You Have a Match(34)

“That’s a really cool idea.”

Leo falls into a satisfied quiet, then nudges me with his elbow. “And if you think that sneaky bid to get yourself some PB&J cinnamon rolls went unnoticed, you’re wrong.”

“They’re your secret weapon.”

“Weapon? With Mickey, those would be like showing up to a gunfight with a pool noodle.”

“You’re still cutting out. Hold on. Sometimes I get service down by the water.”

Leo and I turn toward the voice to see Savvy, pacing far enough away that she can’t see us, but close enough that we can hear nearly every word she’s saying.

“No, you said you’d come here after two weeks, and two weeks after that I’d visit you. I literally sent you a Gcal invite. I checked on it an hour ago when I was going through parent emails to the camp staff. ‘Jo visits Savvy.’ And two weeks after that, ‘Savvy visits Jo.’”

Right. Jo. The elusive girlfriend I’ve only ever seen in the edges of Instagram pictures or heard laughing in the background of an Instagram story. Last week we got as much as her full forearm and hand.

“I can’t switch. I have to be here the whole monthlong session, I only get the one window to leave before the second one starts. We did talk about this, at your graduation party, remember? Like, exhaustively. Hence the Gcal invites.”

I cringe. My own attempt at a love life may have spent the last few months circling the drain, but even I draw the line at romance via G Suite.

“That’s … wow. Okay. Maybe I don’t, but it’s important to me. Okay? Just because I’m not spending my whole summer rubbing elbows with people in power suits doesn’t mean—wait, what?” Savvy’s voice switches from annoyed to near livid. “Mickey literally has nothing to do with—shoot, I can’t hear you. Hold on, I’ll try the break room again…”

She wanders off without noticing us. We both shift awkwardly in her wake. I want to ask, and it feels like I should be able to, as if as her full-blooded whatever I am to her that I have some built-in right. But I don’t, really. And in all my years of firsthand experience of being Leo’s friend, I know he’d never talk about someone else’s business.

“You know what’s wild,” says Leo in a hushed voice—not like he’s worried Savvy’s going to come back, but like he doesn’t want to interrupt the stillness. We’ve migrated even closer to each other on the bench, his bare knee brushing mine, sending tingles up my skin. “I mean, aside from how your parents kept this massive secret from you. Somehow, even though I’ve known you both forever and you’re basically carbon copies of each other, it never once crossed my mind.”

“Uh, because we are of a different species?”

I’m prepared for Leo to say a lot of things, but not for him to defend Savvy. “The two of you just need to try to put yourself in each other’s shoes,” he says, all the confirmation I need that Mickey has filled him in on our running spat. “And maybe go easy on Savvy.”

“Whoa. Whose team are you on here?”

“I’m not on a team,” says Leo. “You’re both way too important to me for that.”

I know it’s irrational, but that’s the last thing I want to hear. Especially when I’m out of my element, surrounded on all sides by Savvy’s friends and Savvy’s fan club, not just immersed but fully dunked into Savvy’s world.

“And you have more in common than you think.”

I snort. “I’ve never been less like anyone in my life. You said it yourself on the ferry, didn’t you?” I say, pointing out toward the water. It’s turned an eerie, unusual magenta in the time we’ve been talking, the sky thick with color and clouds. “She’s so high-strung. Obsessed with her rules and her schedules. She’s basically running around on anxiety fumes. We’re nothing alike.”

“Uh, Abby, you’re like, one of the most anxious people I know.”

I raise my eyebrows. A lot can been said about me, maybe, but certainly not that. If anything, looking at my grades, I’m sure you could argue I’m not anxious enough. Leo doesn’t back down, though, raising his eyebrow right back.

“I mean, you’re my—we’re best friends. I know Connie and I make jokes about you swerving away from dealing with stuff, but that’s its own kind of anxiety, you know? I think sometimes you get overwhelmed and … avoid things. Bury them.”

It stings, and he knows it. It’s why he’s saying it so gently, and why he’s giving me the space to tell him he’s wrong even though we both know he isn’t. The proof is in a lot of things, but more than anything, in the distance between us—not the physical distance, but the distance I made all on my own.

Not telling Leo about Savvy. Not telling Leo about my feelings when I had them. Not telling Leo about them in all the months they’ve only gotten worse since.

“Connie said it was being a Hufflepuff,” I remind him, trying to brush it off.

“Of course she did, she’s a Slytherin. Plus she lives to fight your battles for you.” Leo’s eyes are on mine, a challenge. “You know we’re always in your corner, right? But there are some things you gotta own up to yourself.”

We both know, in the split second after he says it, he doesn’t mean me lying about Savvy.