiledatme.“Youmighthaveapoint,Liz.”
“IknowIdo.”IwasgettingworkedupatthethoughtofgoingtopromwithWes.Someoneneededtodousemewithcoldwater,fast.BecausesuddenlyitfeltlikeitwasallI’deverwanted.“TrustmewhenItellyouthatsometimesthepersonwiththemost‘magicalnightpossibility’isthelastpersonyou’dexpect.Sometimestherecanbesomeoneyou’veknownforever,yetneverreallynoticed.”
God,IwishedI’dnoticedsooner.MybrainwasspewingoutlittlemontagesofWesandme—intheSecretArea,atStella’s,onthewayhomefromtheparty…
HowhadInotnoticedsooner?
“IthinkIknowwhatyoumean,”Michaelsaid,staringatmeintensely,andalarmbellsstartedgoingoffinmyhead.Iwasn’tsurewhyhewaslookingatmelikethat,butnowdefinitelywasn’tthetime.
Adampoppedhisheadinthedoorwayandsaid,“Weneedyouguys.We’redoingteamCardsAgainstHumanity.”
“Yes!”Ishoutedmyresponse,thrilledtobeinterrupted.
AdamtiltedhisheadandgavemeaWhat’s-the-matter-with-yougrin,andMichaelwasstilleyeballingme.Iclearedmythroatandtriedtorecover,sayingwithacasuallook,“Imean,countmein.”
“I’veneverplayedthatonteams,”Michaelsaid,givingmeaweirdlook.
“Meeither,”Iagreed,anxioustofindWes.
“We’reonlyplayingteamsbecauseAlexwantstopairupwithWes.”Adamgavemealookofcommiseration,likewewereofthesameopinion,andIwasn’tquitesurewhattodowithit.“Shesaysit’smorefunthatway,butI’mprettysureshejustwantstoshareachairwithhim.”
“Well,let’sdoit.”Michaelgavemeanicesmile,butitdidnothingforme.Atall.ItjustremindedmethatIneededtogetdowntothatcardgamebeforeAlexendedupwithmyhappyending.CHAPTERTWELVE
“Hehadkissedherlongandgood.Wegotbannedfromthepoolforeverthatday,buteverytimewewalkedbyafterthat,thelifeguardlookeddownfromhertower,rightoveratSquints,andsmiled.”
—TheSandlot
“ThankGodweparkedclose.”Wesstartedthecarandturnedonthewindshieldwipersastherainpoundeddown.“Wewould’vebeendrenchedifwe’dbeenasecondlater.”
Myheartwasbeatinginmyneck.Theinsideofthedarkcarfeltintimateagainsttheroaringstorm,andIwaswhollyunsettled.SincethemomentI’drealizedthewayItrulyfeltaboutWes,I’dbeenoverwhelmedwithasortofpanickedneedtotellhim.TomakesureheknewbeforeAlexgotcomfortableonhim.“Forsure.”
“Sorryaboutmysketchyfriends.”
“Nah—it’scool.”HewasreferringtothefactthathisfriendshadplayedCardsAgainstHumanityforaboutfiveminutesbeforedecidingtheyallwantedtogoalongwhenNoahgotthepizza.I’mfairlycertainIwassmilingmaniacallywhenAlexclimbedintotheminivan.“Iwassupposedtogohomeassoonasthemovieended,anyway.”
“Yeah,what’swiththat?You’remonthsawayfromleavingforcollege,butyourdad’sstillalloveryourbusiness.Isheasmidgeoverprotective,maybe?”
Helookedoverhisshoulderbeforeputtingthecarindriveandpullingontothestreet,andthenewsongfromDaphneSteinbeck—“DarkLove”—wasstartingontheradio.Itwasslowandheavyonthesexybuildingbeat,andIconsideredswitchingthestationbecauseitfeltliketoomuch.
Itwastooperfect.
Isaid,“Big-time.Eventhoughhe’smovedonwithhislife,heneverforgetsaboutmymother’saccidentandthefactthatsometimesthethingsthatseemunlikelytohappeninlifedoactuallyhappen.”
“Wow.”Heglancedoveratme.“Prettytoughtoargueoverthatone,eh?”
“Idon’tevenbother.”
Therainintensified,andWesswitchedthewindshieldwiperstofullspeed.HepulledoutslowlyontoHarborDrive,thebusystreetthatranparalleltoMichael’sneighborhood,andthebright,multicoloredlightsfromthebusinessesliningtheroadwerecompletelyblurredbythedownfall.Ileanedforward,crankedthedefroster,andsaidascasuallyasIcould,“SoAlex,huh?You’regoingtoaskherout?”
“DidMichaelsaythat?”Hecranedhisneckclosertothewindshield,takinghistimeaswenearedanintersection.Thestoplightswitchedtogreen,andheacceleratedwhenthecarsatthecrossstreetallcametoastop.Allclear,wegotbackuptospeed,butinthedistanceIsawaJettazipoutofagasstationandontotheroadinfrontoftheSuburbanwewerefollowingentirelytoocloselyand—
“Car!”Ibracedmyselfforimpactasthebrakelightsinfrontofusglowedbrightredthroughthedrenchedandfoggywindow.Wes’stirestriedtostoponthewetpavement,butthebrakeslocked,andweweregoingtoslamintothatSuburban.
Wessteeredthecartotheright,throwingusupandoverwhatmight’vebeenacurb,andthenwewereheadedforsomethingverygreen.Itlookedlikeaforest.
“Shitshitshitshit,”hechantedasheattemptedtocontrolthecar.Hisfootmashedonthebrake,butastheheadlightslitupthesteep,muddyslopeinfrontofus,wejustkeptmovingdownthathillandtowardthetrees.Weweregoingtohitatree—therewasnowayweweren’t—andIsaidaprayerasfastasIcouldwhilemyheartpounded.
Hejerkedthewheelagain,andassoonashedid,Ifeltahugebump,likewe’dhitsomething,andIworriedthecarwasgoingtoflipover.
Butitlurchedtoastopinstead.
IlookedoveratWes,andhisfacewasflushedlikehe’djustcomebackfromarun.Wewerebothbreathinghardasthundercontinuedtopound,therainslappedontheroofofthetruck,andtheradiostillplayed“DarkLove.”“Didthatjusthappen?”
“Areyouokay?”Hishandswerestilltightlywrappedaroundthewheel,andheblinkedatme,frozen,beforeheunclenchedhisfingersandputthecarinpark.“Holyshit,Liz.”
“I’mfine.”Itriedtolookoutthewindshieldbutstillcouldn’tseeanything.“OhmyGod,we’refine…?”
“OhmyGod.”Helaidhisbackonhisseatandletouthisbreath.“Thatwaswild.”
Wild.Fromthetimehe’dslammedonthebrakesuntilnowhadprobablybeenaminute—tops.Butthatminutehadbeenlikeanhour.InthespanofthatminuteI’dworriedthatweweregoingtodie.I’dworriedabouthowmydadwouldsurviveifsomethinghappenedtome,I’dworriedaboutJoss,I’dworriedaboutWes’smom,andI’dmournedthefactthatI’dnevergetthechancetoseethingsthroughwithWes.
Bizarre,right?
“Ican’tbelievewe’reokay,”Isaid,rememberingthewayWeshadjerkedthewheel.Isaid,“Youwereincredible.”
Heunbuckledhisseatbeltanddidn’tlookatme.“Incrediblyrecklessfordrivinginthisweather,youmean.”
“No,Imeannotonlydidyourdrivingkeepusfromslammingintothatcar,butthenitkeptusfromslammingintoatree.”Iunbuckledmyseatbelttoo,andadded,“Thankyou.”
“Don’tthankmeyet.Imight’vegottenusstuck.”Hereachedinfrontofmeandopenedtheglovebox,rummageduntilhecameupwithaflashlight.“Waithere—I’mgoingtocheckitout.”
Heopenedhisdoorandgotout.Itriedpeeringthroughthewindshield,toseeformyself,butthewindowsweresofogged,Isawnothing.Iopenedmydoorandsteppedout,immediatelygettingpummeledbythehardpoundingrainasmyfootsquisheddownintothewetmud.
“Shit!”IloweredmyheadandranaroundthefrontofthecartowhereIcouldsortofseeWeskneelingnexttothetire.Istoppedbesidehimandsquatted.Yelled,“Seriously?Arock?”
Itlookedlikeourtirehadslammedintoahugeboulderandthengottenhunguponit.Wes’sfronttirewasliterallyofftheground.Hesquinted,rainsluicingoverhisfaceashelookedsurprisedtoseeme.“IthoughtItoldyoutowaitinthecar.”
“You’renotthebossofme,”Iholleredthroughtherain,andhisfacewentfromrock-hardseriousnesstoamusedsoftnessinasecond.Isaid,“Besides,ifyoudie,I’mstuckouthereallalone.”
“True,”hebellowed,grabbingmywethandwithhisandpullingmeup.“I’mgettingbackinthecar—wouldtheladycaretojoinme?”
“Shewould,actually.”
Insteadofcomingaroundtomyside,heopenedhisdoorandgentlypushedmeinside.Igiggledandclimbedin,scootingovertothemiddleofthebenchseat,andwhenhisbigbodygotinandthedoorslammedshut,theinsideofhiscarseemedincrediblyinsulated.
Forafewsecondswewerequiet,eachofuswipingwaterfromourfacesandpushingdrenchedhairfromoureyes.Thenhepulledouthisphoneanddialedanumber.
“I’mcallingmydad,”hesaidasheraisedthephonetohisear,lookingatthesteeringwheel.“Hecangetherefast,andhisbuddyhasatowtruck.”
“Cool.”Ilookeddownandwhispered,“Ohno—myChucks.”
Theywerecoveredinwet,stickymud,andthatmadememoreupsetthanitshould’ve.Theywerejustsneakers,afterall,anditwasjustmud.But…I’dwantedthemtostayasperfectasthey’dbeenwhenWeshadwalkedthemovertothecounteratDevlishandpaidforthem.
MaybeIcouldwashtheminbleachwhenIgothome.
Ipulleddownthevisorandlookedinthemirrorashetoldhisdadwhathadhappenedandwherewewere.Iwipedundermyeyesinanattempttoeradicateraccoon-eye,butmytremblingfingerswerenogood.
Iflippedthevisorbackupandtookadeepbreath.Iwasshakenbytheaccident,butthisweirdsurgeofadrenalineIwasfeelingwassomethingmore.
Becauseitoccurredtome,asWes’scarsattherewithonetireintheair,thatlifewasunpredictable.Nomatterhowmuchplanningyoudid,andnomatterhowsafeyouplayedit,someintangiblewasalwaysgoingtorearitsheadandshakethingsup.
Whichmademewonder.
Ifmymomhadstillbeenalive,wouldshehavechangedhertunebynowonthewholebad-boything?Itseemedtomethatbecauseofthingslikecaraccidentsandlostloves,lifeanddeathandbrokenhearts,weshouldgrabeverymomentandabsolutelydevourthegoodparts.Wouldn’tshewantthat?Formetoad-libmylifeinsteadoflivingbysometyped-in-twelve-point-Courier-Newscript?
“He’llbehereintenminutes.”Wesdroppedhisphoneintothecupholderandturnedhiseyesonme.“Iamsosorry,Lib.”
Isuppressedashiverandwonderedifhe’dmeanttocallmethat.Heusuallyonlysaiditwhenhewasteasing,butthistimeit’dbeenpersonal.Intimate.Almostasifwereallywereathing.Myvoicedidn’tsoundrightasIsaid,“Noworries—youdidn’tdrivemeheadfirstintoatree,sowe’regood.”
Thatmadehisfacesoften.“Good.”
Irolledinmylipsandfeltnervous,mostlybecauseIreally,really,reallywantedtotellhimhowIfeltandwhatIwanted.Itookadeepbreathandsaid,“Wes.”
“Hey.Yourcurlsareback.”Hisbrowneyesnarrowedalittleandhislipsturnedup.“IthinkI’vemissedthem.”
Hestartedtolifthishand,likehewasgoingtotouchmywethair,butthenhedidn’t.
DisappointmentshotthroughmeasIbreathedaroundalaugh.“Weren’tyoutheonewhodemandedIstraightenmyhair?”
“Iwas.”Hisskinwaswetfromtheraintoo—obviously—andadropwaspoisedtotumbleoffthetipofhisnose.Thosebrowneyestraveledallovermyface,dippingovermyeyesandcheeksandmouthbeforehesaidinahoarse,deepvoice,“AndIthinkIregretallofit.Imissyourclothesandcurlyhair.Youlookbestwhenyou’reyou.”
Youlookbestwhenyou’reyou.Oh,God.
Weweresoclose,lipsmereinchesawayaswesatface-to-faceonhisfrontseat.Ifeltliketherewasnooneelseintheworld,nothingbutmeandWesinthesteamy-windowedcabofhiscarastheraincocoonedusinshowers.Iwantedhimtoleaninandkissme—Iwanteditsobadly—butIknewhewouldn’t.
HowdidIknow?
BecauseI’dspentmyentirelifemakingsureWesBennettknewjusthowmuchIwouldnever-ever-everwanthimtokissme.Isaidonabreath,“Gee,thanks,Bennett.”
Hisvoicewasquietwhenhesaid,“Imeanit.”
AndthenIkissedhim.
Goingforit,Islidmyarmsaroundhisneckandpressedmylipsagainsthis,turningmyheadjustalittleandscootingmyhipsoveronthebenchseat.Thesmellofhiscolognemixedwiththesmelloftherain,andhewasallaroundme.
Weswasfrozenforasecond,unmovingasmymouthrestedagainsthismouth.Thethoughtthathemightnotwanttokissmecrossedmymindtoolate.CouldIretreatandplaythisoff?DoawholeOops,Iwasunbalancedfromtheaccidentandfellonyourmouthwithmymouthbit?
Andthen,asifstruckbylightning,Wesinhaledandhishandstightenedonthesidesofmyface.Hewaskissingmeback.IwaskissingWesBennett,andhewaskissingme.
Itwentfrombreathilytimidtoscaldinghotinaninstant.
HeangledhisheadandkissedmethewayWeswassupposedtokiss,wildandsweetandentirelyoverconfidentallatthesametime.Heknewexactlywhathewasdoingashisbighandsslidintomyhair,butitwastheshudderinhisbreathandtheslighttremorinhistouchthatIdrewon.ThefactthathefeltasoutofcontrolasIfelt.
Wesslidmeevenclosertohimontheseat,sowewerepressedchest-to-chest.Forthefirsttimeinmylife,Iunderstoodhowpeoplecouldjustforgetwheretheywereandhavewild,indiscriminatesexinthefrontseatofacar.Iwantedtowrapmylegsaroundhiswaist,climballoverhim,andexploreeverythingthathadeverbeendonewithtwobodies.AndIwasstill(sortof)avirgin.
Icouldn’tstopmyhandsfromgoingeverywhereasIgotlostintheall-encompassingeverythingofourmoment.Islidthemunderhishoodieashisteethnippedatmybottomlip,andthentheywereonhisface,feelingtherigidsolidityofhisjawlinewhilehekissedmelikeitwashisjobandhewantedaraise.HemadeasoundwhenIdugmyhandsintohishair—likehelikedit—andIwantedittorainlikethatforeverandneverstop.
Itwasn’tuntilhesaidmyname—whispereditintomymouth—threetimesthatIcamebacktoreality.
“Liz.”
“Hmmm?”Iopenedmyeyesbutmyvisionwaskindofunfocused.IsmiledwhenIsawhisprettyfacesoclosetomine.“What?”
Hisdarkeyeswereheavy-liddedashesaid,“Ithinkmydad’shere.”
“What?”IfelttotallyoutofitasIblinkedupathimandhishandmovedslowlybackandforthonmylowerback.Idon’tthinkIwould’veheardornoticedifapackofwilddogshadrunby.
ThenIsawtheheadlightsnexttohiscar.
“Oh.”Itookadeepbreathandranahandovermyhair,squintingasthetoo-brightlightilluminatedeverything.Iwhispered,“Shit.”
“Ishouldprobablygotalktohimbeforeheopensyourdoor.”Hislipswerealmosttouchingmyearashequietlyspoketome.“Okay?”
MyeyeswerebarelyopenasIfelthishotmouthwhisperovermyearlobe.
“Libby?”
Ishookmyhead.“Nuh-uh.”
Thatearnedmeadeep,dirtychucklethatcurledmytoesinsidemyshoes.Hisbreathtickledmynerveendingsashesaid,“I’mgoodwithstayingifyoudon’tmindmydadseeinguslikethis.”
“Fine,go,”Imuttered,andpushedonhischest,feelingsomehowpossessiveofWesBennettasIreveledinthefeelofhischestundermypalms.Hiseyeswentdowntomyhandsforthequickestofsecondsandhisforeheadcreased,butjustlikethatitwasnormalagain.
Igavehimalookandsaid,“Iwasdonewithyouanyway.”
“Whatever,MissNuh-Uh.”Hissmiletoldmeheknewexactlyhowmuchhe’daffectedme.Heopenedhisdoorandsaid,“Berightback,Elizabeth.”
“I’llbehere,Wessy,”Isaid,whichreceivedmoredirtychucklingbeforehegotoutandslammedthedoorbehindhim.
Iadjustedmywetclothingandattemptedtostraightenmyhair.OhmyGod,ohmyGod,didthatreallyjusthappen?IfeltlikeWes’sdadwouldbeabletotelljustbylookingatmethatI’dbeenmakingoutwithhisson,butthereprobablywasn’talotIcoulddoaboutthat.
“Hey.”ThepassengerdooropenedandWesleanedin.“He’sgoingtoneedWebb’strucktogetmycaroutsohe’sjustgoingtotakeushomeandcomeback.”
IblinkedandwonderedwhyIhadn’tspentmyentirelifebeingawestruckbythesightofhisface.Iletmyeyesstumblealloverit.“Okay.”
Hislipsturnedupintoasexygrin,andIsweartoGod,heknewwhatIwasthinking.Heputhismouthnexttomyearandsaid,“Iwasnotreadyforhimtobehereyet.”
Ifeltwarmalloverwhenheliftedhisheadandwesmiledateachother.“Iwasn’teither,”Iadmitted.
“Comeon,kids—I’mgettin’soakedouthere,”Mr.BennettyelledfromsomewherebehindWesbeforehegotintohiscarandclosedthedoor.
Wesheldouthishand,andwhenIgrabbeditandclimbedoutofthecar,hedidn’tletgo.Insteadhelacedhislongfingersbetweenmine,withoutlookingatme,andledmeovertohisdad’scarinthepouringrain.
WesBennettwasholdingmyhand.
Heopenedthebackdoor…andabigboxwasontheseat.
“Otherside,”hisdadsaid,andWesletgoofmyhandandopenedthefrontpassengerdoorformeinstead.Igotin,andhegavemeawinkbeforeclosingmydoor.
Iwasindeeptroublebecausethatwinkstraight-upmademelight-headed.
