“I’m not drunk.”
She narrows her eyes at him.
“Look,” he says, pulling up onto his feet. “Want me to walk in a straight line?”
He walks in a straight line, directly toward me.
“See. Perfectly sober.” And then he slides down the wall next to me. Right beside me—one entire side of his body is pressed against mine. And Reid’s on my other side. Honestly, it’s kind of thrilling, being sandwiched between two boys. Even though I don’t like Will. Not like I like Reid.
Will asks if Cassie can turn on some music, and then he leans in to ask me what I want to listen to. It feels like a test.
“Florence and the Machine,” I say uncertainly.
“Ah.” He nods, and it’s impossible to read his expression. This is a little overwhelming. Cassie puts on the Florence + the Machine album, and then everyone starts talking about sex again.
“Okay. I have a theory,” Reid says, leaning toward me.
“A theory.”
“Yes.” He pauses, and lowers his voice to a whisper. “I think they’re all virgins. I think everyone is full of it.”
I turn to smile at him. “Oh, really?”
He nods emphatically. “It’s a huge conspiracy. I think everyone insinuates they’re having sex, but really they’re just at home on the internet.”
“Telling all their internet friends how much sex they’re having,” I add.
“Exactly.” He smiles.
“Okay, but how do we explain pregnancy?”
“Immaculate conceptions.”
“Hey.” Will nudges me. “What are you whispering about?” And then he gently grabs my wrist and cradles it in the palm of his hand. He seems strangely intrigued by the texture of my friendship bracelets, tracing his fingertips along their knots and ridges. I feel suddenly short of breath.
“Who are these from?” Will asks.
“My cousin.” I swallow. “Abby. She’s my best friend.”
“Let me guess. She has matching ones.”
“Maybe. Definitely.”
I feel Reid watching me, watching Will, and I almost think he might be jealous. I mean, I could be imagining it. But I just have that feeling. And it’s not a bad feeling.
I am definitely, definitely a shitty person.
Later, when we settle into our sleeping bags, I’m in between Reid and Will again. And Will scoots up extra close beside me—so close that I don’t know how I’ll get up to go to the bathroom without jostling him. That thought alone makes me have to pee, urgently, but I don’t want to move.
I’m lying next to Hipster Will.
And Reid.
I don’t think my heart wants to stay in my chest.
I wake to the sound of rustling fabric—Will rolling over. Though he’s still passed out and snoring softly, his lips slightly parted, and Max is curled up in a ball next to him. Cassie and Mina are tangled up in blankets on the top bunk.
But the bottom bunk is crisply made. I guess Olivia’s up. And Reid’s sleeping bag is empty, too.
I have this sudden jolt of fear, but I try to shake it off.
I slip out of my sleeping bag and stop by the bathroom—and then I walk quietly past Xavier’s room and down the stairs. The living room light is on, but only dimly. When I look through the doorway, I see two heads of rumpled hair over the back of the couch. Sitting very close.
“Hi.” I step into the room. My brain is buzzing.
“Oh, hi!” Reid says. And I could be imagining this, but I swear he looks startled. Maybe even guilty.
Olivia smiles up at me. And she’s practically tucked into him.
I feel numb.
“Have you guys been up for long?” I ask slowly. I perch on the armrest of the couch.
“Maybe an hour?” Reid says. “We’ve just been hanging out.”
I’m trying not to stare at them. I’m trying. But I have to take inventory. Olivia’s under a blanket, and I can’t see her hands. I can’t see his either.
Numb. Or maybe the opposite of numb.
They’re holding hands under the blanket. I’m almost sure they are. Which is bullshit and extremely uncool. Not that I care who Reid likes. I should not fucking care. And I don’t. I don’t care.
Except, then Olivia stretches, her hands clasped together, and I almost sigh with relief.
They’re not holding hands.
That’s good.
I need to catch my breath.
“I was just telling Reid about the different types of lenses,” Olivia says.
“Yes. Apparently there are lenses. And you can pop them off the camera.”
“Apparently, cameras exist outside of iPhones.” Olivia grins.
