The Best Possible Answer(12)

“The triangular theory of love?” I ask.

“Intimacy, passion, and commitment,” Evan recites. “The three essential components of love, according to one theorist.”

“What was up with his little parade of Speedos this morning?” Sammie asks.

“I don’t know. I saw that. And he didn’t say a word to me all morning. It was like he didn’t remember me at all,” Evan says. “Why do you call him ‘the Nut’?”

“It’s what Vivi’s little sister calls him,” Sammie says, and then she makes me tell them the story about the pistachios, and we sing two verses and the chorus of the “I’m a Nut” song.

He gives us a guess you had to be there look, and I suddenly feel like a child for making fun of someone who probably suffers with issues. “Sorry,” I say finally. “Do you think he has a mental disorder?”

“Honestly, I don’t think so,” Evan says. “He’s incredibly intelligent. Sure, he exhibits some behaviors, as he himself might describe, that fall outside of the normative, but he can’t help it. It’s probably his own little game, some experiment he’s conducting to test our reactions. He’s probably the one doing the observing.”

God, I like Evan. Besides the hotness factor, I like how he talks, how he thinks. I like that he’s smart and sharp and—I don’t know—open to possibility.

Evan’s smiling. “Hey, you guys. I just thought of something. Do you want to play a game?”

“Oh no,” Virgo says. “Not a game.”

Sammie explains. “Each summer involves some kind of game.”

“Usually it’s just a bet,” Evan says. “Like how many banana hammocks in one day. Or how long until a kid throws up.”

“Banana hammocks?” I ask.

“Speedos,” Sammie explains.

“Nothing too serious,” Evan insists. “No one will get hurt or anything like that.”

“Well, except last summer,” Virgo says, “someone”—he looks at Evan—“stole the stamp from Rocket Subs and a bunch of those ‘Buy eight, eat one free’ cards. They tallied how many free subs they could get before the owner realized and got a new stamp.”

“Sixteen days, twenty-two subs,” Evan says with pride.

“Yeah, and that didn’t end well,” Virgo says. “Jasmine Picard almost got fired for that little escapade, since she was the one in charge. And now you’re on my watch.”

“Walk away if you’re not interested,” Evan says. “Bennett pool games are a long-standing tradition, one that cannot be stalled by one minor unfortunate conclusion.”

Virgo takes his advice and walks away.

Evan opens a locker on the wall behind us, pulls out his wallet, and then jumps up and sits on the counter, right next to me. “Are you betting girls?”

His face is lit with excitement, and I answer quickly. “Depends,” I say. “I could be a betting girl.”

Something about him strikes something in me—maybe it’s the lame memory of my fifteen seconds in heaven—but I instantly regret my response. I am not a betting girl. I am a play-by-the-rules, don’t-ever-get-in-trouble girl. I mean, I used to be. Once should have been enough to teach me a good lesson.

And then Sammie kicks me under the counter.

“Ouch.”

I look at her. He’s mine, her eyes say.

She’s into him. I hadn’t realized. Of course. Why wouldn’t she be? He’s cute. He’s smart. He’s funny.

My friendship with Sammie matters more than anything, except Mila. And anyway, the last thing I need right now is the distraction of a cute, smart, and funny guy. Her kick forces me to recall my promise—to myself, to my family—to keep it all together.

But before I can back out, Evan smiles at me and says, “Excellent.” And then he turns to Sammie. “What about you? Play with us?”

She pulls out her wallet, even though I know money’s tight for her. “Of course I’m in. What are we betting on?”

“Simple. What time he’ll come back. Two bucks each. The one closest to the real time wins the pot.” He puts his money on the counter. “But we need to round up more players.”

Evan leaves us to invite the other guards to join the pot, and Sammie collapses onto the counter.

“Why are you kicking me? Do you like him?”

“Ugh,” she mumbles. “It doesn’t matter. It’s obvious he’s into you.”

“No thanks,” I say, lying to myself and to her. “You know I’ve sworn off guys forever.”

She lifts her head. “Oh come on, Vivi, forever? Just because of one minor incident?”

“No,” I remind her. “Just because of one major scandal involving one major jerkwad who ruined my reputation for life.”

“What reputation? Here at Bennett Tower Pool, there is no scandal. You have no reputation. No one here knows anything about you.”

“Seriously. You should totally go for Evan,” I say.

“But—”

“Really. I’m not interested. At all. He’s all yours. I just want to take it easy this summer, use my time to get back on track in school, and enjoy not knowing anyone.”