“Thanks,”Isaidasheshutmydoor,ranaroundtotheotherside,andgotintheback.Notonlywasitawkward,sittinginthefrontwithhisdad,butIdesperatelywantedtositbyWes.
“Thanksforcomingtogetus,Mr.Bennett.”
“Noproblem,sweetie.”Hebuckledhisseatbeltandputthecarindrive.“LasttimeIgaveyouaridesomewhere,youwereprettytiny.”
Ismiledandrememberedthetimehe’ddrivenallofuskidstoDairyQueenwhentherewasamassivepoweroutage.“DairyQueen,right?Thathadtobetenyearsago.”
Henodded.“That’sright.”
AsheturnedoutontoHarborDrive,IwishedIcouldseeWes’sfaceandknowwhathewasthinking.Washefreakingoutlikeme—inthegoodway?Didhewanttofindawaytogettogetherlaterandmakeoutalittlemore?
Washeinterestedinme—like,reallyinterested?
BecauseIwasbesidemyselfwithexcitement,burstingwiththeutterahhhhh!thatcouldonlyfollowourlittlegameoffiveminutesinthesteamycar.
Hisdadstartedtalkingaboutthecarsituation,andheandWesgotlostinautomobiletalkallthewayhomeasIstaredoutthewindowandreplayedthekissinmyhead.WhenMr.Bennettpulledintomydriveway,IgrabbedHelena’sto-gobagandmypurse.Ihadnoideawhattosay,soIblurtedout,“Thanksfortheride.”
“Ofcourse.Niceseeingyou,honey.”
Igotout,slammedthedoor,andranthroughtherainuntilIreachedourcoveredporch.Only…Icouldn’tnotsayanythingelsetoWes,right?Icouldn’tletthenight’slastwordsbefromStuartBennett.
Iwatchedastheircarleftmydrivewayandpulledintotheirsnextdoor,andassoonasIsawWesgetoutinthegarage,Isetdownthestuffinmyhandandchargedoutintotherain.OnceIgottothecornerofhisyard,Istoppedandyelled,“Wes!”
Therainpoundeddownonme,butIyelledhisnameagainasItriedtogethisattention.
Helookedover,butitwasrainingtoohardformetoseehisface.Therainflattenedmysoakinghairagainstmyface,butIshouted,“Thanksforeverything!”
Iranbacktotheporch,pushedbackmydrippinghair,andgotoutmykey.
“Libby!”
Ismiledandturnedaround,andtherewasWes,standinginthepouringraininmyfrontyard.Itiltedmyheadandsaid,“What?”
“Yousaid‘everything’!”Hisclothesweredrenchedasheshouted,“Doesthatmeanyou’rethankingmeforthekiss,too?”
IlaughedandpickedupHelena’sfood.“Ishould’veknownyou’druinit!”
“Nuh-uh,Buxbaum.”Hedughishandsintohiswethairandmadeitallstandstraightupashegrinnedatmethroughthestorm.“Thatwastooperfectforanythingtoruin.G’night.”
Nuh-uh.Isighedandfeltwarminside,evenasmywetbodyshivered.“G’night,Bennett.”
“OhmyGod,ohmyGod,ohmyGod.”Iclosedthedoorbehindmeandrestedmydrippingforeheadonthecoolofthewhitewood.Whatwasthatandwhatdiditmean?“Holycrap.”
“Thatgood,huh?”
Iturnedaround,andHelenawassittingonthechairbesidethefireplacewithMr.Fitzpervertasleeponherlap,abookstillinherhandandasmirkonherface.Iwantedtobemadorembarrassed,butIcouldn’tstopsmiling.Ipushedatmywethairandsaid,“Youhavenoidea.”
“Comeinthekitchenbeforewewakeupyourdad.”Shegotup,makingFitzgruntoutacrankymrrfashejumpeddowntothefloor.Helenadroppedthebookandgesturedtomewhilewalkingtowardthekitchen.Oncewegotthere,shegrabbedherfoodbeforewhippingatowelatmeandsaying,“Nowstarttalking.”
Igiggled—Icouldn’thelpit—andrubbedthetowelovermyhead.“I,um,IhadareallygreattimewithWestonight.”
“Yeah…?”Sheopenedtheto-gocontainerandstuckitinthemicrowave.“And…?”
“And.”Ikeptrubbingmyhair,replayinghismouthonmine.Thesoundofhisbreathing,thesmellofhiscologne,thefeelofhishandsholdingmyface—
“Hey.Excuseme.Canyoufocusforaminute?”
Thatmademelaughagain.“Ican’t,okay?I’msorry,butIcan’tfocusonanythingbecauseIhadanincrediblenightwithWesBennett,ofallpeople.Anincrediblenightthatendedwithhimkissingmelikeaworld-championkisser.Iamshook,Helena.”
“I’mnotsurehow.Imeanyes,you’vehatedhimforever,butIstillfeellikeyouguyshavebeenleadinguptothis.”
“Really?”Isetthetoweldownonthecounter.“Havewe?God,I’vebeensooblivious.”Somehow,forsolong,I’dmanagedtobefullyunawarethatWeswasattractive,funny,andsmart,aswellastheonepersonIwastotallyabletobemyselfaround.I’dbeensoblindedbytheideaofMichaelthatIhadn’tevenrealizedwhatwashappeningbetweenus
“Butit’sgood,yes?”Helenaleanedonthecounterandbeamedatme.“Itseemstomethatit’sreally,reallygood.”
Iopenedthefridge—stillsmiling—andsaid,“I’mscaredtosayit,butIthinkitcouldbe.”
Although…IwasstillconcernedaboutAlex.Iknewwhathe’dsaidabouther,butsometimesfeelingschanged.Justbecauseshewasn’this“type”theotherdaydidn’tmeanthatwithmoretimetogetherandmoretimetogazeuponherbeauty,hewouldn’tchangehismind.
Sheclappedherhandstogether.“Whatifheasksyoutoprom?”
Ialmostdroppedtheorangejuicewhenshesaidthat.IstraightenedalittleandpicturedhisfaceasIstaredintothefridge,thewayhisdarkeyeshadlookedalmostblackafterwe’dstoppedkissing.ItwasWesBennettweweretalkingabout,andyetitwasn’t.ItwasWes5.0,thegrown-assmanversion,andIfeltlikeIwasinovermyheadbecauseIhadnoideawherethingsstoodwithus.He’dkissedmyfaceoff.ThatwastheonlythingIknewtobetrue.DidhestillthinkhewashelpingmewithMichael?Hecouldn’t,right?
AndIdidn’tknowifhewantedtopursueanythingwithme,butIwasdesperatelyhopefulthatthefervorofthekissmeantthathedid.
ThewholeMichaelthingfeltsillynow.IwishedIcouldgobackintimeandplayMichaelandLaney’spersonalcupidinsteadofpullingallthestuntsIdid.Ihopedthatmyheart-to-heartwithMichaelbythepianohadgivenhimwhatheneededtoaskLaneyout.
“I’msurehewon’t.”Iclosedthefridgeandwasrealisticaboutprom,eventhoughmypoor,confusedlittlelove-loversidewassquealingatthethought.Regardlessofmypinings,I’dtoldJossI’dgowithher,andIneededtosticktothat.SofarI’dluckedoutandmyshittinessasafriendhadn’tcostmeanythingwithher,soIneededtostepupandkeepthatgoing.“Plus,I’vegotadate.”
“WouldJosscareifyouwentwithhim?”
“Oh,yeah—butmaybewecouldallgotogether…?”Dressingupwithtwoofmyfavoritepeople?ItsoundedsomuchmoreamazingthanwhatIhadpreviouslyenvisionedastheperfectprom.
“Well,whateverhappens,”Helenasaid,“I’llbehappytounderwriteapre-promsalonandspaday.”
Iunscrewedthejuicelidandsaid,“Thatsoundsreallyfun.Butyouhavetocomealong.”AndImeantit.Iwantedhertherewithme.
Sheraisedaneyebrow.“Really?”
Ishruggedandsaid,“Imean,ifyoupissmeoff,I’lljusttellyourstylistthatyousecretlywantmini-bangs.”
“Canyouevenimaginehowtheywouldlookonthisrunwayofaforehead?”
“Theylookterribleoneveryone—period.”
Afterthat,IwentuptomyroomandsentJocelynatextaboutWes,whichledtousgoingbackandforthfor,like,anhour.
Me:IthinkImightlike-likehim.
Her:OBVIOUSLY.
Me:IthinkHEmightlike-likeme.
Her:Tellmeeverylittlethingthathappened.
Ididn’tmentionthatwe’dkissed,whichwasweirdbecauseIusuallytoldhereverything.Well,exceptforlately.Butithadbeensoperfect—boththekissandhissweetcommentaboutmystyle—thatIdidn’twantJoss’sopiniontomartheevening’sflawlessness.
IstayedupwaytoolatemakingaWesandLizplaylistandwenttosleepthinkingofhisfaceafterhe’dkissedme.Becausethewayhe’dlookedatme—likehecouldn’tbelieveithadhappenedandalsolikehewantedtodoitagain—weakenedmykneeswithitsmererecollection.
Hiseyeshadbeensoftandhotallatthesametime,intenseandsweet,andIwishedtherewasawaytoarchivethememorysoitcouldneverbelost.
HowwasIevergoingtosleep?CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
“Niceboysdon’tkisslikethat.”
“Oh,yes,theyfuckingdo.”
—BridgetJones’sDiary
“Oh,blessyou.”Jocelyntookthecoffeefrommyhandandraisedittohermouth.“Andwhyareyouwearingthat?”
Ilookeddownatmyadorableowldressbeforeunlockingmylocker.“Whywouldn’tI?Iloveit.”
Shemadeafaceasshesippedfromhercupandleanedagainstthelockerbesidemine.“Iwashopingyouweregoingtostickwiththenewlook.”
Youlookbestwhenyou’reyou.MyfacegothotasIrememberedWesandtherainandhishandsinmyhair.I’dbeenonhighalertsincearrivingatschoolthatmorning,lookingforhimaroundeverycornerandineveryhallway,mystomachwildatthethoughtoflayingeyesonhim.
Ofhimlayingeyesonmerightback.
Lord.
Hehadn’ttextedsincethekiss,butit’dbeenlatewhenhe’ddroppedmeoff,andhe’dstillhadtogobackforhiscar.Igrabbedmyhistorybookfromthetopshelfandsaid,“Istilllikemydresses.Sueme.”
“Don’tgetmewrong,”shesaid,swirlingthecoffeearoundinhercup.“You’readorablenomatterwhatyouwear,butyouwerejustultra-adorableinmoderncasual.”
“Thanks,althoughthatoutfitistotallyruinednowfrommybloodynose.”
Jocelyn’smouthtwitchedasshestaredintotheholeinherlid.“Istillcannotbelievethathappened.”
“Right?”Islammedmylocker,andJocelynandIwenttofirstblock.IwassodisappointednottorunintoWes,especiallysincehisradiosilenceledmetoobsessallmorningandbecomeparanoidthatthekisswasnothingtohimandabsolutelynothinghadchangedbetweenus.
Inearlysquealedwhenmyphonebuzzedatlunch.I’djustsatdownwithmystrawberrysaladandlemonadewhenIsawitwasatextfromWes.
Wes:Ilikeyourbirddress.
Ilookedaroundbutdidn’tseehimatanyofthebusycafeteriatables.
Me:They’reowls.Whereareyou?
Wes:Inthelibrary—sawyouwalkbyafewminutesago.Owlsarebirds,btw.
Me:Yep.
Wes:Stopyellingatmeaboutbirds,Buxbaum.Ijustsaidyoulookcuteinyourdress—that’sall.
Ismiledandthenimmediatelylookedaroundtomakesurehewasn’tlurkingnearby,watchingmypatheticreaction.
Me:Youdidn’tactuallysaythat.
Wes:SureIdid.
Me:Um…
Wes:Gottarun.Talklater?
Isetmyphoneonthetablelikeitwasburningmyhands.Talklater?Thatwasnevergood,right?Whatkindofominoussentimentwasthat?Iopenedthepacketofvinaigretteonmytrayanddrizzleditoverthesaladbeforepickingthephonebackupandtexting:
Me:Yup.
IfI’dbeenobsessinginthemorning,Iwasridiculousintheafternoon.BecauseIneededtoknowmore,morethanthefactthatwe’dsharedagoodkiss.Didhelikeme?Didhewanttoholdhandsandmaybekissmore?Washemaybegoingtobemyboyfriendinthenearfuture,orwasthekissjustpartofourfunhangoutsanddidn’treallymeananythingtohimatall?
Anditoccurredtome,asIwalkeddownthehallwithJossafterschool,thatIhadn’thadachancetotellWesthatIwasnolongerinterestedinMichael.Heknewthat,right?Imean,thekisshadtohaveexpressedthatsentiment.
“DoyouthinkWesisgoingtoaskyouonadate-date?”
Mystomachflippedoverasaflashofthekisshitme.“Ihopeso.”
“Whowould’vethought?”Josspushedtheexitdoor,andIfollowedheroutintothesunshineasshesaid,“Theboywhotorturedyouingradeschoolisnowyourromanticdreamboat.Weird.”
“What’shappeningoverthere?”Isaid,distracted.Therewaskindofacrowdoverbythemaindriveway.“Ibetit’safight.”
Josssaid,“ProbablyMattBondandJakeHeadley.”
MattandJakeweretwoofthoseguysatourschool.Whenwordgotoutthattheyhadbeefwitheachother,theentirestudentbodylosttheirshitoverthepossibilityofsomethinggoingdown.
Weweavedthroughthecrowd,mostlybecausemycarwasinthelotthattheywereallblocking.Isaid,“Ididhearthattheyweregoingtothrowhands.”
“Youdidnotjustsaythat,OwlDress.”
“Well,that’sliterallywhatIheard.Wordforword.”Imovedpastacouplepeopleandsaid,“Excuseme.”
“Oh.My.God.”
MyheadwhippedaroundtolookatJocelyn.“What?”
Shewasstaringovermyshoulder.Withoutlookingatme,shecoveredhermouthwithonehandandpointedwiththeother.
Iturnedmyheadandfollowedherfingertoacarthatwasparkedinthecenteroftheconcourse.ItwasablackGrandCherokee,andthefactthatitwasparkedtherewasunusual,butthatwasn’twhatmadeitafocalpoint.
No,whatmadeitunusualwasthattheentiredriver’ssideofthecarwascoveredwithwhiteboxes,boxesthateachhadablackletteronthem,andtherewasabig,orangesquareframingthemall.
ThesideofthecarwasahugeBoggleboard.
ABoggleboardthathaddiagonallettersinredspellingoutthequestion“Prom?”
“Holycrap,Liz—getupthere!”BaileyWetzelwasstandinginthecrowd,andshegrinnedatmeandheldoutanarm.“Go!”
IwasslowtoabsorbwhatwashappeninguntilIsawMichael.Hewasstandingnexttothecar,smilingatmeandholdingaposterthatsaidWANNAPLAYBOGGLEWITHME,LIZ?
Itwasapromposal.
Michaelwasaskingmetoprom.
IfeltconfusedanddisjointedasIsmiledandeveryonestandingaroundstartedclapping.Michaelwasaskingmetoprom—inaromantic,thoughtfulway—butIwasinshock.ItwastotallywhatI’dwantedaweekago,butnotanymore.
Islowlywalkedtowardhim,mylegsrubberyasIapproached.
IheardJosssay,“Lethimdowneasy,Liz.”
IlookedatMichael’ssmilingface.Whatthehell?Icouldn’tthinkofanywaytomakethismakesense.EverysingleencounterI’dhadwithMichaelhadbasicallyendedindisaster—vomit,bloodynose,Laneytalk—sowhywasthisevenhappening?
Theirony,right?
Havingsomanypeoplewatchingmemademefeelhotanditchy.Uncomfortable.WhenIreachedhisside,Ihadnoideawhattosay.HelookedhandsomeandwarmandlikeeverythingI’ddaydreamedaboutsincekindergarten.
AndnothinglikeWes.
Icouldfinallyseehim—us—clearly,andnowthatIcould,Ididn’twant“theone”tobeMichaelanymore.
“Thisisincredible,”Isaid,lookingattheBogglecar.He’dcoveredshoeboxeswithwhitepaperandaffixedthemtothesidetomaketheboard,whichwasataskthatwould’vetakenatonoftime.“Ican’tbelieveyoudidthis.”
“I’veknownyoulongenough,Liz,toknowthatyou’dneedabiggesturepr—”
“WhataboutLaney?”Iinterrupted.Iwaswhisperingsonooneelsecouldhearme,hopingIcouldsavebothofussomepublichumiliation.
Hedidalittleshrugthingandsaidaroundasmile,“Ireallytooktoheartwhatyousaidinthemusicroom.Justlikeyou,Iwantthepossibilityofsomethingmore.So…whynotyou?Whynotus?”
Ifeltmymouthdropopen,andIquicklyslammeditshut.Butcomeon—seriously?Someoneactuallylistenedtomyterribleideasforonce?IcouldjustkickmyselfforramblingaboutWeswithoutactuallynaminganame.
It’slikeI’dneverseenarom-combeforeorsomething.Talkaboutyourcomedyoferrors.
Iglancedintothecrowdand—ohno—therewasWes.Welockedeyesashestoodnexttothebuilding,watchingmewithanunreadableexpression.Iswallowedandstaredintentlyathisface,thefacethathadbeenkissingminethelasttimeI’dseenhim.
Isilentlybeggedthosebrowneyestogivemeananswer.
Orforhimtogivemeasmile.
Givemesomething,Bennett.Please.
Butheturnedhisheadandlookedawayfromme.
Beforethatpunchtothegutcouldevenregister,IwatchedAlexsidleupbesidehim.Shesmiledandgrabbedhisarm,pullinghimdownclosersoshecouldtalkintohisear.
IcouldbarelybreatheasIstaredatthemwhileeveryoneinthecourtyardlookedatme.Mysilencewasgettingawkward,andIwasveryawareofit.Slowlypeoplebegancheeringandclapping,butIcouldonlyhearmyheartbeatinginmyears.Amidsteverything,IkeptmyeyesonWes.Heliftedhishands,puttwofingersinhismouth,andwhistledloudly.AndthenhedroppedhisrightarmacrossAlex’sshouldersandgavemeathumbs-up.
Rejection,bitterandhot,washedoverme.Theothernight—thekiss,everything—wasablip.Wesdidn’tfeelaboutmethewayIfeltabouthim.Thiswashowitwassupposedtoend.
“Thisisgettingembarrassing,andIhavetotakeoffin,like,twominutes.Doyoumaybewanttoanswer?”Michaellookeduncomfortableashewaited.
Itookadeepbreathandsimplyacceptedtheflowershewasholding—Icouldn’tmanagewordswhenWeswassnugglingwithAlexandwhistlingformetosayyes.ThenMichaelflippedtheposterover,revealingabacksidethatsaidSHESAIDYESinthesameBoggleformat.