Reid’s dimple flickers. “So you claim.”
I can’t stay here. I can’t watch this.
“I should get dressed,” I say.
Imagine if getting dressed took five hours. Because that’s how long I spend in my bedroom. If I could stay in there forever, I would.
But eventually, Patty appears in the doorway. “Do you have a minute?”
I’m in bed. And I do not have a minute. Today’s schedule is devoted entirely to Facebook—Reid Wertheim became friends with Olivia Lambert—and checking my phone for missed texts. Of which there are none. Of fucking course.
But I shrug. And when Patty pushes my door all the way open, I see that Nadine and Cassie are behind her.
“Family meeting,” Nadine announces. “Mind if we sit?”
I shake my head. “Where’s Xav?”
“Mina’s watching him.” She scoots onto the foot of my bed, and Patty takes the chair. Cassie slides in next to me and hugs my pillow to her chest.
“So yeah,” Nadine says. “I’m just going to come out and ask you guys. Was there alcohol last night?”
I feel Cassie stiffen beside me. I don’t say a word.
Nadine purses her lips. “Let’s start with this. Want to explain why Will was puking in our bathroom at four in the morning?”
“He was puking?” asks Cassie.
“Oh yes.”
Cassie shoots me a look. Did you know?
I did not.
A perfect telepathic conversation.
“I had no idea,” Cassie says.
“I’m not asking if you knew. I’m asking if you know why.”
Cassie hugs the pillow tighter and nods. I should deny it. I should point out that I actually just had plain orange juice. This time, anyway.
“I don’t think we have to tell you this is unacceptable.” Patty shakes her head. “We give you girls a lot of leeway.”
“We trusted you,” Nadine interjects.
“I’m sorry,” Cassie says quietly. “This is my fault.”
And maybe this is unfair, but I don’t contest it. Because, yeah. It actually is her fault. She’s the one who invited everyone over. She’s the reason we’re probably about to get grounded forever. And she’s also the reason Olivia and Reid are sending flirty Facebook messages right this minute. Probably. Undoubtedly.
I’m not going to cry.
“Molly, we need to hear from you, too,” Patty says.
“What do you want me to say?” I feel my eyes prickling, and I shake my head fast. “If you’re going to ground us, just ground us.”
“Excuse me?” Nadine says.
“Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. You want my phone? Here.” My voice cracks. “I don’t care.”
“You know what? No. That’s not how we’re doing this. You want to drink like an adult? Fine. Then you’re going to sit here and discuss it like an adult.”
“Yeah. I’m sitting here.” I fold my arms.
“Molly,” Cassie whispers. I turn away abruptly.
Patty scoots the chair closer. “Molly, what’s going on? Talk to us.”
My thoughts are racing. I can’t seem to catch hold of them.
“I guess I don’t get why this is such a big fucking deal?” I trip a little over the curse word. “We’
ll be in college in a year. We’re turning eighteen in five months.”
“Which means you get to drink and sneak around?” Nadine’s voice is quiet, but it thunders. “I don’t think so.”
“Why does it matter?” I whip back. “Why does any of this matter?”
It’s like an anvil falling. Everyone stops. Everyone looks at me.
“Uh-uh. What has gotten into you?” Nadine stands.
But I’m too far gone to stop. “Into me? Literally nothing. Nothing’s gotten into me. Nothing happens to me. So maybe you should talk to Cassie. Maybe you should ask her what an orgasm feels like.”
Cassie gapes at me. “Are you kidding me?”
“Molly, that’s not okay—” Nadine starts to say, but I cut her off.
“Whatever. I’m done.” I stand abruptly, pushing past her, out the door, and down the stairs.
Mina steps out of the kitchen, holding Xavier’s hands up while he wanders. “Oh hey,” she says.
I barely return her hello. I don’t even stop to hug Xav. I slip out the door, and I don’t care that it’s drizzling, and I don’t care that I’m in pajamas. I curl up on the steps and take out my phone. I call Abby.
She answers on the first ring. “So funny—I was just talking about you!”
