Lying Out Loud(57)

“So do you,” I said. “Only I do it to be cute and funny. You do it because you’re a prep-school snob.”

“I know that you named your car because you love it, even though it’s a piece of junk,” he continued. “I know that your real name is Sonya.”

“What? Who told you? I’ll kill them.”


He laughed. “I know that you’re smart. And witty. And incredible.”

Incredible.

It wasn’t the first time he’d used that word to describe me. Before Christmas, he’d called the person behind the IMs and texts “incredible.” He thought it was Amy, sure, but those were my words. I was the one he thought was incredible.

“Well, um … did you know I’m also a serial killer?”

“Why do you do that?” he asked.

“What?”

“Anytime things get serious or sentimental, you deflect with humor,” he said. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I guess because I’m nervous.”

He smirked. “I make you nervous?”

And, despite my better judgment, I told the truth.

“Very.”

There was a flicker of recognition in his eyes, and I suddenly remembered that text message conversation back in November, where we’d admitted to making each other nervous. For a second, I thought he might figure it out. Might realize that it had been me all along.

I held my breath, not sure if I wanted him to figure it out or not.

But the moment passed as quickly as it had come. He gave my hand a little tug, and I fell into his lap. And then, even though I’d tried to avoid it — sort of — we were making out again.

I still hadn’t gotten the hang of this whole kissing thing. I wasn’t always sure what to do with my hands or which way to tilt my head. We bumped noses more than once, but Ryder just laughed, like my clumsy kissing skills were more adorable than annoying.

With his hands in my hair and his tongue sliding into my mouth, I made a decision.

I wasn’t going to tell him the truth.

He liked me. He was totally over Amy, and he wanted to be with me. He thought I was incredible.

Part of me still wanted to compare myself to Amy. How could Ryder go from wanting someone as beautiful as her to someone like me? She was gorgeous and rich, and I was … average. And definitely not rich.

But that wasn’t how he looked at me. Or how he treated me.

Maybe Wesley was right. Maybe comparing myself was a waste of time, and Ryder saw me as more than just the moderately attractive, somewhat obnoxious best friend.

My plan — though it had taken months — had worked.

This was what I’d wanted. What I’d been hoping for all along.

I wasn’t going to tell him.

He didn’t need to know.

After a while, the necessity of breathing drove us apart. But only long enough for Ryder to ask:

“I was wondering: Do you want to go out this weekend? On a real date?”

“Maybe,” I said, my nose touching his. “What were you thinking?”

“Dinner and a movie?”

“Sounds fun,” I said. “Oh, actually, there’s this new romantic comedy that just opened. I think Rachel McAdams is in it.”

Ryder wrinkled his nose. “Ugh.”

“You don’t like Rachel McAdams?” I asked, appalled. “What’s wrong with you?”

“It’s not her,” he said. “I just … don’t really like mainstream Hollywood films. I was thinking that we could go see that new Korean film that just opened at Cindependent.”

“Oh my God,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Everything you just said is so wrong.”

But that didn’t stop me from kissing him again.





“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Ryder lately,” Amy said. She was sitting on her bed, watching as I applied a little bit of lipstick in the vanity mirror. “Where are you guys going tonight?”

“A movie,” I said.

It was the next Saturday, a week since our first kiss, and it had been one of the most blissful weeks of my life. Suddenly, I was glad to be unemployed. We’d spent almost every afternoon together — sometimes doing homework at the library, sometimes making out in his bedroom — doing whatever we felt like that day. We were always either laughing or arguing, which usually led to laughing.

Yes, my life, for once, was awesome.

Even if he had won the movie debate.

“It’s a Korean film,” I told Amy as I put the cap back on the lipstick — a lipstick I’d stolen from her, actually. “And you know how I feel about subtitles. Ugh. I’m sort of hoping we can be normal and just make out in the back of the theater. Knowing Ryder, though, he’ll likely think that’s far too pedestrian.”

I laughed and turned to face her, but Amy only gave a small smile.

“What about you?” I asked. “What are you doing tonight?”

“I’m not sure,” she said. “Probably finishing up a few college applications.”

“You party animal,” I teased.

She laughed. “Well, I’m almost done. I’ve already mailed off my applications for Brown, Cornell, and Dartmouth. I’m hoping to get the others in the mail by Monday. What about you?”