Thepeoplestandingaroundclappedand—thankGod—starteddispersing,whileIstoodtherefeelingshell-shocked.Michaelsqueezedmyhandandsaid,“Ireallydohavetogonow,butthisfeltrightafterourtalkinmydad’sroomlastnight.Wecanworkoutthedetailstomorrow,okay?”
“Um,soundsgood.”
“Your‘talk’lastnight?”JocelynsteppedinfrontofmeassoonasMichaelturnedaway,hereyesnarrowed.“YouwerewithMichaelYoung?”
Ifelttheblooddrainfrommyfaceasmyliescaughtuptome.Ifumbledforwordsandsaid,“Itoldyouwewerewatchingmovies—”
“YousaidyouwerehangingoutwithWes.”Sheshookherheadasshesaidinalowvoice,“Whatiswrongwithyou?You’resoscrewedupaboutromanticbullshitthatyoulietoyourbestfriend—andforwhat?Togooutwithaguywho’salreadytalkingtosomeoneelse?”
Iswallowed,feelingtheurgetodefendmyself,eventhoughIknewIwasinthewrong.“Maybeifyouweren’tsojudgmental,Icould’vebeenhonestwithyou.Butyoumakeitsohardsometimes.”
JosslookedatmelikeIwasdisgusting.Andshewasright.“Areyousayingit’smyfaultyou’realiar?”
“Ofcoursenot.God,I’msosorry.Ijust—”
Hereyebrowswentdownasshesquintedatmeandsaid,“Sowhat’sthedealwithWes,then?Doyouevenlikehim?”
Isighed.WasthereanyreasonnottospillitalltoJossnow?“Well,thatpartistrue—Ilikehimalot.”
Shefoldedherarmsoverherchest.“SowhatwereyoudoingatMichael’shouseifyoulikeWes?”
IadjustedmymessengerbagandglancedatKateandCassidy,whoIhadn’tevennoticedwerebehindheruntilthen.“IwenttherewithWes,actually.”
“YouwenttherewithWesandendedupwithMichaelinhisdad’sbedroom?You’rekidding,right?”
“Um,itwasactuallyamusicroom.”
Sheopenedhermouth,butbeforeshecouldspeakIsaid,“ButIknowthat’snotthepoint.Weswasfinewiththewholething—hewantedmetogotalktoMichael.”
“Hedid.”Shegavemeastarethatmadeherlooklikehermother,likealawyerwhohadalyingcriminalonthestandandshewasabouttomakehimcry.
“Yes.”Iclearedmythroatanddecidedtocomeclean.Isaid,“See,he’dbeenhelpingme—”
“OhmyGod,youschemedwithhimtogetMichael,didn’tyou?”Hereyessquintedinrevulsion.“Iknewyou’dloseyourshitwhenheshowedupagain.Whatiswrongwithyou?”
“Nothing.”Iblinkedandtriedtojustifyit.“HeandLaneyweren’tofficialso—”
“Thatexplainstheclothesandthestraightenedhair,doesn’tit?Wereyoulyingtomewhenyouguyswereshoppingtoo?”
Ijustlookedather.Imean,whatcouldIevensay?
“Andyoulikinghimwastotalbullshittoo?”
“Onlyatfirst—”
“Screwyou,Liz.”Shepulledherbaghigheronhershoulderandturnedawayfromme.Kategavemeaclosed-mouthhalfsmile,likeshefeltbadforme,butshewasstillgoingtogowithJoss,andCassidylookedatmelikeIwaskindofawful.
Therewasatimewhenthosetwowouldn’thavetakensides,butsinceI’dblownthemoffonetoomanytimesonseniorevents,theywereTeamJossalltheway.
“Wait.”MythroatwaspinchedandmyvisionblurredasIwatchedherwalkbacktowardtheschool.“Joss,wait!I’msorry,okay?Don’tyouneedaridehome?”
“Notfromyou.”Shejustthrewanarmupintheairandyelled,“I’dratherwalk.”
“Hey,you.”HelenawassittingonastoolinthekitchenwhenIgothome,workingonherlaptopinpaint-splatteredpajamapantsandahoodie.“Howwasyourday?”
“Meh.”Idroppedmybackpackonthefloor,drainedfromcryingallthewayhome,andwenttothefridgetoscopeforsomethinggood.
“OhmyGod,Iforgot—didyouseeWes?”Shelookedupfromherscreen,nearlysquealingthosewords,andIhadtoremembernottorollmyeyes.Itwasn’therfaultthatthestorylinehadchanged.
“Um,yeah.”Wewereoutofchocolatepudding,andthatmademewanttocry.Again.
“Whatisthatface?”
Ishruggedandshutthedoor.“Michaelaskedmetoprom.”
“What?”Helena’smouthdroppedwideopen.“Youarekiddingme.”
“Nope.”Iwenttothepantryandlookedforcookies,wonderingifthefeelinginmystomachthatwouldn’tgoawaywasanulcer.
Ididn’tevenreallyknowwhatanulcerwas.
“Didyouturnhimdown?”
“No.”Igrittedmyteeth.“Actually,Isaidyes.”
“Yousaidyes?”ShesaiditlikeI’djustsaidyestosellingmyorgansontheblackmarketorsomething.“Whywouldyoudothat?OhmyGod,doesWesknow?Oh,poorWes.”
Islammedthepantrydoorandgrabbedmybackpack.PoorWes?PoorWeshadnorealinterestinLittleLiz,butIdidn’thavetheenergytotellherthat.Ortothinkaboutitforanothersecond.Becauseinadditiontohowsoul-crushinglyrejectedIfeltbyhisapparentlackoffeelingsforme,Ifeltduped.
Betrayedbymyownheart.
BecauseIhadknownbetterthantogetdrawninbyhim;I’dalwaysknownbetter.Yetithadhappened.I’dfallenforbasketballshortsandgrosscigarsandrain-soakedkisses.Howcouldthishavehappened?
Beyondthat,I’dschemedandliedandscrewedupmyverybestfriendshipintheworld.And—oh,yeah—I’dalsogotteninthewayofLaneyandMichael,twopeoplewhoactuallyseemedtobemadeforeachother.
Isaid,“Yes,heknows,andtrustme,he’sfine.Ineedtogostudy.”
“Liz?”
Istoodstillbutdidn’tturnherway.“What?”
“IknowyouthoughtyouwantedMichael,butdoyoureallywanttostickwithover-romanticizedideaswhenyoucanhaveanawesomerealthing?”
Over-romanticizedideas.Ascloseasshegotsometimes,Helenadidn’tgetit.Mymotherwould’veunderstood.Mymotherwould’vebeencheeringtheentiretimeformetogoforthemark.
I’dignoredhergoldenruleandwassufferingtheconsequences.
“Liz?”
“Ihavetogostudy.”
“Wait—areyoumadatme?”
Ihoistedmybackpackandletoutmybreath.“Nope.Notatall.”
“Doyouwant—”
“No.God.”IsaiditthroughgrittedteethanditcameoutwayharsherthanI’dintended,butIcouldn’tdothis.Notwithher.“Ijustwanttobeleftalone,okay?”CHAPTERFOURTEEN
“Iamnotrunningaway.”
“Bullshit.”
—HowtoLoseaGuyin10Days
“I’mgoingforarun,”IcalledasIjoggeddownthestairs.Iroundedthecornertothelivingroomandfoundmydadonthecouchwithhisfeetproppeduponthecoffeetable,watchingthenews.Iwasalltiedupinknotsanddidn’tknowwhattothinkaboutanything,soinsteadoftorturingmyself,Iwasgoingtovisitthecemetery.
Nolesstorturous,right?
Ilookedtowardthekitchen,buttheonlymovementIsawintherewasMr.Fitzpervert,rollingontherugunderthetableandkickinghiscatnipmousewithhisbackpaws.“Where’sHelena?”
“ThesecondIwalkedin,shesaidshehadtogo.Hadanerrandorsomethinglikethat.Areyouokay?”
Ihadnointerestinaheart-to-heart,soIsaid,“Yep—justtired.ThinkImightbecomingdownwithacold.”
Henodded,lookedatmelikeheknewsomething,andsaid,“Helenasaidthesamething.”
“Ohyeah?”Iputonmyheadphones.“Bummer.”
Hesighed.“Becareful.”
“Willdo.”
AfterturningonmyGarmin,Itookoffdownthestreet,intentionallyavoidinglayingeyesonhiscar.Imean,whatwaswiththat,anyway?WhydidIfeelsomethinglikenostalgiawhenIlaideyesuponWes’sbeat-upoldcarthatseemedtohavesurvivedouraccidentwithoutanyvisibledamage?
NostalgiathatmademewanttotakeabattohiscaràlaBeyoncéintheLemonadevideoandcausesomevisibledamage.I’dbeenreplayingeverythinginmymind,everyawfulsecondofwhat’dhappened,andWes’srejectionwasstartingtopissmeoff.
Becauseitwasn’tjustthathe’drejectedme.No,itwasthefactthathe’dknownmyendgoalwasMichael,yethe’dstillpushedhardonthecharmwithhisdinnerdateandhisSecretAreateasingandhisstraight-from-The-Notebookkissintherain.
HeknewIwassusceptibletoromance,andhe’duseditagainstme.
Andforwhat?
HewasmovingontoAlex,sowhat’devenbeenthepoint?
Asifthatwasn’tbadenough,everytimeIthoughtofJocelyn,mystomachhurtsointenselythatIwantedtopuke.HowwasIevergoingtoearnherforgiveness?I’dbeenalyingweasellately,andnomatterhowmuchIjustifiedit,Icouldn’tfindadefensetomakeitokay.
Iturnedintothecemeteryandwasgladitwasgettingdark,becauseIdidn’tfeellikebeingpoliteortalkingtoanyonewhomightbenearby.Sometimestherewereotherpeoplethere,doingthesamethingasme,andsometimestheylikedtosmall-talk.Ijustwantedtositbymymother,spillthedetailsofmylatestdebacle,andthenbaskintheimaginaryfeelingthatIwasn’talone.
ButwhenIgotcloser,IcouldseeafigurestandingrightwhereIwantedtobe.AndjustlikethetimewhenWesshowedupthere,Iwasinstantly—andillogically—irate.Whowasinmyspot?
ThepersonturnedaroundasIapproached,andIsawthatitwasHelena.Herfacewasserious,andshewasstillwearingthosepaint-stainedpants.
“Liz.Whatareyoudoinghere?”shesaid.
Iraisedmyhandtowardmymom’sgravemarker.“Nooffense,butwhatareyoudoinghere?”
Shelookedstartledbymyappearance,almostlikeI’dinterruptedsomething.Shedraggedahandthroughherhairandsaid,“IguessyoucouldsayIneededawordwithyourmother.”
“Why?”
“What?”
Iinhaledthroughmynoseandtriedtostopthisunexpectedragefromescaping.“Youdidn’tknowmymother,soIdon’tunderstandwhyyouwouldneedawordwithher.Youneverspoketoherorheardhervoiceorevenwatchedasillyromanticcomedywithher,socallmeirrational,butitjustseemsreallyweirdthatyou’recampedoutwhereshe’sburied.”
“IwashopingshemightknowhowIcangetthroughtoyou.”Sheblinkedfastandpressedherlipstogether,crossingherarmsoverherchest.“Listen,Libby,Iknow—”
“Don’tcallmethat.”
“What?”
“Libby.It’swhatshecalledme,butthatdoesn’tmeanthatyouneedto,okay?”
“Whatisthis?”Shesaiditinatiredvoicethathadabitofanedgetoit.“Ifeellikeyou’retryingtofightwithme.”
Iblinkedfast.“No,I’mnot.”Itotallywas.NobodywhoIwantedtofightwithwasspeakingtome.SowhynotHelena?
“Really?”
“Yes,really.”
“BecauseyoujustgotmadthatIcalledyoubythenicknamethatI’veheardyourdadandthenext-doorneighborcallyou.Idon’tseeyouhavingaproblemwithanyonebutmesayingit.”
“Well,theyactuallyknewher.”
Shelookedatme,exudingdisappointmentatthebratIknewIwasbeing.“Ican’thelpthatIdidn’t.”
“Iknow.”Itwasn’taboutwhetherornotsheknewmymom;itwasabouttheinfringementofmymother’smemories.Herlegacies.Imean,itwasn’tirrationaltotrytokeepthosepure,wasit?
Shesighedanddroppedherarmstohersides.“Youdoknow,Liz,thatyourmother’smemorywon’tdisappearifyougetclosertome.”
“Excuseme?”Thewordsfeltlikeaphysicalslapbecause—God—she’djustlentvoicetomybiggestfear.HowwoulditnotdisappearifHelenagotcloser?Becausenomatterwhathesaid,it’ddisappearedformyfather.Whenhetalkedaboutmymomnow,itwaslikehewasreferencingsomehistoricalfigurethathewasincrediblyfondof.
Herplaceinhisheartwasgone,andsheonlylivedinhisheadnow.
Helenatiltedherheadandsaid,“Itwon’t.You’llstillrememberherexactlyasyoudorightnow,evenifyouletmeinalittle.”
“Howdoyouknowthat?”Iblinkedbacktearsandsaid,“Whatifitdoesdisappear?Iknowthatyou’regreatformydadandsupercool,andIknowthatyou’reheretostay.Iknowallofthat,butitdoesn’tchangethefactthatyou’rehereandsheisn’tandthatfeelssortofshitty.”
Hermouthsnappedshut.“Ofcourseitdoes.Iwould’vebeenlostwithoutmymom.Itotallygetthatitfeelsawful.Butpushingmeawayisnotgoingtobringherback,Liz.”
Isniffledandwipedatthetearsonmycheeks.“Yeah,IthinkIknowthat,Helena.”
“Maybeifwe—”
“No.”IgrittedmyteethandwishedshewoulddisappearsoIcouldcryandlieonthesoftgrass.Butifshewasn’tleaving,I’dhaveto.Iputinmyearbuds,scrolledto“EnterSandman”byMetallica,andsaid,“MaybeifyoujustleavemealoneandletmelivemylifewithouttryingtofillhershoeseverytimeIturnaround,we’llallbehappier.”
Ididn’twaitforhertorespond.IstartedrunningthewayI’dcome,onlyIpushedmylegstosprintasfastasIpossiblycould.Iswipedatmycheeksandtriedoutrunningthesadness,butitstayedwithmeallthewayhome.
IwasalmosttomyhousewhenIsawWesgettingoutofhiscar.
Heslammedthedoorandstartedwalkingacrossthestreet,towhereIwas,beforehenoticedme.Hegavemeachin-nodandsaid,“Hey.”
Hey.Likewehadn’tkissed,ortexted,ortalkedonthephone,oreatenhamburgerstogether.Justhey.Wow—hereallywasajerk,wasn’the?Istoppedrunningandyankedoutoneofmyearbuds.“Hey.Bytheway,thanksforhelpingmegetMichael.”Thewordsspilledout.IwasawareofmyownhorriblenessasIrackedmybrainforsomethingtosaythatwouldmakehimhurtasbadlyasIdid,andIcouldn’tseemtostopmyself.
Hiseyesmovedovermyfacebeforehesaid,“Sure,althoughhedoesstillhavethatpeskyLaneyaround.Ithinkyou’llhavetodealwiththatbeforeyouofficially‘get’him.”
“Nah.”Iwavedahandandswalloweddownmyemotionswithasmile.“Hetoldmethathe’snotgoingtomakeamove.”
“Hedid?”Herubbedhiseyebrowandlookedpastmeforaminutebeforehisgazereturnedtomyface.MybreathcaughtasIlookedatthesameeyesthathadbeenhotandwildformeinthefrontseatofhiscar,andhesaid,“Well,you’rejustabouttogeteverythingyou’veeverwanted,then,aren’tyou?Whydidn’tyoutellmethatbefore?”
Um,itwashardtotalkwhenweweredrivingoffacliffandthenyouwereeatingmyface.Iinhaledthroughmynose.Iwassopissedathim—atmyself—sodamneddisappointed,andIwantedtomakehimfeelsomeofthat.“LikeI’mreallygoingtoshareallmysecretswiththepersonwhowasjustdoingmeasolidandfillinginforMr.Right.”
Heswallowedandcrossedhisarmsoverhischest.“Goodthinking.”
“Right?”Iexpelledafakelaughandsaid,“Imean,nooffense,butyouguyscouldn’tbemoredifferent.He’slikeagourmetrestaurant,andyou’reasuper-funsportsbar.He’salimo,andyou’reaJeepWrangler.He’sanOscar-winningfilm,andyou’re…acar-racingmovie.Bothgood,butgoodfordifferentpeople.”
Thosedarkeyesnarrowedmarginally.“Isthereapointtothis,Buxbaum?”
“Nah.”Ireachedup,pulledoutmyponytail,anddugmyfingersintomyhair.Itfeltlikeavictory,thewayhewasvisiblyirritated.“Justgratefultoyouforeverythingyoudidforme.”
“Really.”
“Yep.”Ididmybesttoforcemymouthintoagianthappysmile.“YoushouldaskAlextoprom,bytheway.”
“Yeah,Iwasalreadyplanningonit.”
Ifeltthatoneinmyheart.PicturinghimsmilingatAlexmadethebacksofmyeyelidsburn.Isaidthroughthatfakesmile,“Weshouldallgoasagroup—that’dbefun.”
Helookedpissedwhenhesaid,“Don’tyouthinkit’sabadideatomix‘gourmetrestaurants’with‘super-funsportsbars’?”
Ishrugged.“Alexislikeaverynicerestaurant,soI’msureifyoutwosticktogether,you’lllevel-upto,like,atrendysushiplace.”
HelookedatmelikeIwasscum,andhewasright.Heflippedhiskeysaroundhisfingersandsaid,“Evenso,I’drathergosolowithAlex.”
ThenhiseyesmoveddowntomyT-shirtandrunningshorts,andhisfacegotapitying,I-know-alllooktoit.“Oh.Youjustsawyourmom.”
Iblinked.“Whatdoesthathavetodowithanything?”
HegavemealooklikeIshouldknowwhathemeant.
“What?”
“Comeon,areyouthatlackinginself-awareness?Youholdontothisnotionofyourangelicmotherandtheromanticcomedylikehergreatestwishinlifewasforherdaughtertobesweptoffherfeetinfuckinghighschool.Justbecauseshelikedthosemoviesdoesn’tmeanthatifyouliveyourlifelikeanactualteenager,you’redisappointingher.”
“Whatareyoueventalkingabout?Justbecause—”
“Comeon,Liz—atleastbehonestwithyourselfhere.Youdresslikeher,youwatchtheshowsshewatched,andyoudoeverythinginyourpowertobehaveasifshe’swritingthescreenplayofyourlifeandyou’rehercharacter.”
MythroatachedandIblinkedfastashiswordscameatmelikeblows.