My heart sinks. If she was just talking about me, she’s not alone. Which means I’m about to lose my shit in front of Nick or Simon or one of Abby’s millions of other new best friends. Perfect.
“Molly?” she says.
“Hi.” It comes out like a choke.
“Are you okay? Molly, what happened? Wait, hold on. Let me just . . .” I picture her gesturing to Nick, maybe smiling apologetically. “Okay, I’m heading upstairs. What’s going on?”
I really want to tell her about Reid liking Olivia, but I can’t. Which is ridiculous. I mean, it’s Abby. She’s not going to make fun of me. Except she might. I don’t know. Maybe Cassie told her about Reid. Maybe she told her what Mina said. That sex with Reid is unfathomable. Which means sex with me is probably unfathomable, too. Because nerd sex is a joke. Fat on fat. Dweeb on dweeb. Womp womp womp. And no one seems to see how cute Reid is, except me.
And fucking Olivia.
Reid fucking Olivia.
I seriously want to scream.
“Molly, talk to me. Are you okay?” she asks again.
“I’m okay.”
“No you’re not. What’s going on?”
I need to breathe. I need my lungs to get it together.
“I’m just . . .” Deep breath. “Cassie’s really mad at me. And so are my moms.”
“Okay.” There’s a smile in her voice. “That’s it?”
“It’s not funny.”
“No—oh, Molly. I’m not laughing at you. I’m just—do you know how often Isaac is mad at me? Or my parents? Seriously, my dad is mad at me literally every day. That’s how parents are.”
“Not my parents.”
“That’s because you never screw up.”
“Are you kidding me?”
She laughs. “Well, what happened?”
So I tell her. And, honestly, talking about it makes me feel calmer. I guess the situation is a tiny bit hilarious. I mean, I actually left Cassie there to explain how orgasms feel. To our mothers.
“So Hipster Will blew it for you guys, huh?”
“He totally blew it.”
Abby giggles. “He’s so not getting the Molly makeouts now.”
“Never.”
As if the Molly makeouts are such a hot commodity. As if guys are lining up at my door. I actually hate that expression. Grandma says it sometimes. Like, that’s supposed to be the goal: to have a whole line of guys desperate to date you or have sex with you or whatever the endgame is. Like, I should want to collect boys like Pokémon.
I don’t want that. I don’t want to break hearts. I just want Reid.
It’s scary to even think that.
I want Reid. And maybe I’m crazy, but I was sure he liked me, too. The way he looked at me in that rainstorm. The way he sits a little closer these days. The way he looked at me when I was talking to Will.
I was so sure.
I was so not careful.
And now I know what rejection feels like. It’s a whirlpool of suck.
“HEY! YOU’RE NOT GROUNDED,” REID says when I walk into work.
“Not yet. I don’t know.” I settle down next to him on the floor of the baby section. There are baby shoes everywhere. “What happened here?”
“Toddler rampage.”
“Uh-oh.”
“This place is literally birth control,” he says.
I smile faintly, settling in beside him to stack a few shoe boxes.
“Seriously,” he says, after a moment. “Is everything okay? Mina told Olivia you seemed upset.”
“You talked to Olivia?”
“She texted me.”
My stomach drops. “Right.”
There are approximately fifty billion things I want to ask him right now, like: When did you and Olivia exchange numbers? Do you like her? And especially this: Do you like her better than me?
“Hey, guys.” I look up, and it’s Deborah. “Is my muscle team available? We just sold the barnwood bookcase.” She pumps her fist.
“We’re on it.” Reid jumps up and extends his hand to me.
I take it.
He squeezes my hand softly before letting go. And Olivia doesn’t exist right now.
Until I see her by the checkout, her blue-streaked hair perfectly tousled. She’s wearing a T-shirt and jeans, and carrying what looks like a camera case.
“You bought a bookcase?” I ask.
She laughs. “Uh, no. I’m looking for a picture frame. And saying hi.”
“Hi,” Reid says, smiling.
“The woman’s just pulling her car around.” Deborah rests her hand for a moment on Reid’s shoulder.
