Once and for All(44)

“But it was clearly assumed.”

“That’s on them, not me.” I cocked my head to the side, making it clear I doubted this logic. “Look, I like hanging out with girls, plural. Commitment doesn’t really work for me.”

“Maybe because you’re always hanging out with girls, plural?” I suggested.

“No,” he countered, “because it’s too serious. Everything gets, like, heavy, immediately. And all the questions: Where are you going? Who with? When will you be back? Why haven’t you called? What’s that glitter in your hair?”

“Glitter?”

He sighed. “Let me put it this way. You know that feeling, when you very first meet someone and there’s a spark, that undeniable attraction, and everything about them seems new and interesting and perfect?”

A boy on a beach, his hand outstretched. White shirt billowing in the dark. “Yeah,” I said. “Sure.”

“It’s the best, right? Like magic, that awesome.” I nodded. “So why, if you could, wouldn’t you want that all the time, every time?”

“Because,” I said, then realized immediately this was not an answer. I swallowed, taking a breath. “Then you only have beginnings, over and over again. Nothing substantial.”

“But substantial is complicated. Substantial,” he said, pointing at me, “is questions about glitter in your hair, or why you won’t tag along shopping, or whether you find her friends annoying.”

“So you don’t want anything that lasts,” I said, clarifying. “Only a bunch of magical first nights and days, strung along one right after the other.”

He smiled. “Doesn’t sound bad, does it? All the upsides of dating, none of the down.”

“Except when you get a drink thrown at you,” I pointed out.

He shrugged. “Shirts can be washed.”

We started walking again: it had been over an hour for each of us, and while my mom wasn’t exactly a bear, she would notice.

“Let me guess,” he said. “You think I’m terrible.”

“Not necessarily. It’s just . . . not my way, I guess.” I thought for a second. “What’s funny is that Jilly was just saying, basically, that I need to be more like you.”

“Really?” I nodded. “How so?”

I paused, wondering how exactly to say this, what I wanted to reveal. “My last relationship—my boyfriend—it was basically all one perfect early beginning. We met at the beach, clicked immediately, spent a whole night talking. Then we were long distance, so there was never a chance of anything getting old.”

He was quiet, listening to this. “Sounds nice.”

“It was.” I swallowed again. “Anyway, I haven’t dated since. I haven’t wanted to. And she maintains it’s because my expectations were set so high, right off the bat. Like no one will ever compete.”

“Do you think that?”

“I don’t know,” I said. This was the truth. “But maybe going into things hoping they will is the wrong approach. Like, if I date someone expecting nothing, I’d be better off.”

“I don’t expect nothing of the person,” he corrected me. “Just the relationship.”

“You’re just having fun, though,” I said. “No ties. No forever.”

“Ugh, no.” He winced. “And who wants to be tied?”

“I didn’t mind it with my boyfriend,” I said. “Which is exactly why your way wouldn’t work for me.”

He considered this. “Sure it would. You just have to do it.”

“Oh, right,” I said. “Because it would be that easy for you to change your ways, totally.”

“I could,” he said, confident.

“Ambrose. You’re seriously saying that it would be no problem at all for you to decide to date only one person, with an eye toward the long term, starting right now.”

“Yeah, if I wanted to. Easily.”

We were at the office door now. Through the glass, I could see my mom and William at the conference table, that week’s bride, Elinor Lin, between them. She was smart and gorgeous and had already had a dramatic, vocal meltdown about napkin holders. It was mid-June of my last summer doing this job. If I couldn’t sell cucumbers or sling coffee, maybe there was another way to endure.

“Want to bet on it?” I asked Ambrose.

He raised an eyebrow. “I’m listening.”

“What about this,” I said. “For a set period, I agree to date the way you do, multiple people, no commitment. At the same time, you find one girl and see her exclusively. We see who bows out first.”

“Oh, it’ll be you,” he said confidently.

“We haven’t even set the stakes,” I said, offended.

“I’m very competitive,” he explained. “Okay, specifics. What’s the time period?”

“Three weeks?” I wasn’t totally sure, but I thought I saw him waver. “What, too long?”

“I was thinking maybe not long enough,” he replied. “If I’m going to commit, I need to really go for it.”

“Four,” I said.

“Seven. That will get us to Bee’s wedding.”