“Butnewsflash:you’renotacharacterinamovie.Youcanwearjeanssometimesandstraightenyourhairifyoufeellikeitandcurselikeasailorandhonestlydowhateveryouwant,andshe’dstillthinkyou’reamazingbecauseyouare.Iguaranteeshewould’vefoundyoucharmingasfuckwhenyouweresmokingaSwisherintheSecretArea—IknowIdid.Andwhenyouattackedmeinmycar.Talkaboutoutofcharacter.Itwas—”
“OhmyGod,Ididnotattackyou.Areyoukiddingmewiththat?”Itwasofficial—Iwasdyingofmortification.BecausewhileI’dbeenhummingalongtolovesongssincethemakeoutsessioninhiscar,he’dbeenconsideringitterribly“outofcharacter”forme.
Heignoredmeandsaid,“Butyou’resocaughtupinthisideaofwhoyouthinkyourmomwantsyoutobe,orMichael,orevenme.Forgetme!Bewhoyouwanttobe.Justdoit,andquitplayinggames,becauseyou’rehurtingpeople.”
“Shutup,Wes.”Iwascryingagain,andIhatedhimatthatmoment.Fornotunderstanding,butalsoforbeingright.I’dthought,regardlessofthepromsituation,thathewastheonepersonwhohadunderstoodaboutmymom.Iwipedmycheekswiththebacksofmyknuckles.“Youdon’tknowshitaboutmymom,okay?”
“God,don’tcry,Liz.”Heswallowedandlookedpanicked.“Ijustdon’twantyoutomissoutonthegoodstuff.”
“Likewhat—you?”Igrittedmyteeth.Iwantedtohowlandkickthingsover.InsteadIsaid,“Areyouthegoodstuff,Wes?”
Hisvoicewasquietwhenhesaid,“Youneverknow.”
“Yes,Idoknow.You’renot—you’retheoppositeofeverythingIwant.You’rethesamepersonyouwerewhenyouruinedmyLittleFreeLibrary,andyou’rethesamepersonmymomthoughtwastoowildformetoplaywith.”Itookinashakybreathandsaid,“YoucanhavetheForeverSpotandlet’sjustforgetthiswholethingeverhappened.”
Iturnedandwalkedawayfromhim,andIwasjustopeningthefrontdoorwhenIheardhimsay,“Finebyme.”
Ifellasleepbeforeeightthatnight,listeningto“DeathwithDignity”bySufjanStevensonrepeat.IslepttheentirenightwithmyBeatson,andthatsoftsonghauntedmyearsuntilmorning.
Mother,Icanhearyou
AndIlongtobenearyou
Idreamedofher.Irarelydidanymore,butthatnight,Ichasedmymotherinmydreams.
ShewastrimmingrosesinthefrontyardandIcouldhearherlaughing,butIcouldn’tseeherface.Shewastoofaraway.AllIcouldmakeoutwerehergardeningglovesandherfancyblackdresswiththeruffledcollar.AndnomatterhowmuchIwalked,orhowfastIran,Iwasn’tcloseenoughtoseeherunblurredface.
Iranandran,butshenevergotanycloser.
Ididn’twakeupwithagasplikeinthemovies,thoughthatmight’vemademefeelbetter.InsteadIwokeupwithasadresignationasthesongcontinueditssoft,solemnloop.CHAPTERFIFTEEN
“Iloveyou.I’velovedyoufornineyears;I’vejustbeentooarrogantandscaredtorealizeit,and…well,nowI’mjustscared.So,Irealizethiscomesataveryinopportunetime,butIreallyhavethisgiganticfavortoaskofyou.Chooseme.Marryme.Letmemakeyouhappy.Oh,thatsoundslikethreefavors,doesn’tit?”
—MyBestFriend’sWedding
Thedaysleadinguptopromcreptby,mostlybecauseIwastheworld’sbiggestloner.Jocelynwasn’ttalkingtome,Weswasjustaneighbornow,andHelenawascompletelyavoidingme.
Iworkedeverynightandpickedupextrahours,soatleastIwasmakingbankinmysolitary,patheticlife.AndIwatchedmyfavoritemovieswhenIwasn’tworking,soIhadmyemotional-supportDVDstokeepmefromthinkingaboutallthethingsIdidn’twanttothinkabout.
Michaelmetmeatmylockerthedayafterthepromposal,andhewasasthoroughandefficientashe’dalwaysbeen.Wediscussedwhattimehe’dpickmeup,whatcolorswe’dbewearing,andwherewewereeating.
Hewasperfect.
Whichwaswhy,asIdidmyhaironthedayofprom,Itriedtoconvincemyselfthatmaybeeverythinghadhappenedforareason.Imean,theJossthingwasstillabignightmarethatIhadtofix,anditfeltoddlyemptythatHelenawasoutforthedaywhenIwasgettingreadyforprom,butmaybeI’dbeenmeanttomomentarilygoovertothedarksidewithWesinorderformetoreallyappreciatetheincrediblelightnessofMichael.
Acautionarytale,perhaps?IturnedontheMichaelplaylistasIstraightenedmyhairandtriedgettingexcitedforthenight.ThebottomlinewasthatIwasgoingtopromwithMichaelYoung,theboyI’dlovedforaslongasI’dbeenoldenoughtocreatememories.
Itwasactuallyhappening.
TheproblemwiththeplaylistwasthatallthesongsnowhadWesmemoriesattachedtothem.
TheVanMorrisonsongfrommyoriginalmeet-cutewithMichaelnowmademethinkofWesbumpingintousinthehallwayandthengivingmeasmart-asslookaboutmytapedwindshield.AndtheEdSheeransongfromthepartynowremindedmeofWesgivingmehispants—andholdingthemupforme—afterIgotvomitedon.
“Dammit,Bennett,getoutofmyhead.”Ifinishedmyhairandmovedontomakeup,applyingcasualglamsoIlookedbetterthanusualbutnottoomade-up.WhenIwasfinallyfinished,Icheckedmyphoneand,ofcourse,therewerenomessages.
Iputonmydress—itwassopretty,Iwantedtobeburiedinit,bytheway—butitfeltslightlywrong.Jocelynshouldhavebeenthere,puttingonherdresstoo,andHelenashouldhavebeenhangingaround,makingjokesandtakingpictures.
IshushedthevoicethataddedLaneytothatlist,includingherassomeonewhoshouldhavebeengettingreadytohaveherdreampromwithMichaelbutcouldn’tbecauseI’ddecidedtotakeheroutoftheequation.
JustwhenIwasabouttogodownstairs,Iheardadoorslamandlookedoutmywindow.Weswalkedouthisfrontdoorinablacktuxedo,andhewascarryingacorsagebox.Hehoppeddownthestepswithhisusualrelaxedgait,andhisdarksunglassesmadehimlookrebelliousinadditiontohandsome.
Kindofperfect,andithurtmyeyestolookathim.
Ipressedahandtomystomachashewalkedtohiscar,whichwasparkedinthedrivewayforonce.Itlookedlikehe’dwashedit,becauseallthemudthathadbeensplatteredonthesideforaslongasIcouldrememberwasfinallygone.Heclimbedinside,starteditup,andIfeltsomethingpinchinmycenterwhenhedroveaway.
Iwentdownstairsandwasputtingonmyshoeswhenthedoorbellrang.WhileIfeltacoupleofhalf-heartedbutterfliesinmystomach,theanticipationwasminimal.
But—andIwashopefulwiththisbut—ifIreallypushedmyself,perhapstherewasstillthepossibilityofanenjoyablenightwithasweetdate.Istoodandranmyhandsoverthefrontofmydress,walkedovertothefrontdoor,andpulleditopen.
Wow.
Michaelwasonmydoorstep,histuxedoperfectlyaccentuatinghisblondhairandtanskin.HelookedlikeHollywood,likeoneborntoweartuxedos.Hesmiledatmeanditwasallwarmthandgoodfeelingsashesaid,“Wow.Youlookgreat,Liz.”
“Thanks.”
“Stop!”Mydadstrodeintotheroomwithahalfsmileonhisface,cargoshorts,andaGOTMILK?shirt.“Ineedtogetpictures,youtwo.Helenahadstufftodo,”hesaid,hiseyeslandingonme.“Butshe’dkillmeifIdidn’tgetphotos.”
Ibittheinsideofmycheekastheguiltcurdledinmystomach.BecauseeventhoughI’dmeantwhatI’dsaidtoHelena,Ifeltliketrashformakingherfeelbad.
“Ofcourse.”Michaelgavemydadacharmingsmileandsaid,“Nicetoseeyouagain,Mr.Buxbaum.”
“Youtoo,Michael.Howareyourfolks?”Ashesaidthis,mydadgesturedforustogostandinfrontofthepiano.“Iheardyourdadisacolonelnow.”
“Heis.”Wewalkedtothepianoandfacedthecamera.“Hegottheofficialtitlechangelastyear.”
“Dowehavetouseatitleforyounow?”Myfatherthoughthewasfunny.“LikeJuniorColonelMichael?”
“Comeon,Dad,he’snotthesonofthechickenguy.”Irolledmyeyes,andMichaellaughed.“Justtakethepicture.”
Mydaddirectedustostandinasuper-awkwardpose,withMichael’sarmaroundmywaist,andIjustshutmymouthandsmiledtogetitoverwith.Thankfullyhewasquick,andafteraboutfourshotsheletusleave.
“Havefun,kids.”
“Sorryabouthim,”ImutteredtoMichaelaswewalkedtohiscar.“He’sjustasdorkyashealwayswas.”
“Yourdadwasalwaysgreat,”hesaid,smilingasheopenedthepassengerdoorforme.
“Yeah—Is’pose.”Igrabbedahandfuloflongdressandgotin,andlookedoutthewindowafterheshutthedoorandwalkedaroundtotheotherside.Ilookedatmydadontheporch,smilingandwavingallbyhimself,anditoccurredtomethathecould’vebeenlikethatallalongifhe’dnevermetHelena.
Alone.
Itwaswrongthatshewasn’tthere.
“Soyou’regoodwithSebastian’s?”Hepulledoutofthedriveway,andInoticedhiscarwasimmaculate.Clean,vacuumed,notaspeckofventdust—theinteriorwasperfect.Fromsomewhereinthecenterofmybrain,IwonderediftheinsideofWes’scarlookedlikethattoo.Imean,he’dclearlywashedtheoutsideoftheBronco.WasittoimpressAlex?
“Liz?”
“What?Hm?”Iblinkedandcamebackfromthedelay.“Yes.Sebastian’ssoundsgreat.”
Whenwegottotherestaurant,thehostessledustoastunningtablewithwhitelinens,avasefulloflilies,andwhitecandles,alreadylit.Isatinoneofthechairsandsaid,“Wow.”
Michaelsatacrossfrommeandimmediatelyputhisnapkinonhislap.“IassumedthatromanticLittleLizwouldwantflowersbeforeherseniorprom.”
“Wait,what?Yougotthoseforme?”
Hesmiledandsighed.“ItwastheleastIcoulddo.Ikindofcaughtyouoffguard,lastminute,withthewholething.”
Iliftedoffmyseatjustenoughtoleanforwardandsmellthegorgeousflowers.Howcouldhebethatthoughtful?Itwassuchaperfectgesture.“Yeah,notgonnalie,Iwasshockedwhenyouasked.”
“Afterwhatyousaidinthemusicroom,Idecidedwhatthehell.”
WhatexactlyhadIsaid?IrackedmybrainbutIwasclueless.I’dbeensofocusedonWesandAlexthatIreallyhadn’tpaidattentiontoMichaelatall.Badmove,Liz.
“WhataboutLaney?”
Ashadowpassedoverhisfacebeforequicklydisappearing.Hesaid,“She’sgoingtopromwithherfriends.”
“Oh.Andyou’regoodwiththat?”
“Here’sthething.Ihavenoideawhatshewants,andIdon’twanttowasteseniorpromtryingtofigureitout.I’drather—”
Thewaitershowedup,interruptinghimwithmenus,specials,anddrinkofferings,andIcouldtellMichaelwasrelieved.ItwascleartomethathewantedLaneybutwastooafraidtoputhimselfoutthere.He’dratherpretendIwashismagicaldate,safeLittleLizbutmaybesomethingmore,thanriskgoingforitandgettingdenied.
Thatshould’vemademefeellikegarbage,butIdidn’treallyfeelanythingaboutit.Infact,Ifeltthesameabouthisnon-burning-loveformeasIwouldabouthisopiniononthewholeketchupvs.mustardcondimentwar.
Utterlyunaffected.
Holycrap—Ididnotcare.
Ifeltmorerelaxedjustbyadmittingittomyself.Becausereally—whywasIforcingit?Michaelwasn’ttheone—nobig,right?AndmaybeIwasn’tgoingtofindtheone.Thatwasokaytoo,right?WhywasIwastingmylifetryingtoliveuptotheridiculousexpectationsthatIwassettingformyself?
Ichangedthesubjectbypointingoutatwentiesartdecoprintonthewall,andbythetimethefoodcame,wewereinthethickofaconversationaboutTheGreatGatsby
“Ihearwhatyou’resaying,Liz—Ido.ButDaisy’ssolepurposeinthestoryistobeGatsby’sunattainabledream.Sheisthegreenlight.Soshecan’tbeamonstrousantagonist.”
Irolledmyeyesandputapieceofsteakinmymouth.“Wrong.Hismemoryofheristhegreenlight.Remember—‘Hiscountofenchantedobjectshaddiminishedbyone.’Oncehereconnectswithherintheflesh,she’snolongerthegreenlight.”
Henoddedandspreadbutteronhisroll.“Thatistrue.”
Isaid,“Daisyinthefleshisamonstrousantagonist.Shetoyswithhisaffection,cheatsonherhusband,andletsJaycoverforherwhenshedrivesoverherhusband’smistress.Then,whenhe’smurderedandlefttobeapoolbobber,sheleavestownwithouteverlookingback.”
“Well,”hesaid,reachingoutandgrabbinghiswaterglass,“thoseareallvalidpoints.Istilldon’tthinkshe’sthevillainhere,butyou’vesucceededinknockingherdownanotchforme.”
“Aha—victoryismine.”Idippedmyforkintothecreamybakedpotatoandscoopedoutabite.“Atthisrate,beforeIdieI’llberesponsibleforturninghundredsofreadersagainstDaisyBuchanan.”
“Alifewelllived,Isuppose.”
We’djustfinishedwithdinnerwhendessertshowedup—he’dtakenthelibertyoforderingcheesecakeformeaheadoftime—andIverynearlyfaintedwithgratitude.
Istuckmyforkintothecheesecakeandasked,“HowdidyouknowIlovecheesecake?”
Heleanedhisfaceforwardandsaid,“Ididn’t—Ijustwantedit.”
Ismiledandfeltthecheesecakeslideagainsttheroofofmymouth.“Well,itwasstillthoughtful.”
“Hey,youguys,”cameavoicefrombehindme.
Ipickedupmywaterandtookasip.
Michaelsaid,“Hey,Lane.”
ThewaterwentdownthewrongtubeandIstartedcoughing.Atinysquirtshotoutofmymouth,butIquicklyrecovered,catchingthespraywithmynapkin,thoughittookmeasolidtensecondstostopcoughing.IcouldfeeltheeyesofeveryoneintherestaurantonmeasMichaelasked,“Youokay?”
Iblinkedawaytearsandnodded,acouplemorecough-spurtsforcingtheirwayoutbeforeIwasabletosay,“I’mf-fine.”
Anothercough.
ItriedforacalmsmileasItookadeepbreathandattemptedtoregainmycomposure.
“Ihatewhenthathappens.”Michaeltriedmakingmefeellessembarrassedbygrinningandsaying,“Iswearithappenstome,like,onceamonth.”
“Same,”Laneysaid,walkingaroundthetableasiftomakesureIcouldseejusthowprettyshelookedwhileItriedbeingahumanfountain.“Drinkingishard,right?”
Michaellaughedandshesmiledathim,andIkindoffeltlikespittingwateratthetwoofthem.NotbecauseIcaredthattheyseemedadorablyperfect,butbecauseitmadememissWes.Laneymust’verealizedshewasjuststandingandstaringatmydatebecausesheblinkedandsaid,“Oh.Well,Ishouldgobacktomytable.Havefuntonight,guys.”
“You,too,Lane,”Imuttered,anddidalittlewavewithmyfork.Yeah,someattitudeswerehardtochange.
Michaellookedalittlelostforasecondaftershewalkedaway,butherecoveredandtookabiteofhischeesecake.“Wow—thisisreallygood.”
Inoddedandstabbedmycheesecakewithmyfork,scrapingthefillingalloverthefancyplate.“Yeah.”
Idon’tknowwhatIwasthinking,butIasked,“Didyouknowherwhenyoulivedherethefirsttime?Laney,thatis.”
Hismouthturnedupalittleandhegrinned.“Oh,yeah.ShewasatotalbratbackthenandusedtotellonmeallthetimeatrecesswhenIdidn’tletherplaykickballwithus.Ihatedthatlittlesnot.”
Okay,thatmademesmile.“Ihatedhertoo.”
“Honestly,Iexpectedhertogrowintoatotalwitch.”
Hadn’tshe?
“Butsomehowshedidn’t.Didyouknowthatshevolunteerseveryweekendattheanimalshelter?”
“Wow.”Seriously?EventhoughIwassuddenlyempathetictoMichaelandLaney’sstar-crossed-loversplight,thatdidn’tmeanIwantedfirsthandknowledgethatLaneyMorganwasabetterhumanthanme.“Um,no,Ididnotknowthat.”
“Andshe’ssavingupsoshecangoonamissiontripthissummer.”
Iwantedtoflipthetableandyellsomethingalongthelinesof“Areyoufuckingkiddingme?”
InsteadInoddedandsaid,“Ihadnoidea.”
“Butlet’stalkaboutyou,Liz.”Hesethischinonhishand.“Westoldmethatyou’re‘literally’thecoolestpersonhe’severmet,soyou’vechangedalottoo.Imean,thelasttimeIsawyoubeforewemoved,youworeakimonoandbrightredlipsticktoaneighborhoodcookout.Youateyourhotdogwithsilverware.”
Ilaughedinspiteofmyselfashesaid,“That’sonehellofalevel-up.”
Iclearedmythroatandsaid,“Weswasexaggerating.Imaynoteathotdogswithaknifeandforkanymore,butIhaven’tchangedthatmuch.”
“Don’tbemodest.”Hepulledouthisphoneandstartedscrolling,clearlylookingforsomething.Afteraroundthirtyseconds,hemuttered,“Boom”andheldouthisphoneformetolook.“See?”
Itookhisphoneandlookedatthescreen.ItwasamessagethreadbetweenMichaelandWes,datedrightaroundthetimeWesagreedtohelpme.
Wes:She’sdefinitelycute,butshe’salsocoolAF.
Michael:Sheis?Thoughtshewasalwayskindofhigh-strung.
Wes:Lizis…different.She’sthekindofgirlwhowearsadresswheneveryoneelsewearsjeans.ShelistenstomusicinsteadofwatchingTV.Shedrinksblackcoffee,hasasecrettattoo,runsthreemileseverydayrainorshine,andstillpracticesthepiano.
