Not If I See You First(53)
“Whatever the opposite of creepy is.”
He blows air out of his nose. “You still like him, don’t you?”
“I broke up with him, remember?”
“Part of you still likes him though.”
“He was my best friend for years. Some things you can’t just switch off.” Even though I sort of did. “What does it matter anyway? We’re not together now.”
“Maybe you want to be.”
It’s unsettling how his words are provoking but he talks in an easygoing voice. I don’t know what to make of it.
“Are you asking a question?”
“I just want to know where we stand.”
“Um… we met a week ago… then we went out Saturday night… and it was fun… and… we should do it again sometime? How’s that?”
“Are you going to call him again?”
“I don’t know, maybe?” This is getting weirder. I try to defuse it with a smile. “Is that a problem?”
“I’m just saying, either we’re doing this or we’re not, it’s up to you.”
“Doing what? Liking each other? Having a good time?”
“No, you know… seeing each other.”
“Isn’t it a bit soon to be talking about being exclusive?” Wow, if I could go back in time, Parker back in August wouldn’t believe the conversations she’s having now, only a few weeks later. “We’ve only been out once.”
“You climbed into the backseat fast enough. Is that normal for you?”
“No! Is it normal for you? You drove us to the Bluff fast enough! It was my first time there—how many girls do you bring up there?”
“None while you and I are going out.”
“Well don’t do me any favors. You can park with anyone you want and so can I until we agree otherwise, but it’s going to take more than one night out, I’m just telling you now.”
“Yeah, you’re telling me a lot.”
“I’m just being honest.”
“Things aren’t that simple.”
“Really? I think they are.”
Silence.
Quack.
“That’s Sarah wondering where I am. I gotta go. We can talk about this more at lunch if you want.” I sure hope he doesn’t, though. I unfold my cane.
“Fine. Okay. Later.”
I sit down at the usual table with Sarah. I’m still buzzing inside.
“I didn’t listen to your text—I just came straight here.”
“Just asking where you were.”
“Having a shitty conversation with Jason. He somehow thought it was our new routine to spend mornings together so when I said I was coming here he got all twitchy, like I was flaking on him to be with you.”
“Bitches before… britches?”
“Jesus, Sarah, did you just make that up?”
“Yeah, sorry, that sucked. You think I’d memorize something that lame?”
“It’s true, though.”
“You still like him?”
“As far as I know him, but… well, it hasn’t been the smoothest ride.”
“Does he know what day it is?”
I face her. “Do you?”
She scoots closer to me, bumping my hip, and puts her arm around my shoulders.
“Of course I do.”
Yesterday we spent the rest of the afternoon mostly talking about her stuff. Not much about Scott other than telling her everything that happened at his house. She tried to get me to talk about it more but I’d said all there was to say. I’m not sure how I feel and said so. I didn’t mention my dad’s birthday.
“You doing okay?”
“I got my gold star last night if that answers your question.”
“It doesn’t, but that’s okay.” She squeezes my shoulder and lets go.
Sarah doesn’t approve of my Star Chart. She thinks it’s about stifling emotions that should be let out. She’s one to talk.
“You seem tired. You sleep last night? Or run extra hard this morning?”
“I didn’t run.”
“You…” She shifts to face me. “You didn’t run?”
“No. I was… I was too… I don’t know. Too wobbly.”
“That’s… too bad…” Her voice softens. “You’re going to need your strength.”
I hear someone approach and sit down. A hard landing. Then a sniff. A productive sniff.
I’m only ninety-five percent sure who it is.
“Hey, Marissa,” Sarah says.
Sarah’s right, I don’t have the strength for this. I just waggle my hand.
“How are you doing?” Sarah asks.
Sniff.
Sarah tries again. “Is there something you want to talk about?”
Sniff.
“I have a question,” I say, surprising myself, since two seconds ago I was sure I was going to sit this one out. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you love Owen?”
“What do you mean? Why does anybody love anybody? You just do.”
“No,” I say, and Sarah is already clicking her tongue but I keep going. “There are always reasons. Does he know how you like your coffee? Does he take you to stupid romantic comedies just because you like them?”