We carry the bookcase in silence, and I sense Reid looking at me quizzically. But I don’t want to speak. I don’t trust my voice right now. I can’t believe Olivia’s here. She’s here. And I don’t think it’s because of me.
“Did you find your frame?” Reid asks her when we step back inside.
“I did! What do you think?”
Of course she picked my favorite frame in the entire store. I mean, she’s Olivia. It’s wood, painted pale blue, with clusters of tiny hand-painted flowers.
“It’s for your moms,” she says. “Did you hear I’m taking pictures at the wedding? Actually, I’m heading over there in a sec to take some test shots. I’ve got my Canon.” She pats the case at her hip.
“Your cannon?” Reid asks. He pantomimes an explosion.
“My camera.”
“Oh, right,” he says. “So, hey, I was just thinking. My friend Douglas is kind of a techie, and he’s starting to get interested in cameras and photography. I was wondering if maybe you could talk to him?”
OKAY, IS FUCKING EVERYONE INTO PHOTOGRAPHY THESE DAYS?
“Totally,” Olivia says.
“Actually, Will also does photography, and Mina’s learning, too.” I smile tightly. “So Douglas has a lot of options.”
“Oh, cool,” Reid says. “But if you’re up for it, Olivia, maybe the four of us could find a time to get together or something.” He glances at me. “I think Molly suspects Douglas doesn’t actually exist.”
“That is true.” I can’t help but smile a little.
“Well, I’m definitely up for it.”
“Oh, great! Let me text him.” He looks up at Olivia. “And hey, my shift’s ending in a minute. Do you want me to walk you to Molly’s house?”
“Aww, that would be great.”
Oh my fucking goodness. So, this is happening. Right before my eyes.
I mean, that’s how it’s going to be. It’s that easy for Olivia. Maybe this is what life is like for most girls.
I should smile. I should act normal. I should melt into the floor and disappear.
I pul
l out my phone as soon as they leave. I never did write back to Will’s dancing bee ladies. I’ve never even considered texting him. But I will literally-not-literally-almost-literally explode if I have to sit around tonight imagining Reid with Olivia.
Kissing. Holding hands. Making out. Discovering orgasms.
What are you up to? I write, and then immediately delete it. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to make this not sound like a booty call.
I swear this isn’t a booty call.
Hey, Will? It’s Molly. I tap send.
Here’s what I know: I shouldn’t wait for a response. I should close the app, lock my phone, bury it in the zipper pouch of my bag, forget about it forever. I think messages from boys are like Santa Claus or Buzz Lightyear. They won’t happen if you’re watching them. But I can’t help but watch. I have such perfect laser focus, you’d almost expect the screen to crack.
A moment later, the screen refreshes, and a new message appears. A tiny miracle. Right as I’m staring at my in-box.
Oh hey what’s up?
A million competing thoughts: He wrote back. Right away. And he asked what was up. Like he’s wondering what I’m up to. But not in a booty call way. Or maybe this is a booty call. Maybe this is exactly how booty calls work.
At work, but—I take a deep breath—I was wondering what you’re up to later?
Three dots.
But then the dots disappear. I think he’s ignoring my question.
Oh God.
But. This is fine. Mortifying. But fine. I’m breathing. I’m okay.
God, he’s probably sitting with Max right now. No question. And Max is reading over Will’s shoulder and laughing and giving Will shit about the fact that I’m obsessed with him. Like, I’m 100 percent positive Will thinks I’m obsessed with him. And now he’s so freaked out, he doesn’t know how to respond.
Except.
Three dots.
Not much, want to hang out? When do you get off?
Oh.
Oh shit.
My brain goes foggy. Sure! Off at 4:30
That works, he writes. Want to meet at the takoma metro? I have an idea . . . And then he throws down the big cheesy smiley emoji.
Whoa.
What’s your idea? I write.
Wouldn’t you like to know, see you soon! he replies.
Will’s wearing a bow tie. I know that’s absurd. Even more absurd is the fact that he’s really cute in a bow tie.
The Upside of Unrequited Page 17