Michael:Yousoundcuffedalreadylol.
Wes:Whatever.Whattimeareyougoingtobethere?
Myeyeswerescratchyasmyheartstutteredinmychest.Igaveanexaggeratedeyerollandhandedbackhisphone.“Thatisn’treal.”
“What?”
Isighed,anditoccurredtomethatitwasagoodtimetofessup.MaybeifIconfessedmysins,hecouldfollowhisheartandfindhappinesswithLaney.BecausewhyshouldtheysufferjustbecauseIwasashitshow?Ilookedathimandsaid,“Hewastryingtohelpme.IaskedWestotalkmeuptoyou,sothat’swhyhesaidallthat.Hewasdoingmeafavor.”
Hiseyebrowscrinkled.“Areyouserious?”
Ididn’twanttomakethingsweirdwithhimandWes,soIjustglossedoverhowplannyitallhadbeenandprettymuchjustsaidthatWesdidmethattinyfavor.
Hegavealittlechuckle.“Youreallyhaven’tchangedthatmuch,then,haveyou?”
Thatmademelaugh.“Sadlynot.”
IwentontotellhimabouthowmywaitressuniformhadactuallybeenmyfavoritedressandhowI’dtotallymadeupTheDiner,andwebothlaugheduntilwehadtearsinoureyes.
Iexcusedmyselfandwenttotherestroomwhilehesettledthebill,andoncethedoorclosedbehindme,itwasastruggletokeepthetearsatbay.
Because—Wes’stext.God.Yes,he’dsentittohelpme,butallthosethingshe’dsaid?Iwantedhimtoseemethatwaysobadly.He’dgoneaboveandbeyondwhatI’daskedhimtodowhenhe’dsentthattext,andnowIwouldneverbethesame.
“Oh.Hey,Liz.”Laneycameoutofabathroomstallandbegantowashherhands.
“Hey,Laney.”IturnedonthefauceteventhoughIhadn’tevenusedthebathroom,andstartedwashingmyhands.
“Iloveyourdress—it’sgorgeous.”Shesmiledatmeinthemirror.
“Thanks.Same,onlymore,”Imuttered,andgesturedtowardthelongpinkgown.
“Areyouokay?”
Igaveherside-eyeinthemirror.“Yeah,why?”
Sheshruggedandlookeddownatherhands.“You’reherewithMichaelYoung,andhegotyouflowersandcheesecakeandcan’tstoplookingatyou,butyoulooksad.”
Buttout,Lanesville.
“Isitbecauseofyourmom?”
“What?”IwassoshockedbyherwordsthatIstoppedlatheringmyhands.Theonlysoundinthebathroomwasthefaucetcontinuingtorun.
“Oh,I’msosorry.”Laney’ssmiledropped.“I’mtactless.I’msosorryforsayinganything.Ijustthinkallthetime—whenIseeyou—abouthowharditwouldbenottohaveyourmomaround,especiallyduringyoursenioryearwheneveryoneissharingallthesemilestoneswiththeirparents.I’mso,sosorryforbringingitup.”
Istaredatmyfoamyhandsanddidn’thavewords.LaneyMorganhadseensomethingthatnooneelsehad,anditfelttotallyforeigntobeunderstoodbyher.“No,it’sfine.Ididn’tknowwhatyoumeant.”
Sheturnedoffherfaucetandreachedforahandtowel.“Still.SometimesIcan’thelpstickingmyfootinmymouth.I’mreallysorry.”
IraisedmyeyestothemirrorasIrinsedoffthesoap.“You’reright,though.Itsucks.That’snotwhatmyproblemisatthemoment,butthatisalwaysthere.”
“Ican’timagine.Mymomstilltalksaboutyouallthetime.”
“What?”Ishutoffthefaucetandstraightened.“Yourmomremembersme?”
Laneynodded.“Sheusedtocomeuptoschoolforlunch—rememberhowparentsdidthatsometimesinelementaryschool?”
Inoddedandgrabbedatowel,rememberinghowsmileyhermomhadbeenwhenshe’djoinedtheclass.
“Itwastheyearyourmomdied,andshesaidyouhadthebiggest,saddesteyesshe’deverseenandshewantedtotakeyouhomewithher.Shealwaysusedtogetanextraorderoffriesincaseyouwantedsome,butyoualwaysjustshookyourheadno.”
Iblinkedhardthen,butcouldn’tstoponetearfromescaping.“Idon’trememberthat,butIdorememberhowperfectyourmomseemed.”
“Ohno,Liz,Ididn’tmeantomakeyoucry.”Laneygrabbedatissueandhandedittome.“Yourmakeupisperfect,soknockitoff.”
Thatmademesmile,andIwipedatmyeyes.“Sorry.”
Sheleanedtowardthemirrorandcheckedherteethbeforestraightening.“Ishouldprobablygoback.AndMichael’sprobablywonderingwherehisdatewent.”
Shehadthesameslow-blink,slo-modisappointmentthatMichaelhadwhenshesaidthat.Ibreathedinthroughmynosebeforesaying,“YouknowMichaelonlyaskedmeasafriend,right?”Itwaspracticallytrue,soIdidn’taddthistomytallyoffibsthathadbeenpilinguplately.
IsweartoGod,LaneyMorganlookednervousandawkward.Shesaid,“Noway!Isawthepromposal.Thatcan’tbetrue.”
“Itis.AndMichaeltoldmethatyouguyshavebeentalking,buthealsothoughtmaybeyouweren’toveryourex.Whichisprobablywhyheaskedmetoprominsteadofyoutobeginwith.”
Shelookedlikeshedidn’tknowhowtorespond,butsomethingthatlookedalittlebitlikehopesparkedinhereyes.
Iglancedinthemirrorandranahandovermyhair.“Ifyouhavefeelingsforhim,you’regoingtohavetotellhim.Heseemstobeshyaboutputtinghimselfoutthere,whichiswhyhecouldneverbetheleadinarom-com,bytheway,soifyoulikeMike,you’regoingtohavetobebrave.”
Herclosedmouthturnedupintoalittlesmileandthegirl’sprincesseyesweresparkling.“Y’know,you’rekindofcool,Liz.”
Iwastheantithesisofcool,butitwasnicetohear.“Doesthatmeanthatyoulikehim?”
Shenoddedandhereyesgotevenbigger.“Youhavenoidea.Ihaveneverfeltlikethisbeforeaboutanyone.”
Irolledmyeyesandtossedthetissue.“Well,thendon’tdragyourfeet.”
Iwentbacktothetable,whereMichaellookedreadytogo.
“Youready?”Hesethisnapkinonhisplateandlookedatmeexpectantly.
“Let’sgopromitup.”
Helaughedandweleft,andaswedrovetowardtheconventioncenterwherepromwasbeingheld,IwishedIcouldjustgohome.IwashappythatMichaelandLaneyweredestinedtohavetheirmagicalnight,butasidefromthat,nogoodcouldcomefromprom.
Joss.Wes.Alex.
EveryoneIcaredabout—whowasgoingtoprom—didn’twanttoseeme.
“Ifinishedthatbookalready,bytheway.”
“Whichbook?’IglancedoutthewindowaswepassedMcDonald’s.
Heclearedhisthroat,andwhenIturned,myhead,hegavemealook.“Thatbook.”
Thatmademesmile.“Ofcourse.Likeit’sbrown-bagfodder.Thatbook.”
HestartedtalkingabouttheBridgertonbook,andIforgotabouteverythingelseintheworldashewaxedpoeticabouthowgreatasettingapirateshipwas.HeandIdiscusseditrightupuntilhewasturningoffthecarintheparkinglot.
“Weshouldprobablygoin,Iguess?”IglancedattheeventcenterthroughthewindshieldandwasnervousforthefirsttimesinceI’dbeenwaitingforMichaeltopickmeup.
“That’showthesethingswork.”Hepulledoutthekeysandsaid,“Let’sdothis?”
Iswipedglossovermylipsandopenedthedoor.“Let’sdothis.”
Whenwegotinside,Michaelhandedthesecuritypersonourtickets,andthebigbalddudelookedatmewithboredeyes.“Purse?”
Ishookmyheadandpointedtothefrontofmydress.“Pockets.”
Hiseyebrowswentup.“Nice.Youkidshaveagoodnight.”
“Youtoo.”
WeheadedintoBallroomC,andthesecondwewalkedthroughthedoors,itwaslikeenteringadifferentworld.No,itwasn’tmagical.Itwasabrightlycolored,way-too-loudweddingreceptionworld.ThethemewasMardiGras,whichbasicallyjustmeantthateverythingwasajarringpurple,yellow,orgreencolor.
“Hey—there’sWesley.Overbythepapier-machébaby.”
IfollowedMichael’sgazeandyes,therewasanenormouspapier-machébabysittingatopanevenbiggerpapier-machécake.MyeyesscannedthecrowdforJoss,butIdidn’tseeheranywhere.MystomachflitteredalittlebitasMichaelledmetowardWes.
Stopit,Liz.
Itookadeepbreath,putmyhandsinmydelightfulpockets,andwalkedacrosstheroom,concentratingonnotstumblinginmyheels.“WeAreYoung”byfun.wasblaring,anditstillfeltlikeitalwayshad—asifthebandwastryingtoconvinceusofsomething.
“Thatisonehugebaby,”Isaid,smilingaswegotcloser.
“Right?Bizarre.”Michaelgrinnedupatit,andIwaslookingathimwhenavoiceyelled,
“Mrs.PotatoHead!”
IlookedpastthebabyandtherewasAdam.IreallydidlikeWes’sfriends.Isaid,“Hey.”
“Don’tcallherthatanymore;herfaceisnormalagain.”
IrolledmyeyesatNoah,whowasstandingbehindhim.“Gee,thanks.”
“Icould’vesaidalmostnormal;youshouldbegrateful.”
Thatmademesmile.“AndIam.Thanksforthekindness.”
“You’rewelcome.”
“ALouisvilletie?”Irolledmyeyesathisridiculoussportstiethatwascoveredinredcardinalsandbig,obnoxiousLsandsaid,“That’s,um…unconventional.”
“Butdope,yes?”Heranahandoveritandsaid,“Cardinal-chic.”
“Thattieisawful,”Laneysaid.She’djustexitedthedancefloorwithAshley.“It’slikeyoulostabetorsomething.”
“Lizlikesit.”
“No,shedoesn’t,”Adamsaid,lookingatmewithaquestiononhisface.“Doyou?”
Ijustsmiledandshruggedas“NewYear’sDay”byTaylorSwiftcameon.
“See,she’stoonicetotellyoushehatesit.”
“Orshe’stoonicetotellyouthatshelovesitandyouhavenofashionsense.”
“Bennett’soverthere,”Noahyelledoverthemusic,andpointedtothedancefloor.“WithAlex.”
Ilookedinthedirectionhisfingerwaspointing,andmystomachsankwhenIsawthem.Theyweredancing,Wes’sarmsaroundAlex’swaistasherswerelockedaroundhisneck.Shewaswearingareddressthatmadeherstandoutfromthecrowd,andIcouldn’tcomeupwithanythingbutcomplimentsforher.Quiteacatch.Hewasleaningdownsohecouldhearwhatevershewassaying,andtheywerebothsmiling.
Ifeltqueasy.
Hadhealwayslookedsoimpossiblyhandsome?Andhadhealwayssmiledwithsuchwarmth?Icouldfeelhisfondnessforherfromacrosstheroomjustbystaringathisreallynicemouth.
Themouththathadbeenonmymouth.
WhenIattackedhim.Ugh.
Itookabreath.
Ireallyhadfallenhardforhim,hadn’tI?Istaredatthem,thepicture-perfectcouple,asTaylorSwiftmademysoulache.
Pleasedon’teverbecomeastranger
WhoselaughIcouldrecognizeanywhere—
“Doyouwanttodance?”Michaellookeddownatme,andIrealizedhe’dprobablymisinterpretedmystareoflongingasawallflower’swishfulgaze.
“Um,notyet,”Isaid,pinningasmileonmylipseventhoughmycheekswerewarmandIfeltillallofasudden.“Unlessyouwantto?”
“Nah,I’mgood.”Hegaveashakeofhisheadthatwasallrelief.“Wantsomethingtodrink?”
WhatIwantedwasforhimtostoptryingtomakeusathing.Webothknewitwasn’ttherewithus,butMichaelseemedhellbentongoingthroughalltheromanticmotions,I’dstartedtheeveningguiltyofthesamethingbutquicklyrealizedIcouldn’tforceit.
Ishould’vesaidsomethingwhenwesawLaneyattherestaurant,becauseifI’dlearnedanythinglately,itwasthathonestywasthebestpolicy.
SoIsaid,“I’dloveaDietCoke,butdon’thitconcessionsuntilafteryoufindLaneyandtalktoher.”
Hiseyesnarrowed.“Comeagain?”
ItcamewithasmileandanextrahelpingofTexasontop,yetitstilldidnothingforme.Iwasfullyrecovered,filledwithMichaelantibodies,soIlookedathisfacethathadbeenapartofsomanychildhoodmemories,andIsaid,“Sheisn’thunguponherex;she’shunguponyou.Gofindher.”
Hestaredatmeforasecond,lookinglikehehadnoideawhattosay.
Ismiledathimandnodded,justtoshowIdidn’tcare.
“Yousure?”Helookedconcerned,gazingatmetheexactsamewayhehadsomanytimeswhenI’dbeencryingdramaticallyoverneighborhoodshenanigans,andithurtmyheartalittle.Iwaslettinghimgo,thedreamofhim,andLittleLizhadneverallowedherselftoimaginethatwouldeverhappen.
“Yes,I’msure.”Ilaughedandpointedtowardthemassofoverdressedstudents.“Nowgofindher!”
“C’mere.”Hepulledmeintoahug,anditwasweirdhowemotionalIfelt.Hedrawledintothetopofmyhead,“Thankyou,Lizzie.”
Irolledmyeyesandpushedathisshoulders.“Willyougo,please?”
Hegrinnedandsalutedme,whichshould’vebeendorkybutwasalittleadorable.“HereIgo!”
Iwatchedhimheadoffinsearchofhishappyending,andthenIpulledmyphoneoutofmypocket.Nomessages.Ishutitoffandputitback,lettingmyhandssettleintothepockets.IlookedatGiantBaby,atthelackofdetailonhispapier-machéface,andtriedcountinghowmanylittlesmoodgesofpaperit’dtakentocreatethatthing.BecauseIneededsomething—anything—tolookatotherthanWes.
Ilookedatthatbabyforasolidfivesecondsbeforemygazeshiftedbacktothedancefloor.
Andoh,dearGod—Weswaslookingatme.HewasdancingwithAlexbutoureyesmetoverherhead.Myheartbeathardinmychestandmybreathfrozeasthosedarkeyesdippeddownovermydress,thenranuptomyhair,beforesettlingbackontomyface.
Iraisedaneyebrowasiftosay,So?
I’dmeantittobeplayful,likeadilutedattemptatrecapturingourbanter,butallitdidwasmakehisfacetighten.HefrownedbeforeheandAlexmovedalittleandhewasnolongerfacingme.
“I’llberightback,”Imuttered,notthatanyonewaslistening,andIheadedoutthedoorinthebackoftheballroom.Ididn’treallyknowwhereIwasgoingintheenormousconventioncenter,butIneededtogetaway.Icouldn’tstandanotherminuteofprom,andIdefinitelycouldn’tstandWeslookingatmelikehehatedme.
Iwanderedallthewaydowntotheendofthelonghallway,andthenIsawastairwell,whichwastheperfectplacetohideforawhile.Iglancedovermyshouldertomakesurenoonewaswatchingme,andthenIpulledopenoneoftheheavymetaldoorsandduckedinside.
“OhmyGod!”
“Oh!”IputmyhandonmychestandlookedatJocelyn,whowassittingbyherselfonthestepswithherorangestilettosonthefloorinfrontofher.Itwasalmostlikeshehadtobeahallucination,becausewhatweretheoddsthatsheandIwouldbehidingoutinthesamestairwell?“Geez.Sorry.Youscaredthecrapoutofme.”
“Same.”Shetiltedherheadandlookedannoyedtoseeme.“DidCharliesendyoutofindme?”
“No.”I’dheardthatwhenKatehadgottenanactualdate-date,CassidyandJosshaddecidedtofollowsuitsoitwouldn’tbejustthetwoofthem,butIstillcouldn’tbelieveJosshadagreedtogowithCharlieHawk.“Ihaven’tseenhim.”
IhatedthatIhadnoideawhattosaytomybestfriend.ImissedherandwishedsobadlythatIcouldgobackintimeandnothidethingsfromher.“I’mjusthiding.”
“Troubleinparadise?”Shelookedupatmelikeshedidn’tlikeme.Atall
“Nah—I’mjustbored.”IknewIprobablyshouldn’tadmitmyfoolishnesstosomeonewhoalreadythoughtIwasafool,butIcouldn’tstopmyself.“Asitturnsout,Idon’treallylikeMichaelthatway.AndheandLaneyaresuperintoeachotherbutjustreallyterriblecommunicators.”
Shestudiedhernailsasshesaid,“Isthatright.”
“Yes.”Iclearedmythroatandleanedmybacksideagainstthedoor.“ItalsoturnsoutthatIactuallydolikeWes,butheactuallydoeslikeAlexnow.So.”
“Um—”
“And,”Isaid,swallowing.“AnditturnsoutthatI’mso,sosorry.Imissyou.”
Josscoughedoutalittlelaughnoisebutdidn’tsmile.“Doyouthinkthefactthateverythingblewupinyourfaceisgoingtomakemeforgiveyou?”
“Ofcoursenot.”Idugmyhandsdeeperintomydresspockets,myfacegettinginstantsweatbeadsasIrealizedmysafespotinthestairwellwasabouttobecomeallaboutconfrontation.“ButatleastyoucantakecomfortinthefactthatI’msuffering.”
“Idon’twantyoutosuffer.”
“Listen.”Isighed.Ijustmissedhersomuch.“Iknowyoudon’twanttohearthis,butIamsosorryforlyingtoyou.Iknewyou’dcallmeoutfortryingtolandMichael,andinsteadofthinkingthatthrough,IjustwentaheadandkeptitfromyousoIwouldn’thavetodeal.”
Shewrappedherarmsaroundherknees.“Suchawimpmove.”
“Right?AndIshouldn’thaveletyouthinkthatIlikedWes,either.Imean,itendedupbeingaself-fulfillingprophecy,butitwasprettydespicable.”
“Yeah,itwas.”
“Yeah.”Iinhaledandsaid,“I’mgonnagobacknowsoyou—”
“Sit.”Shepointedherheadtowardthestepbesideherandsaid,“Imissyou,too.I’mabouttoforgiveyouoverthewholepromdebacle.But.”
Isatandwaited.
“Ifeellikesomethingiswrongwithuslately.LikeI’mconstantlychasingyou.”Joss’sprettyfacewassad,andIhatedthatitwasmyfault.
