Always Never Yours(35)

He stays silent. I’ve done my best. “I have to go home,” I say, pulling out my keys.

I get in the car and twist the key in the ignition. With the windows rolled up, I barely hear the muffled, “Did he really look at me twice?”

I roll down my window. “Forlornly.” I nod.

“I guess . . .” He puts his hands in his pockets. “I could invite him over for carne asada.”

My lips begin to form a smile. “What?”

Anthony returns the hint of a grin and nods in the direction of Verona.

“Break a leg,” I tell him.

When I pull onto the highway, for once I’m grateful for Dad and Rose’s trip to New York, because I know what I’m going to do tomorrow night. I’m taking my own advice.





TWELVE




ROMEO: Thou canst not teach me to forget.

I.i.246


I WORKED HARD ON THIS OUTFIT.

I hunted for nearly an hour in my closet for a dress, but nothing felt quite right. It was only when I got the brilliant idea to take apart the bridesmaid dress from Dad and Rose’s wedding that I found the perfect thing—a pale pink shift with lacy detailing in the neckline. It hits me mid-thigh, and I’ve paired it with studded black ankle boots and feather earrings to keep from looking too girly.

Because tonight, I have a plan. Will’s coming over, and we’re going to have sex for the first time. I’m not going to wait around for him to define our relationship. I want to enjoy every part of whatever this is with him while I can, and though I haven’t fallen for him yet—though our relationship’s much younger than Tyler’s and mine was—I’m not letting that get in my way. Why would I? I’m practically an adult. I’m a non-virgin, a sex-having person. This relationship’s quickly expiring under a ticking clock named Alyssa, and I want to feel that closeness with Will. So what if I have to rush a few steps?

By eight, I’m downstairs in my bronze eye shadow doing what every girl dreams of on a Friday night—reading Romeo and Juliet on the couch. Dad and Rose went to the airport this morning, Erin’s at my aunt’s, and I have the house to myself.

I roll my eyes at Juliet’s latest oversentimental proclamation. This bud of love, by summer’s ripening breath, may prove a beauteous flower when next we meet. The play’s a terrible distraction while I wait.

The doorbell rescues me from Juliet’s pining. I leap off the couch, then take a second to rearrange my hair. When I reach the door, I know I look amazing. I pull it open, and Will stands before me.

Never mind. He just redefined amazing.

He’s wearing a faded denim jacket over a plain white V-neck, and he’s cuffed his tight black pants above his Timberland boots. He rests his hands lightly in his pockets, and it takes everything in me not to attack him right there on the doorstep.

“Hey,” he says, and my pulse pounds. “I thought you might need a break from Romeo and Juliet”—he holds up a copy of Shakespeare in Love—“with some Romeo and Juliet.”

I laugh and shut the door behind him. “Two sexy Williams in one night? I think I’m blushing.”

He raises an incredulous eyebrow. “I’ve never seen you blush.”

“Then you’re not trying hard enough,” I say over my shoulder, walking farther into the living room. I reach the stairs and look back to find he’s sitting on the couch. Instead of following me. Owen was right, he is clueless. I remind myself he’s probably never done this before. “Oh,” I say nonchalantly, “I thought we’d watch on my laptop upstairs.”

“Why?” Will looks puzzled. “We’ve got the bigger screen down here.”

Oh my god. “I thought we’d watch on my bed,” I clarify with a meaningful look.

It takes him a second, but then the light goes on in his eyes and he jumps off the couch. “Oh. Yeah. Of course. Good thinking. Great thinking.”

Finally! Smiling to myself, I lead him upstairs. He’s quiet the whole way. As I’m putting the movie into my laptop, I notice he’s standing aimlessly in the middle of the room. Hands back in his pockets, he meanders over to my bookcase—on the opposite side of the room from my bed.

“That’s from The Crucible,” I say, nodding to the cast photo on the shelf he’s studying. “Freshman spring. It’s the first show I ever assistant-directed.”

“I remember,” he says, his back still to me. “I was in the crew.”

“No way.” I put the laptop down, surprised I don’t remember him and never noticed him in the photo. I walk over to the shelf beside him. Searching the photo, the first thing I notice is Tyler in the middle of the group, putting on his not-yet-perfected Tyler Dunning grin. There’s Anthony, a couple of rows behind him, his hair grown into something resembling an Afro and his arm around me. We were dating at the time. I lean in and inspect the back rows, and—

“No,” I gasp. Because there’s Will—or Billy, actually—rail-thin and with the awkwardly stringy hair of freshman boys everywhere.

“Don’t say a word,” Will says through his teeth.

I round on him teasingly. “But your hair.” It’s a sharp contrast from the perfect, gelled sweep of blond hair he’s presently running his hand through.