The Art of Losing(71)

“He told me that he had low self-esteem, so I guess he wanted the attention. But he was always doing something stupid, always making an ass of himself, without seeming to care. He seemed like he had plenty of confidence.”

Cassidy fell silent for a moment. “You may not be one to throw stones here, Harley,” she said gently. “You have the same mix of low self-esteem and blinding confidence that Mike had. Except instead of making an ass out of yourself by getting drunk like he did, you just kind of tuck into yourself. You get lost in comics and movies and TV and you ignore the world, telling yourself you don’t need it.”

I knew she didn’t mean that as an insult. But knowing that didn’t make me feel any better about it.

“It’s just that sometimes . . . you can be a little intimidating,” Cassidy added. “You don’t always seem like you need people. And people like to be needed.”

“Maybe that’s why Raf drank again,” I said, almost to myself. “He said it was my fault.”

Cassidy’s eyebrows shot up. “He drank? And blamed you?” she said. “That’s bullshit!”

Her sudden anger somehow lessened mine, as if she took it and held it inside of her, shielding me from it.

“It’s not entirely bullshit though,” I said. “He knows that the only reason I won’t let myself fall for him is because I don’t trust him. And that’s making him feel bad about himself, so he drank. It’s like a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

She thought quietly for a minute and then asked, “Would you rather just try to forget about him?”

The pain in my gut told me what I needed to know. “I don’t think so.”

“You told Will the same thing,” she said. “That we had to choose between not being together and quitting our jobs. So I told Samir that I quit The Flakey Pastry.”

“Wait, so it’s official? You and Will are together?”

She nodded with a dreamy smile on her face.

“That’s the best news!” I said, smiling back, genuinely happy for her, but a piece of me now dreaded going to work the next day. “Oh, man, Samir is going to be so pissed at me.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” she said with a dismissive wave. “The second I said I was leaving, he decided I could stay as long as Will and I are together. But if I dump him, I have to find my own replacement. Same goes for Will.”

“Oh, thank God,” I said. “I was worried I’d gotten my first strike.”

She laughed, but her expression quickly turned serious again. “Harley, I don’t want you to miss out on something that could be great because you’re scared.”

I put my hands over my face. “What if I’m too scared?”

Cassidy tugged one of my hands away until she could see an open eye. Then she scooted down until she was inches away from my face. “You can’t keep hiding, sweetie. You’ve spent all of high school hiding behind Mike. But you have to have a life, too. You have to get out of bed and see people and do things.”

“You sound like my mom,” I mumbled, but she was right. “And before . . . well, Raf was encouraging me to write again. And Dr. Talia, my new shrink, told me to keep a journal.” I was embarrassed to admit that I’d missed writing, that I felt passionate about it. It felt too personal to let people see me want something. Especially when it seemed so easy to fail. Especially since the last thing I’d wanted—Mike—had crushed me. But if anyone understood passion, it was Cassidy, joiner of a hundred after-school clubs.

“Maybe you should try then,” she said softly. “If so many people think it’s a good idea. Maybe even ask Connie if you can join the literary club.”

“Now you’re pushing it,” I said, but I was smiling.

“Don’t make me ask her for you.”

“You’d do that?”

She rested her head on my shoulder. “I’d do anything for you, stupid.”

I went back to sleep after Cassidy went to work, not waking until just before noon. Even though it was Sunday, the house was quiet, and I could tell that Mom and Dad were out. Mom, I assumed, was playing golf or visiting Audrey. Dad was almost certainly at the hospital doing rounds. Those visits to his patients usually took up most of his weekend mornings. So when the garage door opened, sheer curiosity pulled me out of bed. Floyd had barked, so I knew it had to be one of my parents since he paid little to no attention to strangers. He wasn’t a great guard dog.

Dad’s heavy footsteps gave him away before he’d even come through the door, so I was waiting for him when he walked in.

“Hey, kid,” he said, glancing at my pajamas with disdain. “You know it’s officially afternoon, right? You’re burning daylight!”

“Burning it how?” I asked. “Sleeping feels like a perfect way to spend the summer.”

Dad’s happy expression dropped for a second, and I could see the worry in his eyes. “How about lunch?” he said. “I know you won’t turn down a pastrami sandwich for breakfast.” He could tell by my pause that he had me, and his face broke into a smile. “That’s what I thought. Go get dressed.”

Dad drove with the top down on his convertible, and the wind tossed my hair into my face. I could feel my shoulders starting to burn within minutes but didn’t ask him to put the top up. After spending months indoors, I could use the tan. And probably the vitamin D.