Shesaid,“It’soursenioryear.Ikindofpicturedusdoing,like,everythingtogetherandmakingthemostofeverysecondwehavebecausewe’regoingtobelivingindifferentplacesinafewmonths.”
Shereachedupandtookthepinsoutofherupdo.“Homecoming,prom,seniorpictures,seniorpranks—Ithoughtwe’dmakeallofthosethingstotallyepic.Butyoujustkeepdisappearingonmeforthebigthings.”
“Iknow.”Ihadneverthoughtofitfromherperspective.“I’msorry.”
“You’rethereforeverythingelse,everylittlethingthatdoesn’tmatter.But,like—areyouevengoingtoshowforgraduation?AmIgoingtohavetowalkalone?Idon’tknowwhatyourdealis.”
“It’scomplicated.”Itseemedlikethosetwowordsexplainedeverythingaboutme.Iswallowedandtriedtomakeherunderstand.“Iknowweweren’tfriendswhenmymomdied,butitsucked.Like,ofcourselosingaparentsucks,butitsuck-sucked.Everythingfeltlonelyandsad—everysinglething.Youcould’vegivenmeice-creamconesatDisneyWorldwithTomHanksdolingoutponyrides,andIstillwould’vecriedeverynightbecauseshewasn’tthere.”
Islidoutofmyshoes,leanedmyheadagainstthecementblockwall,andclosedmyeyes.“Buteventuallyitstartedgettingbetter.Notquitesoterrible.IlearnedthatifIcouldmakeitthroughthedaywithoutcrying,Icouldgohomeandwatchhermovies,whichalwaysmadeherfeelclose.”
“I’msorry,Liz.”Sheleanedherheadonmyshoulderandwrappedherarmsaroundmyrightbicep.
“Itallbecamenormalandfine,butlatelyit’sjust…different.”
“Differenthow?”
IopenedmyeyesandfocusedontheOPENDOORSLOWLYstickeronthestairwellexit.“I’masenior.Everythingistaggedwith‘lasttime’andsecretlyallwrappedupinfamily.Lasthomecomingdance—‘Parents,gatherroundforpicturesofyourbabies.’Collegevisits—‘OhmyGod,mymomwassoembarrassingwhenwetouredthedorms.’It’smystuff,buteverysinglemilestonefeelsemptywithouther,soIdon’tevenfeellikedoingit.”
Sheliftedherheadandgavemealook.“Dressshopping?”
Itookashakybreath.“Bingo.”
“Whydidn’tyoujusttellme?”Shelookedgenuinelyhurt.“IknowIcanbequicktojudge,butI’myourbestfriend.Youcantellmeanything.”
“I’msosorry.”
“Ineedtoyoulistentome.Youknowthat,right?Thatyoucanalwaystalktome?”
Inoddedandleanedintoher,sighingandtellinghereverything.HowIfeltwhenitseemedlikeshewasdismissingmymom’sabsence,whatWeshadsaidaboutmymomandhowIlivedmylifelikeIwasinoneofherscreenplays.
Isaid,“Ihatetosayit,butIthinkhemightberight.”
“Think?”Sheshookherheadandsaid,“Bennetthasyoupegged.”
“Right?”IwipedmycheeksandwonderedwhenI’dbecomesuchacrier.“I’msosorryI’vebeensuchatool.”
“Well,I’msorryI’vebeenatooltoo,andlet’smoveon.We’llbothdobetter.”Sheleanedbackonthestepandsaid,“Sowhat’shappeningintheballroom?”
Iwantedtohugherandgush,butIwasalsogoodwithmovingon.“IheardJessicaRobertsdescribingyourshoesearlier.”
“Notshocked—they’reincrediblysexy.”
ImoveddownanotherstepandturnedsidewayssoIcouldleanagainstthewall.“Soareyouhavinganyfun?”
Shepursedherlips.“I’msittinginadesertedstairwell—bychoice.Dothemath.”
“I’msorryIditchedyou.”
“Noworries—this’llmakeforabettermemory.Imean,myimaginationcouldneverhavereachedfarenoughtoconsiderasituationwhereI’dbegoingtoChili’sinapromdresswithaguywearingadenimtuxedo.”
Ilaughed.Charliewaslikedbyeveryonebecausehewasgreatatfootball,buthewasoutthere.Duringsophomoreyear,heworesuitstoschooleverydaybecausehethoughthelookedsophisticated.“HetookyoutoChili’s?”
“Inamotherlovingjeantux,Liz—you’remissingthemostimportantpart.”
“Washebeingironic?”
“Girl,heboughtitonAmazonbecausethemodelwearingitlookedcool.”Shegrinnedandshookherhead.“Hedoesn’tknowtheword‘ironic.’?”
Ibitdownonmyliptokeepfromcackling.“Atleasthe’snice.”
Jossgavemeside-eyeandsaid,“Hetriedtotouchmybutt—withbothhands—thefirsttimewedanced.”
“Isheokay?Ordidyoustuffhisbodyinajanitor’scloset?”
“Puh-leeze;likeI’mgoingtodotimeforaguyinaLevi’ssuit.”Shegavealittleshrugandsaid,“Iamleavinghisasshere,though.Idrovesincehedoesn’thavealicense,andmygoalistostaymissinguntilit’stoolateforhimtofindanotherride.Makethefoolcallhismomforaride.”
Webothlostitthen.Wewerecacklingsohardthatwewerebothcryingwhenthedoorstothestairwellflewopen.WegaspedinunisonasWes’sfriendNoahsteppedintoourspace.
Helookedasconfusedbyourpresenceaswewereabouthis.Isaid,“Noah?”atthesametimehesaid,“Dammit,youguysscaredme.”
Jocelynleanedbackonherelbows,andIgesturedtothestepbelowusandsaid,“Whatareyoudoingallthewaydownhere?Ithoughtthecoolkidswerestilldownintheballroom.”
Hesatdownandsaid,“Icouldn’ttakeitanymore.Promispainful.Youcaneitherstandaroundwithyourfriendsandtalkwhilewearinguncomfortabletuxedos,oryoucandancetoshittymusicwhileyourfriendstalkaboutyouandthinkthey’refunny.Andsomuchplanningandmoneygoesintothisonenight,butthereisnowaythejoyderivedequalstheeffort.Absolutelynoway.”
WasitweirdthatIstillthoughtitwaspossiblethatthejoycouldequaltheeffort?Eventhoughithadn’tworkedoutforme,myheartstillthoughtprommagicwasasparklingthing.Maybethatwasjustmyobnoxiousoptimismmessingwithmyhead.
“Sowhydidyoucome?”Jocelynhadasmirkonherface,butlookedinterestedinhowhe’danswer.“Itotallyagree,bytheway,butwhydidyoucomeifyoufeelthatway?”
“Samereasonasyou.”
“Andthatis…?”
Heraisedaneyebrow.“Youdon’tknowwhyyou’rehere?”
Sherolledhereyes.“IknowwhyI’mhere,butyoudon’t,sothere’snowayyoucouldknowthatweshareareason.”
Icrossedmyarmsandwatchedthem.ThelittleIknewofNoahwasthathewasthekingofarguing;heseemedtoenjoythedebateprocess.Joss,ontheotherhand,hadnopatienceforpeoplewhoarguedwithher.
Mostdidn’tbecausetheyknewbetter.
Hesaid,“Yousure?”
Shegavehimalook.
Hesaidaroundasmart-assgrin,“Ithoughtwebothcametoseewhataclowninadenimtuxedoactuallylookslike.”
Thatmadeherchuckle.“YoucamehereforCharlietoo?”
“Oh,yeah.”Hisfacewentintohisnaturalsarcasticstateashesmirkedandsaid,“Thatbluesuitreallymakeshiseyespop.”
“Whatcouldhehavebeenthinking?”JocelynstartedlaughingagainandNoah’ssmirkturnedintoafull-fledgedsmile.IfeltlikeIshouldslipaway,butIknewthatwouldruinthemoment.Also,Iwasn’treadytoputspacebetweenmeandJoss.
Hekickedhislegsoutandleanedbackonhiselbowstoo,themaleversionofJocelyn’slean.“Thatguywasthinkingwithhisego.Heknewhelookedgoodindenim,somuchsothathewantedtobeswathedfromheadtotoeinthatscratchy,rigid,unstretchingfabricthattotallyshowsoffhisamazingass.”
“OhmyGod,”Jocelynsaid.“Youhavetoshutup.Youhaveto.”
Wespentthenexthourinthestairwell,justtalking.Itwouldhavebeenfunifmybrainhadn’tbeensostuckonremindingmeaboutWesandAlex.I’dlethimgobeforeI’deverfullyrealizedthatIevenwantedhim,andnowAlexwasmakinghimforgethe’deverkissedme.
Afterlaugh-cryingatJocelyn’simpressionofthePEteacher,wedecidedweweredonewithprom.Weeachtextedourrespectivedateswithexcuses,andMichaelseemedfinewithit.Heevensentathankyou,btwmessage,whichgavemehopethatheandLaneywouldbeofficialbeforemorning.
IwascountingtheminutesuntilIcouldbewarminmybed,dwellingonmymistakeswhileFitzattackedmyfeetundertheblanket.JocelynandNoah,however,decidedaswegotclosertomyhousethattheywantedtogotopost-promattheschoolgym.They’dbothbeenplanningtoblowitoff,butnowthatNoahwasconvincedhecouldmakemorefreethrowsthanJocelyn,myuber-competitivebestfriendjusthadtogo.
Andshewouldtotallybeathim.
“Yousureyoudon’twanttojoin?”Jocelynpulledintomydrivewayandputhercarinpark.“Ipromisewe’llmakeitfun.”
“No,thanks.”Igotoutandslammedthedoor,thencamearoundtoherwindowandgaveherahalfhug.“Butcallmewhenyougethome.Wheneverthatis.”
“Bennettwon’tbethere.”Noahgavemeapityinglookandsaid,“Hetoldmethismorningthatpost-promisawasteoftimeandheneedsagoodweekendofsleepbeforethebiggameMonday,sohe’scominghomeatmidnightlikeagrandma.”
Iappreciatedhisattempttocheermeup.Itwaskindofsweet.Isaid,“Ihaveadatewithamovieandsomeicecream.Nothingtopsthat,butthanks.”
“Letmeguess.”Jossrolledhereyes.“BridgetJones?”
Ishrugged.“IthinkI’mfeelingalittlemoreJoeFoxandKathleenKellytonight,buteitheronewilldo.”
Theysaidgoodbyeandpulledaway,butinsteadofgoinginsideIsatdownontheporchswingandstaredoveratWes’shouse.Thelightwasoninthelivingroom,makingmethinkofourlate-nighttelephonecallsandwatchingforhimoutthewindow.
Imissedhimsomuch.
I’dspentmostofmylifewishinghewasn’talwaysthere,aggravatingmewithhisWes-ness,yetnow,everythingfeltemptywhenhewasabsent.Ireachedintomypocketandpulledoutmyphone.IwentintoourmessagesandtypedHey,you,butquicklydeleteditbecause—ofcourse—Weswasn’thomeyet.Normalpeoplestayeduntiltheendofprom.Normalpeopleweren’thomeat—Icheckedtheclockonmyphone—ninethirty.
WesBennettwasprobablybeingcrownedpromkingatthatverysecond.Hewasprobablyabouttodancewithhisbeautifuldate,andoncehefinishedstaringintohereyes,he’dforgetaboutbaseballresponsibilitiesandsweepherawayforafantasticalnightoffirelightandkissesthatcurledhertoes.
EvenwhenIclosedmyeyestight,Icouldstillpicturethemkissing.
“Screwthis.”Iopenedmyeyes,stood,andfishedmykeyoutofmypocket.
Itwastimetogoinsideandgougemyeyesout.CHAPTERSIXTEEN
“Whenyourealizeyouwanttospendtherestofyourlifewithsomebody,youwanttherestofyourlifetostartassoonaspossible.”
—WhenHarryMetSally
Ilayonthecouchlikealump,stillwearingmypromdressbutwrappedinablanket.I’djustdroppedontothesofawhenIcameintothehouseandwasmindlesslywatchingYou’veGotMailinthedarkwhiletryingnottothinkaboutwhatwasgoingonwithWesandAlex.
KathleenKellywastalkingaboutJoniMitchell’s“River,”andIwasfeelingeverymelancholynoteofthatmasterpiece.
I’mselfishandI’msad
NowI’vegoneandlostthebestbaby—
“Liz?”Helenastoppedshortofwalkingintothelivingroomfromthekitchenwhenshesawme,andputherhandonherchest.“Geez,youscaredthecrapoutofme.”
“Sorry.”
Shetuckedherhairbehindherears,atubeofPringlesunderherarm.“Noworries.Whyareyousittinginthedark?”
Ishrugged.“Toolazytoturnonthelight.”
“Isee.”Sheclearedherthroatandputherhandsinthepocketofherhoodie,whereIcouldseetwocansofsoda.“Andprom?”
Iwavedahand.“Itwasfine.”
Shelookedlikeshewantedtoaskaboutit,butthenshesaid,“Well,okay,then.I’llleaveyoutoyourmovie.G’night.”
Iusuallyfeltdefensivewhensheaskedaboutthingsinmylife,butitfeltemptynothavingherask.IwasembarrassedbythewayI’dactedatthecemetery,andifIwashonestwithmyself,I’dmissedhertoday.
Ididn’tdeserveit,butIwantedhertostayupwithme.Iwasalittlescaredtoask,afraidofarejectionthatIwholeheartedlydeserved,butwhenshewasalmosttothestairs,Iblurtedout,“Doyouwanttowatchitwithme?”
Iheardherstepsstopbeforeshecamebackintotheroom.“OhmyGod,yes.Ilovethismovie.PraiseJesusforthesaviorsthatareMegRyanandTomHanks.”
“Ithoughtyouhatedrom-coms.”
“Ihatecheesy,unrealisticromanticmovies.Butbouquetsofnewlysharpenedpencils?”Sheploppeddownbesidemeandsatcrisscrossapplesauce,pullingthetopoffthePringles.“Bestillmyheart.”
Wewatchedforafewmoreminutesbeforeshesaid,“Soprom.”
“Ah,prom.”Ikickedmyfeetoutontothecoffeetableandsnaggedachip.“Promwaslikehavingyourbiggestmistakedressedupinprettyclothesandparadedinfrontofyouwithsomeoneelse.”
“English,please.Idon’tgethowthatgibberishpertainstotheprettyMr.Michael.”
Isighed.“Itdoesn’t.It’s…Idon’tknow,justforgetit.Idon’twanttothinkaboutitanymore.”
“Done.”Shebitintoachipandsaid,gesturingattheTV,“Thisisthebestlovetriangle.”
“Um—it’smoreofalovesquare,ifit’saloveshapeatall.”IchompedonaPringleandsaid,“They’rejustafoursomewhofallapartontheirown.Noneofthemhavetochoosebetweentheothers.”
“I’mnottalkingaboutthetwocouples.”Helenapulledthesodasoutofherpocket,handedmeone,andopenedhers.Sheslurpedoffthecan’sedgeandsaid,“I’mtalkingaboutthetrianglebetweenKathleen,herideaofwhoNY152isonline,andJoeFox.”
“Wait—what?”
“Thinkaboutit.Shefindshisonlinepersonacharming.Shelikesthatheknowsabout‘goingtothemattresses.’Sheenvieshisabilitytoverballyslay.”Sheleanedforwardandsethercanonthetable.“Theideaofthismanisbeautiful,butinpracticeshethinksJoeFox’sverbalslayingismean,andwhenhegoestothemattressesandputsheroutofbusiness,shehateshim.”
Iblinkedandopenedmypop.“Holycrap—you’reright.”
“Iknow.”Shegrinnedanddidalittlehalf-bowthing.“Sometimeswegetsotiedupinourideaofwhatwethinkwewantthatwemissoutontheamazingnessofwhatwecouldactuallyhave.”
Shewastalkingaboutthemovie,butIfeltseen.Weshadbeenrightaboutonethingwhenhe’dtalkedaboutmymomissues.Itwasn’tintentional,butIhadbeenlivingmylifelikeIwasoneofhercharacters,likeIwastryingtoactoutthepartsIthoughtshewould’vewrittenforme.
I’dpushedhimawayandgoneforthe“goodguy,”wheninrealitythereweren’tonlysolid,dependablepeopleandplayerswithquestionableintentionsintheworld.TherewereWesesoutthere,guyswhobrokethemoldandblewbothofthosestereotypesoutofthewater.
HewassomuchmorethanaMarkDarcyoraDanielCleaver.
AndthentherewereHelenas—smart,irreverentwomenwhohadnoideahowtoplaythepianoortendtoarosegarden,buttheywerealwaysthere,justwaitingforyoutorealizeyouneededthem.
“Imean,”Helenasaid,“shenearlylet152pockmarksgo—canyouevenimagine?”
“Helena.”Iblinkedfastbutitwasimpossibletoclearmyeyes.MyvoicesoundedconstrictedwhenIsaid,“I’msosorryforwhatIsaidtoyoubefore.Foreverything.Idon’twanttomissoutonwhatwecouldhave.Ididn’tmeanitwhenItoldyoutobuttout.”
“Oh.”Hereyeswidenedalittlebitandshetiltedherhead.“It’stotallyokay.”
“It’snot.”
Shegavemeahugandsniffled.“JustknowthatIdon’twanttotakeyourmom’splace.Ionlywanttobehereforyou.”
IclosedmyeyesandfeltsomethingasIletherhugsurroundme.
Ifeltloved.
AndIknewatthatmomentthatmymotherwouldwantthis.Badly.Shewouldwant—aboveallelse—formetobeloved.Isaid,“Iwantthattoo,Helena.”
Wewerebothsniffling,whichmadeuslaugh.Themomentmeltedandwereturnedtoourspots,sidebysideonthecouch.IdecidedasshewolfeddownchipsandgotcrumbsalloverherstainedhoodiethatIwasgladshewassodifferentfrommymom.Itwasnicethatthelinesbetweenthemcouldneverbeblurred.
Iclearedmythroat.“Doyouthinkitwouldbeokayformetocallyoumystepmomnow?”
“Aslongasyoudon’tadd‘evil’asaprefix.”
“WhyelsewouldIwanttosayit,though?Youhavetoadmitthatit’sapowerfultitle.”
“Isupposeitis.AndIdolovepower.”
“See?Iknewit.”Iglancedtowardtheslidingglassdoorbythekitchen,andmymindwenttotheSecretArea.IturnedtowardHelenaonthecouchandsaid,“Soprom.Basically,thebottomlineisthatIwentwiththewrongguy.”
“Areyoucomingwithmypop?”IheardmydadrundownthestairsbeforehesteppedintotheroomwearingPeanutspajamapantsandaT-shirt,smiling.Thenhelookedconcernedandsaid,“Hey,hon,Ididn’tknowyouwerehomealready.”
“Yeah—Ijustgotback.”
Helenapointedatmydadandgavemealookbeforesayingtohim,“Shh—shewasabouttotellmeaboutprom.”
