Wrong About the Guy(47)

“In that case”—she flung her skirt back in the suitcase—“I’ll be ready to go in two minutes!”


I found Heather and Aaron sitting close together at the kitchen table, watching a movie trailer on her laptop.

“Where’s George?” I asked. I wanted him to know that Grandma was coming with us.

Aaron hit pause and looked up. “He took off. Said he had to get something but he’d be back to work on your mother’s office later. Does he have a key to your house?”

“Everyone has a key to our house,” I said. “Which makes all of the security cameras and stuff kind of pointless. You guys settle on a movie?”

“I let Heather decide,” Aaron said. “I’m a gentleman that way.”

“He is,” she said. “And because he was nice to me, I was nice to him and picked the movie he wanted.”

“He played you like a fiddle,” I said.

“I’m devious.” Aaron stood up. “I’m going to run to your bathroom before we go.”


While he was out of the room, Heather closed her laptop and arched her back in a long stretch, then said, “I feel really good about my essay now, Ellie.” She nodded toward the hallway. “He’s so smart. And sweet.”

“I’ve always thought so.”

“Can I ask you something weird?” I nodded and she lowered her voice. “If you are, it’s totally cool . . . but . . . you’re not interested in him romantically, are you?”

It was funny to hear the question I’d been agonizing over simply asked out loud. And a relief. Because having someone else question how I felt about Aaron brought an immediate answer to my lips that seemed right as soon as the words were out.

“No,” I said. “He’s just a friend.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Totally.” I was. I was totally sure. I loved him, but deep down I knew there wasn’t even a shred of sexual attraction or romance in that love. And here was Heather, asking about him. I felt a smile creep over my face. “Why? Do you like him?”

She ducked her head, blushing, and barely whispered, “I think, maybe, yeah. He’s really nice.”

“He is.” I considered her for a moment, and it was like light dawning. I clasped my hands. “Heather, this is brilliant. You two are perfect for each other.”

“You really think so?”

“I can’t believe I didn’t realize it sooner.”

“You don’t think he’s too . . .” She groped for the right word. “Too sophisticated for me?”

“Why do you always sell yourself short? You’re plenty sophisticated. You’re also the sweetest, best girl in the world. He’d be lucky to get to be with you.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re my friend.”

“It’s true.”

“So what do I do now?”

“I could say something to him—”

“Oh God, no! That’s so middle school! I want to seem older, not younger.”

“Okay. But you should reach out to him somehow—let him know you’re interested.”

“Right,” she said. “I’ll try. I’m just not—shhhh.” Aaron was coming back into the room. I grinned at her and she blushed.

“What’d I interrupt?” he asked, looking back and forth between us.

“Secrets,” I said.

“Girl talk? Can I join in?”

“No,” Heather and I said at the same time, just as my grandmother entered. She had made herself fancy: a bit of her hair was pinned against her temple with a big fake flower and she’d traded her black elastic-waist pants for a long black elastic-waist skirt.

“I’m ready,” she sang out.

Aaron gaped at me.

“Grandma’s coming with us,” I said, and hooked my arm through hers, avoiding Aaron’s accusing glare. “Let’s go.”





twenty-two


I did my best to encourage things between Heather and Aaron that night. The more I thought about it, the more I was convinced they would be a perfect couple, the one so domineering, the other so compliant. I made sure they sat next to each other at the movies and shared their own bag of popcorn. I shared with Grandma, popcorn being one of the few junk foods she approved of. (It’s high in fiber, you know, Ellie. So long as you don’t put that fake butter on it, it’s really not bad for you.)

Now that I knew Heather liked Aaron, I could see the signs of it—nothing major, but they were there. Like the way she talked to me more than to him—of course Heather would be all shy and self-conscious around a guy she liked! And she didn’t scarf down popcorn the way she normally did; she only nibbled a few pieces at a time. A classic case of shrunken love stomach.

I wasn’t sure Aaron was getting the message, though: it was all pretty subtle. She was smiley and responsive to anything he said directly to her, but in pretty much the same way she was smiley and responsive to anything I said to her. I worried that Heather just didn’t know how to send out vibes that were more flirtatious than friendly.

I wished I hadn’t promised not to say anything to him. I felt like just a few careful words might have made him see her in a whole new light. Plus it might make things clearer between him and me. A simple Hey, maybe you and my friend should go out seemed like an effective way to get across the message that I wasn’t interested in him for myself but had nothing against him.