The Pretty One(72)

My sister’s brow is furrowed and I can tell she’s feeling something unpleasant. But what? Guilt? Remorse?

“Look,” she says. “I’m sorry about the other night. I just, well, things are weird this year, you know?”

It’s good to hear Lucy apologize, but when she doesn’t tell me that I don’t have to give up Drew, my heart feels almost hollow.

“So what are you and Simon doing this weekend?” she asks.

“We’re going to go see the new movie about the space invaders on Saturday. Maybe get some coffee afterward.”

“You should wear my yellow BCBG top,” Lucy says with a smile. “It looks so awesome on you. Or maybe my pink Michael Kors instead. Let’s go try them on and see which one looks better.”

My sister stands and extends her hand to me. I accept her hand and tuck the package of Oreos under my arm, hoping that somehow Lucy will do something unscripted.



On Saturday night, Simon picks me up for our official date looking like he’s going to his mother’s country club. He’s wearing ironed khakis and a starched button-down shirt topped by a blue blazer with gold buttons. I know he dressed up for me, and although on some level I’m sure a little part of me appreciates the effort, the majority of me just finds it annoying. I have not dressed up for him. In spite of my sister’s protests, I’m not wearing any makeup and my slightly dirty hair is pulled back in a ponytail. I’m wearing my loose-fitting jeans and one of my old hoodies. Why bother dressing up? I’m more comfortable this way, and since Simon likes me for who I am on the inside, I figure he couldn’t care less what I looked like. Right? Obviously, I’m still a little frustrated that he and I are in this situation in the first place. I really wish he never gave me an ultimatum. I know that Simon knows me a lot better than Drew, but if he really loved me, would he/could he have walked away from more than two years of best friendship?

But, as I kept reminding myself all week, he hadn’t actually done anything. He had just threatened it. I have to believe that if push came to shove, he would’ve been happy with whatever level of friendship I offered.

At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

Due to the fact that I fell off the Lucy diet this past week and consumed more calories than I would’ve thought humanly possible, I have pledged to drink only Diet Pepsi for the next two days. But as we walk into the movies Simon asks me if I want anything to eat and I order a box of Dots and a small popcorn with butter. (Simon insists on paying even though he bought our tickets.)

As we take our seats I glance at his hand perched on our communal armrest and wonder if he will try to hold my hand. I hold the Dots in one hand while using the other to shovel popcorn in my mouth just in case. After the movie, we climb back into his Honda Civic and he drives us back to Federal Hill. We stop at Spoons and Simon orders a black tea and I order an iced mocha cappuccino and a chocolate chip cookie. And even though I manage to whip out a ten-dollar bill, Simon beats me to the punch, handing the cashier a crisp twenty. We take seats across from each other and I keep my hands in my lap as I bend over and suck my drink out of the straw.

“It’s nice,” he says, finally. “Being out with you like this.”

I think about how weird it is that only a week ago I was with Drew and he was kissing me. “Me too,” I say, reaching into my purse for a tissue. And then I realize what I just said doesn’t make any sense. I don’t bother to correct myself. Instead, I blow my nose and take another sip of my drink.

“You look great,” he says.

I catch sight of my reflection in the café window. I definitely look a lot better than I did last year at this time, but I couldn’t look much worse if I tried. Which, of course, I had. “Thanks,” I reply stiffly.

We stare at each other in silence.

“Do you want something else to eat?” Simon is trying to be a gentleman here but I keep imagining myself with Drew.

This just isn’t fair. To either of us.

I wipe my nose again. “I don’t think so. I’ve been eating nonstop all day.” Then I finish off my cookie and order a brownie with icing.

When I’m done making a pig of myself, Simon takes me home. As he drives, I study his profile, paying close attention to his aquiline nose, his curly brown hair, and his lopsided grin. He isn’t bad-looking. And he’s sweet, funny, and smart. So why can’t I stop thinking about Drew?

Simon parks in front of our house and hurries to get my door for me. “I had a great time tonight,” he says, as he walks me up the steps of our row house.

I can see him hesitate and I know he’s working up the nerve to do something. As tempted as I am to escape inside and lock the door behind me, I keep my feet firmly planted. I can do this. This is Simon. And I adore him.

Simon sweeps his hand around me, pulling me in to him and giving me a big, long, and passionate kiss.

Wow. I knew Simon had learned a little more than how to play the clarinet at band camp, but I didn’t know he could do that. But despite the expertise of his kiss, the electricity I felt with Drew isn’t here. Not even close.

Simon slowly backs away. When I open my eyes, I see him grinning. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he says happily before shuffling down the sidewalk.

As I creep into the house, I hear a noise coming from the kitchen. I know it’s Mom, because Lucy is at a party tonight. But when I enter the kitchen, I see that I’m wrong.