“PretendI’mnothere.”MydadploppeddowninthesmallspacebetweenHelenaandthesofa’sarmrest,andhetookasipofhersoda.
IrolledmyeyesandtoldthemaboutLaneyandtherealizationthatIhadnointerestintheguythatI’dthoughtfatehadsentme.ThenIhadtotellthemwhatajerkI’dbeentoWesafterourkiss(exceptIsaid“date”somydaddidn’tfreak),justsotheyunderstoodhowbadlyI’dscrewedeverythingup.IpicturedWes’sfaceatprom,glaringatme,andIsaid,“Sonowit’stoolate.He’swithagirlwhoadoreshimanddoesn’ttreathimlikecrap.Whywouldheeverwanttolookbackfromthat?”
TheylistenedtoallofitbeforemydadsmiledatmelikeIwasunbelievablydense.“Becauseyou’reyou,Liz.”
“Idon’tknowwhat—”
“Oh,youdon’tknow,doyou?”Helenadustedoffthefrontofhershirtandsaid,“Thatboyhasbeenintoyousinceyouwerelittlekids.”
“No,hehasn’t.”Herwordsmadeahopefulbuzzingstartinmyearsandfingertips,eventhoughIknewshewaswrong.“He’sbeenintomessingwithmesincewewerelittlekids.”
“Oh,youaresowrong.Tellher,hon.”Helenanudgedmydadwithherelbow.“Tellheraboutthepiano.”
MydadputhisarmaroundHelenaandproppedhisfeetonthecoffeetable.“Didyoueverknow,Liz,thatWesusedtositonthebackporchandlistentoyoupracticethepiano?Wepretendednottoseehim,buthewasalwaysthere.Andwe’retalkingwaybackwhenhewasalittlepainintheassandyouwereawfulatpiano.”
“Noway.”Istruggledtorememberhowoldwe’dbeenwhenthepianohadsatinthebackroom.“Hedid?”
“Hedid.Anddoyoureallythinkhecaredaboutthatparkingspotyouguyshavefoughtoverforthepastyear?”
“Hedefinitelycared.Hestilldoes.Thatwaswhatmadehimagreetohelpme.”
IthoughtabouttherainydayinhislivingroomwhenI’dfirstsuggestedtheplan.He’dseemedlikeastrangerthatday,whenI’dhadtobeghimtoletmein.Cookiesandmilk,Wes’scartwheels—itseemedlikealifetimeago.
“Liz.”Helena’ssmilewasobscenelylarge.“Hismomletshimparkbehindhercar.Healwayspulledinhisdriveway,butthenoutofnowhere,rightaboutthetimeyougotyourcar,hestartedparkinginthestreet.”
Mymouthfellopen.“Whatareyousaying?”
Shesmackedmyarmandsaid,“AndI’mnotsayinganythingotherthanIthinkhewasafterthatspotbecausehewantedareasontotalktoyou.Dowiththatwhatyouwill.”
Wasitpossible?Inaway,itwasimpossibletobelievebecausehewasoutofmyleague.Hewaspopularandathleticandridiculouslyhot.IwassupposedtobelievethathehadbeenintomebeforeI’devenrealizedwhohetrulywas?Thathe’dbeenintomefor,like,areallylongtime?Idugmyfingersintomyhairandpulledalittle.“Ihavenoideawhattodo.”
Mydadwentupstairsafterthat,butHelenaandIwatchedtherestofthemoviebeforegoingtobed.I’djustclosedmydoorwhenHelenaknockedonit.“Liz?”
Ipulleditopen.“Yeah?”
Shewassmirkingatmeinthedarkhallway.“Bebraveenoughtogobig,okay?”
“Whatdoesthatmean?”
Sheshrugged.“Idon’tknow.Just…ifyou’regonnadoit,don’tskimp,Iguess.”
Bebraveenoughtogobig.
IkeptreplayingherwordsasIlayinbed.Itriedsleeping,butbetweenlisteningforWes’scarandimaginingallthethingsheandAlexmightbedoing,allIdidwaslietherebeingunhappy.
Untilithitme.
Bebraveenoughtogobig.CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
“Here’sthedeal.Iloveyou.IknowIdo.BecauseI’veneverbeensoscaredinmyentirelife.AndIoncesharedanelevatorwithSaddamHussein.JustmeandSaddam.Andthisiswayscarier.Iloveyou.”
—LongShot
“Iwaswrongabouteverything.IamsoincrediblygladMichaelcameback,butonlybecauseitallowedmetogettoknowtherealyou.Allthistimeyouwererighthere—nextdoor—andIhadnoideahowamazingyouare,”Iwhisperedtomyself.Iwasshaking,shiveringwithcoldwhenIheardWes’scarpullintothedriveway.
“Showtime.”Ishookoutmycoldfingersandquitpracticingmyspeech.Iinhaledslowly,throughmynose,asIheardhimcuthisengine,andasecondlaterIheardhiscardoorslamshut.
Ituckedmyhairbehindmyearsandgotintoasupercute-yet-really-casualposeononeofthechairsandwaitedforhimtofindmynote.
AfterHelena’sepicmoviequoteaboutgoingbig,Idecidedshewasrightandgotverybusy.First,IflippedonmymusiccomputerandlookedthroughthedeskdrawersuntilIfoundablankCD.TherewassomethingaboutholdingthetangibleproductofcarefulmusiccurationthatIstillloved,technologybedamned.
ItooktheWesandLizplaylistthatI’dmadeafterthekissandIburnedittotheCD.Ithadallthesongswe’deverdiscussedonit,andallthemusicwe’dexperiencedtogether.Iquicklymadealbumcoverart—ourinitialsinsideaheartmadeofketchup—andprintedit,thencarefullycutitsoitfitinthecasejustright.
Assoonasitwasdone,IchangedintojeansandWes’shugehoodie,whichhadsomehowendedupinmyvomityclothesbag(andthatI’dbeensleepingineverynight).Myhairandmakeupwerestillfairlyintact,soIpulledonmyfreshly-bleached-and-perfectly-white-againChucks,scribbledoutthewordsMEETMEINTHESECRETAREAwithaSharpieonapieceofprinterpaper,andfilledabootboxwiththenecessarysupplies.
I’dsprintedovertohisporchtoleavethenotebeforehurryingtotheSecretArea,whereI’dsetuptheportableCDplayer,startedafire,organizedthes’moresstuff,andgotteneverythinginplace.
ThenI’dsnuggledintoablanketandwaited.
Andwaitedandwaitedandwaited.
Anddozedoffacoupletimes.
Butnowhewasfinallyhome.Ohdear.OhGod,Iwassonervous.Andthen—wait,what?—Iheardtheslammingofasecondcardoor.
Isuckedinmylips.Crap,crap,crap.Maybehejustgrabbedsomethingfromhiscar.Maybetherewasn’tsomeonewithhim.
“Wes!”
Iheardthegigglingyell,anditmightaswellhavebeenthelaughofanevilclownforwhatitdidtomypulse.Itriedpeekingaroundthebushes,butIcouldn’tseeanything.Thevoicesweregettingcloser,soIsteppedupontomychairtoseeifIcouldseebetterfromahighervantagepoint.
Holyballs.IcouldseebythelightofthefullmoonthatWesandAlexwerewalkingthroughhisbackyardtowardwhereIwasstationedwithmypridefullyexposedandasackfullofembarrassinggoodies.
“Shit!”Allevidencehadtobeerased.Ikickedtheboxofs’moressupplies,intendingtoknockthemintoabushandoutofsight.Panicexplodedinsidemeastheboxwentflyingandsentthegrahamcrackersandmarshmallowsspillingoutintothewater,sotheywerefloatingontopofthefountain.
Crap-crap-crap-crap.
IgrabbedtheCDplayeranddroppeddowntomyknees,desperatetobehiddenbythedarkness.Buttheancientmachineslippedoutofmyhandsandlandedontheground,causingeightD-sizebatteriestobeejected.
Screwit.Iditchedthemessandscootedovertothebigbush,crawlingonmyhandsandkneestowardtheotherside.IfIcrawledallthewayaroundtotheotherendoftheSecretArea,maybeIcouldcutthrough—
“Liz?”
Iclosedmyeyesforasecondbeforeslowlystraighteningandclimbingtomyfeet.IpastedasmileontomyfaceasWesandAlexlookedatme.“Hey,guys.What’sup?Funprom,right?”
“Right?OhmyGod.”Alex,blessher,actedlikeitwasn’toutoftheordinaryformetobecrawlingaroundinthedarknessbehindWes’shouse.“IthoughtIwasgoingtohaveaheartattackwhenAshwascrowned.”
“Iknow,”Ibreathed,smilinglikeIknewwhatshewastalkingaboutwhiletakinginthestoic,seriousexpressiononWes’sface.“Totalheartattackmoment.Like,whaaat?Ashwascrowned?”
“Whatareyoudoingouthere?”Wesasked,lookingatmewithanunreadableexpressionthatmadethetipsofmyearsburnhot.HewasprobablypissedthatIwasinthewayofapotentialseduction.
Hadhebroughtherthereforthat?Weretheywaitingformetoleavesotheycouldgettoit?Forsomereason,thethoughtofthemtogetherwasahundredtimesworsewhenitinvolvedtheSecretArea.
“I,um,Ifollowedmycatouthereearlierand…”Ipointedtowardmyhouseaswordsfailedtomakesensetome.“Idroppedsomethingandthoughtitmight’verolledunderthisbush.”
AndIpointedtoWes’sforestlikeadistraughttoddler.
“Yourcatdoesn’tgooutside.”
Imadeafaceandsaid,“Yes,hedoes.Actually,no,you’reright.Heranout.”
“Really?Andwhatdidyoudrop?”Hedidn’tlookamusedatall.
“Um,itwasmoney.Apenny.”Iclearedmythroatandsaid,“Idroppedapennyanditrolledaway.Soyeah.Iwasjustouthere,lookingformypenny.Itwaslucky.”
“Your—”
“Penny.Yep.Butitdoesn’tmatter.Idon’tneedit.”Iclearedmythroatagain,butthetightnessjustwouldn’tgoaway.“Thepenny,y’know?Imean,whoneedsapenny,amIright?Mystepmomthrowsthemaway,forGod’ssake.”
Theybothjuststaredatme,andthehardlinesofWes’sfacemademehomesickforourbefore,forhislaughingeyesbeforeI’druinedeverything.“It’sweirdhowsometimestherecanbeapennythat’s,like,alwaysthere,andyouthinkyoudon’tneeditanddon’tevenlikeit,right?”
Alextiltedherheadandscrunchedhereyebrowstogether,butnotasinglethingonWes’sfacechangedasIrambled.
“Thenyouwakeuponedayandyoureyesareopenedtojusthowamazingpenniesare.Howhadyounotnoticedbefore,right?Imean,they’relikethebestcoinsever.Asin,betterthanalltheothercoinscombined.Butyouweren’tcarefulandyoulostyourpennyandyoujustwishyoucouldmakeyourpennyunderstandhowmuchyouregretnotcherishingit,butit’stoolatebecauseyoulostit.Y’know?”
“Liz,doyouneedtoborrowsomemoney?”Alexlookedatme,andIwasalittlebitclosetocryingagain.
Ishookmyheadandsaid,“Um,no,thanks,I’vegottorun—eventhoughI’mpenniless,hahaha—soyouguyshavefun.”Itookastepbackwardanddidatinywavething.“Don’tdoanythingIwouldn’tdo.”
Stoptalking,youdipshit!
Isensed—withoutlooking—thattheywerestillstaringatmeasIclimbedoverWes’sfenceandranthroughmybackyard.CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
“But,youknow,thethingaboutromanceis,peopleonlygettogetherrightattheveryend.”
—LoveActually
“Thankyou.”ItookthebagfromtheMcDonald’semployee,tosseditontothepassengerseat,anddroveaway.Itwasmidnight,andI’dspentthepasthourjustdrivingaround,crankingAdeleandsob-singing,andtryingtostaygonelongenoughforAlextohaveleftandforWestohavegoneinside.Iwouldratherhavedonealmostanythingintheworldthanseeeitheroneofthem,soI’dtextedHelenaandjustcruisedthecity.
AndmydadwasthecoolestpersonontheplanetfornottextingmeasinglewordofwarningwhenheknewIwasdrivingaroundaimlesslyaftermidnight.Ithadtobekillinghim.
I’dconsideredgettingicecreamonmywayhome,butIhadn’tbeenuptoactuallygettingoutofmycar,soI’dsettledonthegoldenarches.Ijustwantedtogohomeandsad-eat,watchamovie,andtrytoforgethowbadlyI’dhumiliatedmyself.
Apenny.Seriously?They’dprobablylaughedaboutmeuntiltheyfellintoeachother’sarmsandhadperfectsex.
“Dammit.”IgrabbedafistfuloffriesandjammedthemintomymouthbeforepullingintoTheSpot.Itwasn’tmineanymore—itwasWes’sforever—butatthemomentIdidn’tcare.Hiscarwasinhisdriveway,soscrewhim.
Insteadofgettingoutafterparallelparking,though,Ijustsatthere,wolfingdownmyfoodandlisteningtotheradio.Gettingoutofthecarandwalkingacrossthestreetseemedlikeworkatthattiredmoment,andIwasalsoterrifiedofrunningintothehappycouple.Itwouldbejustmylucktowalkbyattheexactmomenttheydecidedtogethotandheavyinhisdriveway,orsomethingequallynightmarish.
Ifinishedmyfoodandwasdrinkingmychocolateshakewiththeseathalf-reclinedwhentherewasaknockonmywindow.
“Shit!”Ijumped,andmystrawsplatteredmilkshakeontoWes’shoodie.Ilookedthroughthefogged-upwindowandcouldseeatallbodyinaletterjacket.
Someonepleasekillme.
Iwipedmymouthwithmyfingers,putmyseatbackup,androlleddownthewindow.Gavehimacoolsmile.“Yes?”
Wesglareddownatme.“Whatareyoudoing?”
“Um…parking.”
“Iwatchedyouparktenminutesago.Tryagain.”
“Wow.Creepmuch?”
“Iwantedtotalktoyou,soyeah,Iwaswaiting.ButnowIthinkmaybeyou’renevergoingtogetoutofthatcar.”
Irolledmyeyesandsetdownmyshake.ApparentlyIwasgoingtohavetofacehimandmyutterhumiliationtwiceinonenight.Howawesome.Igotoutofthecarandshutthedoor.Crossedmyarmsandlookedupathisface.“Whatdoyouneed?”
“Well,forstarters,Ineedyoutoexplainwhathappenedearlier.”
MyhearthurtasIlookedathim.Hishairwastousled,likehe’ddraggedhishandthroughitahundredtimes,andhewaswearinghisuntuckeddressshirtandtuxedopantsunderhisjacket.Hewasanabsolutemess,andmyfingersitchedtotouchhim.
Inarrowedmyeyesandactedconfused.“AreyoutalkingaboutwhenIlostmy—”
“Nope.”Hegavemealookofwarningandsaid,“Donotsay‘penny.’?”
“Sorry.”Ilookeddownatmyshoesandmuttered,“Luckycoin.”
“Really?You’restickingtothat?”
IjustshruggedandstaredatmyChucks,cluelessaboutwhattosay.EverythingI’dplannedtotellhimduringmywholebebravephasefelttoohardtosayafterseeinghimwithAlex.Especiallywhenhe’dlookedsounhappytoseemeintheSecretArea.
Istillcouldn’tbelievehe’dtakenherbackthere.
Hisnostrilsflaredandhesaid,“Oh,well,thatexplainseverything.”
“Whydoyouseemmadatme?”Iraisedmyeyestohisfaceandwaitedforananswer.Iwastheonewhowishedtospontaneouslycombust.Whywashebeingsalty?
Hisjawflexedbeforehesaid,“BecauseIhategames.”
“Whatgames?”
“Whatgames?”Hiseyeswerehot,andyeah—hewasmad.“YouwonyourpreciousMichael,butassoonasIlookedtwiceatAlex,you’reburningmethisunbelievableCDandramblingaboutluckypenniesinawaythatmakesmethinkI’mthepennyinthatparticularscenario.Whilewearingmybaseballhoodie.Whatareyoudoingtome?”
“YousawtheCD?”Ibittheinsideofmycheekandwonderedhowmuchhumiliationapersoncouldtakebeforeitliterallykilledthem.BecauseasIpicturedtheketchupinitialsI’dputontheCDcover,IfeltlikeIwasclosetocombustingandgentlyfloatingtothegroundasash.
Hestuckhishandsintohiscoatpockets.“I’mnotoblivious,Liz.Ialsosawthenote,thesoggys’moressupplies,andthebustedCDplayer.”
“Oh.”Itookashudderingbreathashisdarkeyesboreintome.ThenIblurted,“Sodoyoulikeher?”
Hiseyebrowsfurrowedtogetherlikehehadn’texpectedthequestion,whichwasfair,becauseIhadn’texpectedtoaskit.
ButIneededtoknow.
HeswallowedandIthoughthewasn’tgoingtoanswer,butthenhesaid,“Alexisgreat.”
“Oh.”Ihopedmyfacedidn’tshowhowcloseIwastocrying,howthatonesyllablewaslikeapunchtothestomach.“Well,yay.I’vegottogo.”
Itookasteparoundhim,buthegrabbedmyarmandstoppedme.“That’sit?You’renotgoingtoexplainwhatallofthatwas?”
“Itdoesn’tmatternow.”
“Itmight.”
“Itdoesn’t,okay?”Itriedtosoundlightandeasy,likeIwasfinewitheverythingashedroppedhishand.“ImadetheCDandsetanembarrassingscenebecauseIrealizedthatMichaelisn’tthepersonIcan’tstopthinkingabout,andIwantedtotellyou.Imean,he’sgreat,butbeingwithhimisnothinglikeeatingburgerswithyou,orsneakingouttotheSecretAreatomakes’moresandlookatthestars,orfightingwithyouoveraparkingspace.Butittookmetoolongtofigurethatout,andnowyou’vegotAlex.”
Heopenedhismouth,butIshookmyhead.
“No.It’sfine—Igetit.She’sflawlessandsweet,andasmuchasIhatetosayit,youdeservesomeonelikeher.”Itookabig,shakybreathasthosedarkeyesmademesosorryforeverythingI’ddonetogetushere.“BecauseIwaswrong,Wes.Youarethegoodstuff.”
Hescratchedhischinandlookedpastme,downthestreet.Thenhesettledhiseyesonmyfaceandsaid,“That’snottheonlythingyou’rewrongabout.”
“What?”LeaveittohimtokickmewhenI’mdown.“What’reyoutalkingabout?”
“You’rewrongaboutAlex.She’snotflawless.”
“Bennett,nooneistotallyflawless—comeon.”Icouldn’tbelievehisnerve.“She’sprettydangclose,though.”
“Isuppose.”
