Lying Out Loud(49)

“No,” I said. “Well … yes. But not in the way you think. It’s complicated. Amy doesn’t like him. I do.”

“So what’s the problem, then?”

“It’s complicated.”

“As you’ve said. But we have lots of time to hike. Which means lots of time for you to explain.”

God, he was persistent. How the hell did Bianca put up with it?

I ducked under a low-hanging tree branch, both to avoid his eyes and to save myself from getting smacked in the face. “He’s new in Hamilton, and he’s kind of a tool. I thought I hated him, but then I got to know him and he’s not so bad…. He’s kind of great, actually.”

“Doesn’t sound too complicated so far.”

“Well, here’s where it starts, then, because he likes Amy.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Wesley thought about this for a long moment as we wove between the trees, our feet sinking deep into the snow. “Does this guy — this kind of a tool, kind of great guy — know that you like him?”

I shook my head.

“So how do you know that he doesn’t like you?”

“Please excuse me while I have horrifying middle school flashbacks triggered entirely by this conversation.”

He laughed. “Fine. Better question. Why do you like him?”

“He’s …” I smiled a little as a snowflake drifted down and landed on the tip of my nose. “He’s a lot like me. He gets me in a way a guy never has before. And I think I get him, too.”

Wesley grinned. “Wow,” he said. “That’s shockingly sentimental coming from you. I’ve never heard you say something so heartfelt about anyone besides Amy.”

I might have blushed if my face wasn’t moments from becoming an ice cube.

“You should tell him how you feel,” he said. It was so nonchalant. So casual. Like what he was suggesting was the simplest thing in the world.

I had no idea he was so dumb.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“It’s complicated.”

“We’ve already established this.”

I bit my lip.

“From what you’ve said, it sounds like he might feel the same way about you.”

“I’ve barely said anything,” I pointed out. “And, no. He likes Amy. She’s sweet and gorgeous and I’m …”

“You’re what?”

He wasn’t letting me off the hook.

“And I’m … not Amy.”

Wesley stopped and put his gloved hand on my arm, turning me to face him. I had to tilt my head up to meet his eyes.

“Okay,” he said. “Listen to me. First, stop comparing yourself to Amy.”

“There’s no comparison —”

“Stop.” He glared at me, daring me to speak again. I didn’t, and he continued. “You’ve got to stop sizing yourself up. I know it seems like it matters now — I used to think so, too — but it doesn’t. Trust me.”

I rolled my eyes. That was easy for him to say. He was a Rush. He was gorgeous and well liked. And it wasn’t like I thought I was hideous or anything. I just knew that someone who found Amy attractive probably wouldn’t be as interested in me.

“Second,” Wesley said, drawing my attention back. “Are you really going to let this get between you and my sister?”

Guilt twisted my stomach, and I swallowed. “I don’t want it to.”

“Then don’t,” he said. “This guy might be as great as you say, but you two have something special. You’ve been inseparable from the minute you met. Like peanut butter and jelly.”

“Ew.”

“Right. I forget you don’t like peanut butter and jelly … but Amy never forgets. Did you know that when our parents took you two to the beach as kids, Amy would make your sandwiches herself? Dad would always forget and make peanut butter and jelly for everyone. So Amy would make you a different sandwich and pack it herself.”

I looked down at my feet. I didn’t know that, but it didn’t surprise me.

“I don’t know exactly what’s going on with you two,” he admitted. “I don’t know how this guy figures into it. But I do know that both of you will regret it if you don’t fix things.”

“She won’t talk to me,” I said. “How can I fix things if she won’t talk to me?”

“Be patient with her,” he said. “You know Amy. She’s not like you and me. Sometimes it takes her a while to put words to what she’s feeling. She’ll come to you when she’s ready.”

“Yeah,” I said, sighing. “You’re right.”

“I know. I usually am.”

I snorted. “Whatever you say.”

“Come on. Let’s head back to the house. Bianca will kill me if I die of frostbite at her grandfather’s cabin.”

“But you’d already be dead, so …”

“That wouldn’t stop her.”

We got turned around a few times on the way back — in our conversation, both Wesley and I had forgotten to pay attention to where we were going. Just when morbid thoughts of the Donner Party were starting to pop into my head, we spotted the cabin and made our way toward it.