Look Both Ways(25)

“Really? You never did it with Jason?”

I shrug. “We did pretty much everything else, but I didn’t like him enough for that. I’m certainly not, like, waiting for marriage or anything, but I at least want to be in love.” I can tell my face is bright red, and I look down at my lap. “Is that weird?”

“No,” Zoe says. “Of course not.”

“How about you? Have you and Carlos…”

“Oh, yeah. Definitely love.” The way she says it, kind of throaty and knowing, makes me feel like she’s much older than me.

“My mom’s horrified I’ve never done it,” I say.

“She wants you to have sex? My mom would be horrified if she knew I had.”

“My mom is super-open about that stuff. Like, too much sometimes. I mean, it’s cool that we can talk about it, but I don’t need to know exactly what she did on the roof of the theater building in college, you know?”

Zoe laughs and says, “Eew,” and I feel like we’re the same age again.

Livvy knocks on our door and pops her head in. “Hey,” she says, “a bunch of us are going to watch Mean Girls. You guys want to come?”



Even though Livvy can’t possibly know she’s intruding, shattering our fragile, intimate little cocoon, I’m furious with her for a second. I brace for the impact of Zoe saying yes and ending our conversation, but instead she says, “Go ahead and start without us. We’re kind of in the middle of something.”

I look down and pretend to adjust my sandal so she won’t see how big my smile is.

Zoe and I play Love or Hate for what feels like hours. I learn that she loves the Muppets, paella, snow, The Wizard of Oz, and George Clooney, and that she hates high heels, jogging, juice cleanses, rompers, and the word “punctual.” The game grows steadily more personal, and Zoe confesses that she loves chivalry even though it’s outdated, and hates when directors correct the way she’s delivering a line, regardless of whether they’re right. I wish I could take notes on all the things I’m discovering about her.

When sitting on the floor starts getting uncomfortable, we sprawl on our beds and keep going. We never make it to Livvy’s room. I’ve known Zoe only a few days, but in a lot of ways, I already feel closer to her than to anyone I know back home. There are plenty of people I’m friendly with, but we never have long, charged conversations like this, ones that actually mean something. Even after knowing me for years, those girls don’t understand the things about me that Zoe inherently gets.

Around one in the morning, I ask Zoe’s opinion on the concept of love at first sight, and when she doesn’t answer, I realize she has fallen asleep. I’m disappointed, but I love that she wanted to talk to me up until the very last moment that she could stay conscious. It reminds me of the times Jason and I used to fall asleep on the phone, doing that stupid “You hang up first. No, you hang up first” thing just to continue hearing the sound of each other’s voices.



I turn off our lamps and match my breathing to Zoe’s in the dark, feeling for the first time like I’m in the right place after all.





I’m exhausted when my alarm goes off at seven-thirty, but I still feel bubbly with happiness from last night’s conversation. It’s possible Zoe was being nice only because she knew I was upset, but she certainly seemed to enjoy our talk as much as I did. If the two of us are going to be good friends, maybe my summer at Allerdale will actually be worth something.

Zoe’s rehearsal doesn’t start until ten today, and I get ready as quietly as I can so I won’t disturb her. I’m in such a good mood that I want to make other people happy, too, so half an hour before my crew call, I head to Kayla’s Cakes in town and buy doughnuts for the lighting crew. The decor inside the shop kind of creeps me out—there are mounted taxidermy animals all over the walls and counters. But I’m sure the doughnuts will still taste good, and this gesture might finally earn me some respect from the tech people.

When I get to the theater, most of the crew is already there, quietly smoking and sipping their coffee. But the second I put my pink pastry box down on the loading dock, everyone starts wolf-whistling and whooping. Douchebands pats me on the back. “Nicely done, new girl. Doughnuts the first week! I didn’t think you had it in you.”



I move away from him with the excuse of undoing the tape on the box; I want the crew to be friendly, but not that kind of friendly. “I mean, why wait when doughnuts are involved?” I answer.

“That’s what I always say.” Douchebands takes a chocolate one and crams it into his mouth.

Courtney reaches into the box and selects a coconut doughnut. “Congratulations,” she says, which doesn’t really make any sense, but at least she doesn’t sound like she wants to kill me.

“Enjoy,” I say.

“Oh, I will.”

Solomon shows up and makes a beeline for the doughnuts. “You again?” she asks Douchebands.

He shakes his head. “Not today.”

“Who brought these?”

“I did,” I say, and I give her a big smile.

“Loud and proud,” says a guy with dreadlocks. “Nice.”

“Knock it off, Lamar.” Solomon turns to me. “I respect a girl who learns the rules quickly. Thanks for the doughnuts.”