“Yousuppose?Whatonearthcouldshepossiblybelacking?Doyouwantbiggerboobsorsomething?Isshenot—”
“She’snotyou.”
“What?”
“She.Isn’t.You.”
Ishutmymouthandlookedathim,scaredtobelievehewassayingwhatitsoundedlikehewassaying.
“She’spretty,butherfacedoesn’ttransformintosunlightwhenshetalksaboutmusic.”Hedidthatclenchthingwithhisjawandsaid,“She’sfunny,butnotspit-out-your-drink-in-astonishmentfunny.”
Itfeltlikemyheartwasgoingtoexplodeashiseyesmoveddowntomylipsundertheglowofthebuzzingstreetlight.Hemovedhisfacealittleclosertomine,lookedintomyeyes,andrumbled,“AndwhenIseeher,Idon’tfeellikeIhavetotalktoherormessupherhairordosomething—anything—togethertoswingthatgazeonme.”
MyhandswereshakingwhenItuckedmyhairbehindmyearsandbreathed,“Youhaven’tmessedupmyhairinareallylongtime.”
“Andit’sbeenkillingme.”Hetookastepcloser,whichpressedmeagainstthesideofmycar.“Ifellinlovewithteasingyouinthesecondgrade,whenIfirstdiscoveredthatIcouldturnyourcheekspinkwithjustaword.ThenIfellinlovewithyou.”
I’mprettysuremyheartwasdevelopinganarrhythmiawitheachwordhesaid.“SoyouandAlexaren’t—”
“Nope.”Hereacheddownandwrappedthedrawstringsonmyhoodie—hishoodie—aroundhishands.“We’rejustfriends.”
“Oh.”Mybrainwastryingtokeepup,buthishandsomefacewasmakingitdifficult.Thatandhissuddenpresenceinmypersonalspace,nottomentionthegentlepullofhimtuggingmecloser.Iwasmuddled.“Well,whydidyouactlikeyouwantedmetosayyestoMichael’spromposal?”
“You’velovedhimsincekindergarten.”HiseyeswereallIcouldseeashequietlysaid,“Ididn’twantourkisstogetinthewayofthatifitwaswhatyoureallywanted.”
HowhadIeverthoughtWeswasanythingotherthanamazing?Ididn’teventrytostopthelovesicksmilefromtakingovermyfaceasIsetmyhandsonhischestandsaid,“WhatIreallywantedwastogowithyou.”
“Well,youcould’vetoldmethat,Buxbaum.”Hisvoicewasjustabreathbetweenusashesaid,“BecausejustseeingyouinthatdressmademewanttopunchourverygoodfriendMichael.”
“Itdid?”
Heyankedonthedrawstring.“That’snotsupposedtomakeyouhappy.”
“Iknow.”IwasgivingawaymyeveryemotionasIbeamedupathim,butIcouldn’thelpit.Icouldn’tholdbackandbecoolevenifItried.BecausethethoughtofWesbeingpissedatMichael—andjealous—overme,wasjusttoowonderful.“Butitdoes.It’sjustsoswoony.”
“Forgetswoony.”Heletgoofthestringsandslidhishandsupthesidesofmyfaceuntilhewasholdingitinhisbigpalms.Isuckedinabreathashismouthlowered,andmybraincueduptheperfectsongforthisending.Orrather,thisbeginning.
I’vebeensearchingalongtime,
Forsomeoneexactlylikeyou
OurkisswasbreathlessandwildandWespulledawaytoosoon.Hewrappedhisarmsaroundme,pickedmeup,andmovedmetothetrunkofmycar.
Hesmiledafterploppingmedownandsaid,“Doyourealizewecould’vebeendoingthisforyearsifyouweren’tsuchapainintheass?”
“Nah—Ididn’tlikeyouuntilrecently.”
“Enemies-to-lovers—it’sourtrope,Buxbaum.”
“Youpoor,confusedlittlelovelover.”AgiggleshimmiedthroughmebeforeIsetmyhandsonhisfaceandsaidasIpulledhimbacktome,“Justshutupandkissme.”
CuetheBazzi.EPILOGUE
“Agirlwillneverforgetthefirstboyshelikes.”
—He’sJustNotThatintoYou
“Butshe’llalsoneverforgetthefirstboyshehates.”
—LizBuxbaum
Idroppedthebrightyellowmumintotheholeandcoveredtherootswithdirt.Theearly-SeptembersunwashotonmyfaceasIplantedtheflowers,butithadtheblurryfeelofadayintransition,likeitsheatwasallforshowandentirelylackinginthepowerit’donceheld.
“Sinceyouhavedaisiesinthesummer,wethoughtitmightbeniceforyoutohavemumsinthefall.”Ilookedatmymom’sheadstoneandwonderedhowIwasgoingtocopewiththedistance.IwasdowntoonehouruntilIleftforCalifornia,andeventhoughlogicallyIknewitwassilly,atinypartofmeworriedIwasgoingtofeellostwithoutourdailychats.
“ItwasallHelena’sidea.”Westookasipofwaterbeforepickingupthebagofpottingsoilandsayingtomymother’sheadstone,“Don’tletyourkidtakeallthecredit.”
IthadbeenHelena’sidea.SheandIhadhadalotofgoodtalksafterprom,andshehadbeensuperunderstandingaboutmygrief.InsteadoftryingtoconvincemethatIshouldmoveonorgetclosure,she’dboughtalittlebenchforthegravesite—withalovelyfloralcushion—soIwouldn’thavetositontheground.
She’dalsoboughtmeajacketmadeofalpacahairbecauseshe’dreadthatghostsinherentlyknowthatthewearerofthatmaterialisnotathreat.ShemademeweariteverytimeIwenttothecemeteryafterdark,becauseshedidn’twantmegettingpossessedbythedeviloroneofhislackeys.
Iwasreallystartingtolovemygoofystepmom.
“He’sright.”Isaid,stickingoutmytongueatWes.“ButIlovetheidea.Thisway,eventhoughI’mnothere,myflowerswillbloombesideyou.”
“UnlesstheydiebecauseLizisahorriblegardener.”
Igrinnedandlaunchedthetrowelinhisdirection.“Thatcouldactuallyhappen.Yourgreenthumb—andfrankly,yourdesiretoevenhaveone—isclearlyskippingageneration.”
Wescaughtthegardeningtoolasifhe’dexpectedthethrowandtookthesuppliestohiscar.Idustedmyhandsonmyjeansandsatbackonmyheels.ItwasalittlehardtobelievethatWesandIwerebothgoingawaytoCaliforniaafterweweredone,butitfeltright.He’salwaysbeenthere—theannoyingboynextdoor—andnowhewasgoingtobetheannoyingboyinthedormnextdoor.
Asitturnedout,Weswasarockstarpitcherandgotoffersfromschoolsalloverthecountry.Intheendhe’dselectedUCLA,buthemadesureIknewithadnothingtodowithme.IbelievehisexactwordshadbeenSowe’retotallyfreetodumpeachotherinCaliwithoutanyweirdguilt.Thisisjustafreakaccidentthatwe’regoingtothesameschool,notanylovebullshit.
Andthenhe’dgivenmeaboyishgrinandakissthatmademeforgetmyname.
Forafewmonthsnow,Weshadbeengoingwithmetomymom’sgraveacoupletimesaweek.HeusuallywanderedawaysoIcouldtalktoher—rainorshine—butthenhealwayscamebackintimetosaygoodbyetomymomandtellhersomethingsarcasticaboutme.
Itwascheesy,andIadoredhimforit.
“Well,”Isaid,“weshouldprobablygetgoingbecausewe’resupposedmeetDad,Helena,andJossintenminutes.”
Weweremeetingatacaféforbreakfast,andthenmydadandHelenaweredrivingtheU-HaultoCaliforniawhileWesandIfollowedinhiscar.
Istoodandlookedoverathimasheclosedthetrunk.HewaswearingtheT-shirtI’dboughthimasagraduationpresent;itsaidEDUCATEDFEMINISTBRO.I’dboughtittobefunny,butheworeitallthetime.
Itwentwellwithhissmart-asssmile.
Iwatchedhimwalkaroundthecarandopenthebackdoor,whereMr.Fitzpervertwassittinginhiscarrierinmyfavoritelittleplaidscarf,earsupandlisteningtoeveryoutdoornoisethecemeteryhadtooffer.WescalledhimMr.FuzzywiththeSillyClothesandactedlikehedidn’tlikecats,buthealsoalwaysscratchedhiminthatexactplaceFitzlikedbehindhisear.AndasIstoodthere,watchinghimtalktomycat,Irealizedthetruth.
Weswasthegoodguyinthemovie.Yes,hewasfunnyandthelifeoftheparty,buthewasalsodependableandunderstandingandloyal.EventhoughIrealizedafterpromthatIdidn’tneedhimtobe,hewasaMarkDarcy.
Onlybetter.
Iwasabouttosayitoutloud,tomymom,whenWeslookedatmewiththatsmileIloved.“Youready,Buxbaum?Mr.Fuzzy’sgettinghungryandsoamI.”
ItwasWes’sideatochoosesomewherewithoutdoorseatingsoFitzcouldenjoythegreatoutdoorsfromhiscarrierbeforethelongcarride.
HowcouldInotlovehim?
“Yeah.”Inarrowedmyeyesathimbutruinedtheeffectbysmiling.“Butit’s‘Mr.Fitzpervert,’youtool.”
Istartedwalkingtowardhim,butwhenIglancedbackatmymom’sheadstone,Ialmosttripped.Becauseacardinalhadlandedonthechokecherrybranchthathungdownbesideit.Hewasbrightredandbeautiful,justsittingonthebranchandlookinginmydirection.
Iblinkedfastandnarrowedmyeyesasheopenedhisbeakandchirpedthesweetestlittlemelody.
IturnedbacktoWes,andhewaslookingatitovermyshoulder.Isaid,“Youseeittoo,right?”
Hegaveanod.“Holyshit.”
Webothstoodthere,staringatthebird.Afteranothermomentheflewaway,butmyheartfeltlighter,likemymotherhadwantedtomakesureIknewshewashappyaboutmeleaving.Iclearedmythroatandfacedhim.“Youready?”
“Youokay?”Hetooktwostepsandwasthere,wrappinghisbigbodyaroundmine.Heranhishandovermybackandsaidintomyhair,“Becausewecanstayaslongasyouwant,Liz.”
“I’mgreat,actually.”Ipulledbackandletmyselfstareathishandsomeface,atthepersonwhohadalwaysbeenthereforme,evenwhenIhadn’twantedhimtobe.“Let’sgoeat.”THESOUNDTRACKOFWESANDLIZ
SomeoneLikeYou|VanMorrison
PaperRings|TaylorSwift
Lovers|AnnaoftheNorth
oceaneyes|BillieEilish
BadLiar|SelenaGomez
PublicServiceAnnouncement(Interlude)|Jay-Z
UpAllNight|MacMiller
HowWouldYouFeel(Paean)|EdSheeran
HelloOperator|TheWhiteStripes
Paradise|Bazzi
Sabotage|BeastieBoys
Feelin’Alright|JoeCocker
SomeoneLikeYou|Adele
MonkeyWrench|FooFighters
BellaLuna|JasonMraz
ForrestGump|FrankOcean
Electric(feat.Khalid)|AlinaBaraz
Kiss|TomJones
EnterSandman|Metallica
DeathwithDignity|SufjanStevens
WeAreYoung|fun.feat.JanelleMonáe
NewYear’sDay|TaylorSwift
River|JoniMitchell
Paradise|BazziACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Ishouldprobablythankeveryoneontheplanet,God,theuniverse,shootingstars,andthatsummerdandelionthatIwishedupononce,becausesurely,allofthosethingsmust’vecomeintoplayinorderforthistohappen,right?YOUGUYS—MYNAMEISONTHESPINEOFTHISBOOK.LIKE,DUUUUUUUUUUUDE!
ThankYOU,readerwhoisperusingthispage.You’repartofmydream-come-truenow,andI’meternallygratefulthatyoupickedupmybook.
Mybrilliant,wonderful,funny,epicdealmakerofanagent,KimLionetti.ThankGodyousawsomethinginthatfirstramblingmanuscript,becauseyoucarvedoutthepathforthistohappenforme—allIhadtodowasfollowalong.You’readream-makerextraordinaire,agranterofwishes,andaneditorialgoddess,andwordscannotexpresshowblessedIfeeltohaveyou—andtheentireBookendsteam(wavingatyou,McGowan)—inmycorner.
Myeditor,JessiSmith—Amillionthank-yous(x1000)forlettingmeworkwithyouonthisbook.Thisentireexperiencehasbeenthemostbuzzy,happy,rewardingprojectIevercould’vewishedfor.YouareaDREAMeditor,andI’msohappywegettodoanotherbooktogether!
TheremarkablehumansatSSBFYR—I’minaweofeverythingyou’vedoneforthisbook.MorganYork,thankyouforbeingthewizardwhokeepseverythingmoving.MackenzieandArdenandtheteaminCanada—youguysarerockstars.HeatherPalisi—inmywildestdreams,Icouldn’thaveimaginedamoreperfectlydesignedcover.LizCasal—howwasIluckyenoughtogetyouastheartistformycover?Icouldn’tloveitmore.AndtherestoftheBFYRteam—youarearidiculouslytalented,well-oiledcreativemachine,andIamabsolutelylegitnotworthy.YoumademydreamintoatangibleobjectIcanholdinmyhand;fairygodpeople,thelotofyou.
Finneas,BillieEilish,Adele,JustinHurwitz,PostMalone,FrankOcean—thoughyouwilllikelyneverseethis,thankyouforcontributingtomyBTTMwritingplaylist.Yourmusicwastheperfectvibeandwillforeverbeapartofthisstoryinmyheart.
CheyanneYoung—youweremyfirst-ever“author-friend”andyou’remytotalwriterrolemodel.Idon’tknowwhatIwould’vedonewithoutyourfeedback,advice,andventingpartnership;you’resimplythebest.Eww,David.Ican’twaittoseeyourbookonthebigscreen!
KotaJones,TessaAdams,JennieGollehon,KellyRiibe,andJimPlath—youguyshavebeenkindenoughtolookatrandomgarbagedrafts,andIoweyoubig-time.TiffanyEpp—Iwillforeverthinkofyouasmyfirstreader,myfirstfan,becauseyoureadmygarbagebeforeanyoneelseandlikedit.LoriAnderjaska—youhavemadstreetcredandyou’remyfavoritechickfromtheothersideofthetracks.Kerbin,mymanny—thanksforbabysittingKateallthosenightswhileIwaswriting—sorryIneverpaidyou.;)AndMarkGoslee—thankyouforputtingupwithme.Youlistentomerambleincessantly—allday,everyday—andhaveyettofire(orkill)me.
ProfessorAnnaMonardo—Youmademewanttobeabetterwriter,andthatchangedEVERYTHING.
Andnow—gulp—myfamily:
Mom—I’msogratefulthatyouanddadallowedmetobeavoracious,flashlight-under-the-covers,ultra-hyperreader.YoufosteredmyobsessionandenabledmyhabitviaScholasticbookorders,soIgottoliveahundredlivesinmychildhoodthroughfiction.#well-traveled
MaryLee—youarethekindestpersonontheplanet,thegoodsister,andIdon’tdeserveyoursupport.Youweretheone—backinfreaking1999—whosawanauthoronOprahandsaidtome,“Youreadallthetime;youshouldwriteabook.”I’vewrittenatleasttenawfulbookssincethen—probablymore—butfinallyfoundonethattook.Sothankyou.Andashout-outtoyouramazingclan:Brian,Josh,Jake,Rachel,Anna,Zakari,andDontavius.
Mybonusfamily—Phil,Barb,Marilyn,Garwood,Wendy,Scott,Joyce,Demi,andDeon.Ifyouwereoverbearingorawful,Isurelywould’veturnedtoalcoholinsteadofdaydreaming,andthiswouldneverhavehappened.Sothankyou,in-laws,fornotsucking.
Myoffspring—Cassidy,Tyler,Matt,Joe,andKate.IloveyouguysmorethanIcanevensay,andthankyouforbeingokaywithhavingamomwhospendswaymoretimedaydreamingandreadingthancooking,cleaning,orcrafting.Also—thankyouforbeinginsomanysportychildhoodactivities.Itgavemeendlessopportunitiestozoneout(becausegameswithballscanbebrutallyboring)andfollowmycharactersastheytraversedtheworldinmymind.Inaway,yourathleticprowess(orlackthereof—lookingatyou,Cass)helpedmehonemycraft.YouarefiveofthefunniesthumansIknowandIcouldn’tbeprouderofeachoneofyou.(P.S.ThankyouTerranceandJordynfornotonlytakingtwoofthemoffourhands,butforputtingupwithallthemadnessthatcomeswithourfamily.)
Andfinally—Kevin.You’retrulythesmartest,funniest,BESThumanI’veeverknownandmyfavoritepersonintheworld(sorry,kids).YoudeserveaType-Awifewhocleanslikeamaidandcookslikeyourgrandma(whilewearingTheGoodMakeup),butunfortunately,yougotmeandit’stoolateforgivesie-backsies.You’restuckwiththishead-in-the-clouds,flannel-pant-wearingsnorerfortherestofyourlife.
Ifit’sanyconsolation,Iworshipthegroundyouwalkonandloveeverysingleincrediblethingaboutyou.
Sohere—havethisbook.Imadeitforyou.
Andlastbutnotleast,thankyoutoStarbucks,SpaghettiWorks,Rockstarenergydrinks,andMcDonald’s.Youtrulyarethewindbeneathmywings.ABOUTTHEAUTHOR
AuthorphotobyJACKSONOKUN
LYNNPAINTERlivesinOmaha,Nebraska,withherhusbandandpackofwildchildren.She’sabiweeklycontributortotheOmahaWorld-Herald’sparentingsection,eventhoughsheisthepolaroppositeofaPinterestmom.Whensheisn’tchasingkids,shecanbefoundreading,writing,andshotgunningcansofRockstar.
Visitusatsimonandschuster.com/teen
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LibraryofCongressCataloging-in-PublicationData
Names:Painter,Lynn,author.
Title:Betterthanthemovies/LynnPainter.
Description:Firstedition.|NewYork:Simon&SchusterBFYR,[2021]|Summary:Michael,towhomLizBuxbaumgaveherheartlongago,hasreturnedbuttogethisattentionand,perhaps,apromdateshemustschemewithhernemesisWes,hernext-doorneighbor.
Identifiers:LCCN2020042771(print)|LCCN2020042772(ebook)
ISBN9781534467620(hardcover)|ISBN9781534467644(ebook)
Subjects:CYAC:Dating(Socialcustoms)—Fiction.|Highschools—Fiction.|Schools—Fiction.|Neighbors—Fiction.
Classification:LCCPZ7.1.P352Bet2021(print)|LCCPZ7.1.P352(ebook)|DDC[Fic]—dc23
LCrecordavailableathttps://lccn.loc.gov/2020042771
LCebookrecordavailableathttps://lccn.loc.gov/2020042772
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