to see it. Open it. The strength it took to resist.
Instead, I’d told my therapist about these feelings (but not about the box, because that was one secret I needed to hold on to). My therapist told my doctor, and my doctor tinkered with my dosage.
“Yes,” I finally said. “It threw me good.”
We drove home with all four windows down, the breeze deep in my lungs.
I looked at my hand and wondered where the creases on Camden’s palm had lined up with the ones on mine.
I’d left my number. It would have felt worse if I hadn’t, but I was sort of at his mercy now.
Wait, who was I kidding? I’d been at his mercy all along.
8
I opened my eyes in the half-light of Kendall’s bedroom, not sure what time it was or whether I had actually slept at all.
This room was so familiar from our years of sleepovers. The blue shag area rug on the floor next to me, the pile of dirty clothing that was always different but also, somehow, the same. Kendall’s ceiling with the hot-air balloon mobile hanging in the corner, the window with the cracked pane, that poster of the kittens eating cake. Even the air mattress under my sleeping bag was a type of home.
In this moment, it was easy to feel like the night before had never happened, that none of its strange magic or glorioussurprises had, in fact, been real. Maybe we were still twelve, fourteen, sixteen, and we’d made it all up in a story we’d told each other in the dark.
“Will you help me write an email to James?” said Kendall’s voice suddenly from the bed.
“You’re awake?”
“Duh.”
I laughed with relief.
“Did you sleep at all?” I asked.
“I’m not sure.”
I laughed again, then got up, retrieved Kendall’s laptop from her desk, and fell onto the foot of her bed.
“Move over,” I said.
She scooched close to her pillows and hugged her knees close.
“Do you think he liked me?” she asked.
“Uh, yeah.”
“Because they always seem like they like me, at first. But then something changes. I can’t figure out what.”
“It’s not you,” I said, not sure if that were completely true. Kendall usually clammed up and got so shy, so nervous. The more she liked someone and the closer they got to something sparking, the weirder she started acting. I could easily see how a guy could misinterpret that as her pushing him away. But I’d never been able to tell her this. Especially after Lady Bic Night, and after Lukas. Our lives had diverged too much in this department.
But right now, we were at the same point, hovering on the edge of something with someone. This changed everything.
“I guess we’ll see,” said Kendall.
“You’ve been lying here, writing a rough draft in your head, yes?”
“Oh, yes.”
I passed her the laptop. “Okay, show me.”
Kendall pulled up to the curb in front of Millie’s. We’d pressed Send on her email to James and jumped on the air mattress for a few minutes. I was convinced that light rays of nervous energy were about to shoot out of our fingers.
“You’ll keep me posted?” I asked.
“You’ll turn on your goddamn phone at some point?” she shot back, pointing with her chin at my bag. I hadn’t yet dared switch it on. If it wasn’t on, I couldn’t not get a call.
“Yes, yes.”
“Do it now. I want to watch you do it.”
I gave her a dirty look. “Fine. But there won’t be anything. It’s too early.”
I fished out my phone, held down the Power button, and the screen lit up. We waited for a few seconds for it to tell me I had a voice mail.
It didn’t tell me I had a voice mail.
“Too early, like you said,” said Kendall.
We both stared at the phone as if it might offer a more expert opinion. According to my data, the average turnaround time for a “call me” request to a potential love interest is 18.5 hours. If at all.
After Kendall drove away, I turned to see Richard standing in the window of the store, holding up two coffees.
“Fun night?” he asked as I came inside and
Instead, I’d told my therapist about these feelings (but not about the box, because that was one secret I needed to hold on to). My therapist told my doctor, and my doctor tinkered with my dosage.
“Yes,” I finally said. “It threw me good.”
We drove home with all four windows down, the breeze deep in my lungs.
I looked at my hand and wondered where the creases on Camden’s palm had lined up with the ones on mine.
I’d left my number. It would have felt worse if I hadn’t, but I was sort of at his mercy now.
Wait, who was I kidding? I’d been at his mercy all along.
8
I opened my eyes in the half-light of Kendall’s bedroom, not sure what time it was or whether I had actually slept at all.
This room was so familiar from our years of sleepovers. The blue shag area rug on the floor next to me, the pile of dirty clothing that was always different but also, somehow, the same. Kendall’s ceiling with the hot-air balloon mobile hanging in the corner, the window with the cracked pane, that poster of the kittens eating cake. Even the air mattress under my sleeping bag was a type of home.
In this moment, it was easy to feel like the night before had never happened, that none of its strange magic or glorioussurprises had, in fact, been real. Maybe we were still twelve, fourteen, sixteen, and we’d made it all up in a story we’d told each other in the dark.
“Will you help me write an email to James?” said Kendall’s voice suddenly from the bed.
“You’re awake?”
“Duh.”
I laughed with relief.
“Did you sleep at all?” I asked.
“I’m not sure.”
I laughed again, then got up, retrieved Kendall’s laptop from her desk, and fell onto the foot of her bed.
“Move over,” I said.
She scooched close to her pillows and hugged her knees close.
“Do you think he liked me?” she asked.
“Uh, yeah.”
“Because they always seem like they like me, at first. But then something changes. I can’t figure out what.”
“It’s not you,” I said, not sure if that were completely true. Kendall usually clammed up and got so shy, so nervous. The more she liked someone and the closer they got to something sparking, the weirder she started acting. I could easily see how a guy could misinterpret that as her pushing him away. But I’d never been able to tell her this. Especially after Lady Bic Night, and after Lukas. Our lives had diverged too much in this department.
But right now, we were at the same point, hovering on the edge of something with someone. This changed everything.
“I guess we’ll see,” said Kendall.
“You’ve been lying here, writing a rough draft in your head, yes?”
“Oh, yes.”
I passed her the laptop. “Okay, show me.”
Kendall pulled up to the curb in front of Millie’s. We’d pressed Send on her email to James and jumped on the air mattress for a few minutes. I was convinced that light rays of nervous energy were about to shoot out of our fingers.
“You’ll keep me posted?” I asked.
“You’ll turn on your goddamn phone at some point?” she shot back, pointing with her chin at my bag. I hadn’t yet dared switch it on. If it wasn’t on, I couldn’t not get a call.
“Yes, yes.”
“Do it now. I want to watch you do it.”
I gave her a dirty look. “Fine. But there won’t be anything. It’s too early.”
I fished out my phone, held down the Power button, and the screen lit up. We waited for a few seconds for it to tell me I had a voice mail.
It didn’t tell me I had a voice mail.
“Too early, like you said,” said Kendall.
We both stared at the phone as if it might offer a more expert opinion. According to my data, the average turnaround time for a “call me” request to a potential love interest is 18.5 hours. If at all.
After Kendall drove away, I turned to see Richard standing in the window of the store, holding up two coffees.
“Fun night?” he asked as I came inside and
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