Undecided(36)

“I don’t doubt it.” I make my way over to the women’s clothing and Crosbie comes with me, thumbing through the long rack of jeans for a suitably tight, acid-washed pair. After a minute I get warm and unzip my coat, realizing my mistake the second Crosbie’s eyes lock on my chest, then slide up to the prim Peter Pan collar of my dress.

His brows tug together and he gestures at me with one finger. “Let’s talk about this,” he says. “Did you have a big date today? Or perhaps a…very pleasant date?”

I smile thinly, remembering the afternoon’s unpleasantness. “I had a meeting with…someone.”

He leans in conspiratorially. “Was it a boy?”

I snort and push him away. “Why? Are you jealous?”

For a second he doesn’t react. Our eyes lock and my hand feels like it’s stuck to his chest, my fingertips digging into his pecs. And then he shakes his head and smirks and I take away my hand. “You see right through me, Nora.”

“Ha. I haven’t seen you much at all since pizza night.” The night he pretended to be looking for Kellan, but really came looking for me.

He turns his attention back to the jeans. “I’ve been busy.”

“I see.”

“With school.”

“Right. Me too.”

A pause. “And Kellan told me you had some trouble last year and really need to study, so you can’t afford any distractions.”

“You don’t distract me.” The words come out a little too quickly.

“He said maybe the video games were a problem.”

“I just tune them out, like I do with most of your comments. It’s kind of like white noise now.”

He glances at me. “So what you’re saying is…I help you.”

“That’s exactly it.”

“I make you better.”

“Shut up, Crosbie.”

“You’ve missed me.”

Our eyes meet again, and even though he’d said the words in jest, I think we both know they’re a little bit true. Maybe a lot true.

“Kellan’s right that I have to keep my grades up, but it’s not terrible, having company sometimes.”

“Oh yeah?” He looks decidedly pleased and more than a little smug.

“Occasionally.”

“I’m your best friend, aren’t I?”

“I’ve changed my mind. The video games are a real problem.”

“Is that why you’re coming to the Halloween party?”

“Is what why? The video games?”

“To talk to someone. To meet people. To do what people do at parties.” He waggles his eyebrows and leans in a little, close enough I can smell the faint scent of shampoo on his still-damp hair.

Even though I know exactly what he’s referring to, I pretend I’m not sniffing him and ask, “What do you mean?”

“Have you ever been to a party, Nora?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t mean birthday parties when you were a kid.”

I roll my eyes. “Oh. In that case, no.”

“Yeah? What are you like at parties? Do you stand in the corner? Hide in the bathroom? Take a couple of pictures to show you were there, post them on Facebook, then run home to read?”

I stick out my tongue. “I’ll have you know I’m great at parties.” Or rather, Marcela was great at parties; I was okay after two drinks had loosened my inhibitions.

“Tell me.”

“Well, first I like to head right to the snack table.”

“Ooh.”

“I really go to town on the free chips.”

“This is a wild story, Nora.”

“Then I study all the family pictures on the wall, and ask the host questions about them.”

Crosbie grins. “I know you’re trying to sound like you’re joking, but I think this is true.”

“And then I go home. In bed by nine.”

He laughs. “What I always suspected.”

I find a couple of pairs of jeans and drape them over my forearm. “Okay, tell me your party strategy.”

“All right. Listen closely. Not a lot of girls get this type of intel. Mostly they’re too amazed by me to appreciate the process.”

“I don’t doubt it for a minute.”

“First I put on a T-shirt.”

“Whoa.”

“Then I add a pair of jeans.”

“I don’t think I can take much more.”

“Then I show up. Bam. Game over.” He brushes his hands together, mission accomplished.

“You make it sound so easy.”

He shrugs, exaggeratedly cocky. “For some of us, it is.”

“Yo! Gossip queens!”

We turn to see Kellan waving from the changing rooms in the corner. “I’m about to get dressed. Prepare yourselves for the thrill of a lifetime.”

I snag another pair of jeans before following Crosbie to the back of the store to see Kellan’s show. He grabs two cheap wooden chairs from a dining room display and arranges them side-by-side, and when we sit down it’s like we’re the only people at a strange discount theater.

“So what have you been up to these past couple of weeks?” he asks, taking one pair of jeans and holding them up to study.