Ten Things We Did (and Probably Shouldn't Have)

by Sarah Mlynowski

LONELY IN CLEVELAND

  The cell rang. Private number.

  “Hello?” I said uncertainly.

  “Hi, April! It’s Penny!”

  “Oh. Penny. Hey.” I had just spilled Donut’s food all over the floor, and was in the process of sweeping it up. “Is everything okay? My dad’s in Chicago, right?”

  “Yes, he’s fine. Everything’s great! I was just thinking of you. Thought I’d call and see how you’re doing.”

  Weird. Penny doesn’t generally call me to see how I’m doing. Or ever. “I’m fine. Thanks. Just . . . cleaning.”

  “That’s great. Good for you.” Silence, of the awkward variety. “So. How’s school?”

  “Same as usual.”

  “And Vi?”

  “Good too.”

  “And the car?”

  “Car’s great. Thanks again.”

  “My pleasure. I told your dad you needed a car. It wasn’t safe for you to be without one.”

  “He told me.” I realized it would be wise for me to go on and talk to her for a while so that she’d give a good report to my dad. I also realized—double weird—that she sounded lonely. So I said, “What are you up to?”

  “I’m trying to settle in. The house is a mess, of course. And it’s freezing here. Colder than Connecticut even. Strange to be back. And I’ve been trying to do some painting, but it’s hard to focus with all the unpacking I still need to do. . . .”

  As she kept talking, I tried to balance the phone against my shoulder with the broom, but ended up spilling more cat food on the floor. At one point she told me she missed me (what she actually said was, “I kind of miss cleaning up after you,” but I went ahead and read between the lines). If she missed me so much, then she shouldn’t have moved to Cleveland and dragged my dad with her.

  PENNY

  After my dad and Penny got engaged, my dad bought another place in Westport. Sorry, my dad and Penny bought another place in Westport. Since we were there every second weekend, Matthew and I each got our own rooms. I took the one next to my dad’s because it was the bigger one. I would have taken Matthew’s, which was on the other side of the stairs, if I’d known that, unlike Matthew, I was going to move in full-time. But anyway.

  Penny bought me a bed with a canopy. She’d always wanted one as a girl, and always wanted to have a girl with a canopy bed. So there you go.

  Penny couldn’t have kids. I knew this because one day in the car, I’d asked them if they were going to have a baby. Penny got all teary. Later, my father explained that Penny had fibroid tumors. She and her ex-husband tried for seven years, but they never got pregnant. They even tried in vitro a few times but it didn’t work.

  You’d think she would have been happier about inheriting a stepdaughter.

  She was probably excited about the idea of me—less so with the reality.

  A fifteen-year-old who you can share makeup with and see every two weeks sounds adorable.

  A fifteen-year-old who gets bombed with her friends two weeks after moving in with you full-time? Less so.

  PASS THE GUAC

  “We need to coordinate,” Vi said during taco prep. “When’s your big night? We have to make sure that it’s not the same as mine. That would be weird.”

  I grated some cheese. “It would?”

  “Hells yeah. We need to each have the house to ourselves.”

  I hardly ever had the house to myself. Vi was home a lot. As was I. We spent a lot of time together. I’ve never actually spent this much time with anyone . . . besides my family. Not even Noah.

  “Definitely,” I said. “So I was kind of thinking . . . Valentine’s Day.”

  “Really?” she asked with a raise of the eyebrow while seasoning the pot of beef.

  “What’s wrong with Valentine’s Day? Too cheesy?” I popped some cheddar in my mouth.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “You say cheesy, I say romantic. And practical. I started taking the pill the third week of January. We wanted to wait a month. That Saturday is Valentine’s Day. It makes sense to do it for the first time on a Saturday night.”

  “Will you cover your duvet in rose petals too?”

  “Oh, shut up,” I said, privately storing the idea away. Rose petals on the duvet could be really cute.

  “Can you make the guac?” Vi asked.

  “Um . . . we make guac? Don’t you just open it?”

  “No, darling. Get an avocado, an onion, and a tomato.”

  I did as I was told. And accidentally dropped a piece of cheese on the floor. Donut gobbled it up. Whoops.

  “Now cut the avocado in half, scoop it, smush it, and add in a diced onion and tomato.”

  Blink. Blink, blink.

  She laughed. “What did you eat before you met me? McDonald’s?”

  “My mom was a fan of the drive-through. Penny cooked, though. Lots of fish. Donut would have loved it.”

  Donut was now standing in front of the oven. “Meow?”

  “You just never helped.”

  “Not so much.”

  She nodded. “No wonder they kicked you out.”

  Ouch. That kind of hurt actually. To hide it, I stuck out my tongue and said, “Not exactly. So when is your big night gonna be?”

  “I’m thinking . . . the night before Valentine’s Day.”

  “Isn’t that just as cheesy?”

  “No. That way when I get to tell the story of how I lost my virginity, I get to say it was on Friday the thirteenth.”

  My phone rang. “Hey, Noah,” I said, laughing. “How was practice?”

  “Tiring,” he said over the static of his cell.

  “I think we made too much,” Vi said. “Tell Noah to come over for dinner.”

  “Vi wants you to come over for dinner. Where are you?”

  “Driving home. Thanks. I’m really tired, though. And my parents are expecting me.”

  “So tell them you’re coming here instead.”

  “Wish I could,” he said.

  I hadn’t realized I’d wanted to see him until he said he couldn’t come. “Can we talk later? We’re just cooking.”

  “Yup.”

  “Love you,” I said.

  “You too.”

  I clicked off the phone and dropped it on the counter.

  “Do you say ‘I love you’ every time you talk on the phone?”

  “Most of the time,” I said.

  “Does it mean good-bye? Or does it mean I love you?” she asked.

  “Both,” I said. Which was true. Most of the time. Although lately I was always the one saying the “I love you,” and he was the one saying the “you too.” What was up with that?

  “Maybe I should invite Dean and Hud over,” she said, stirring the pot.

  “Sure,” I said, still thinking about Noah. “The more the merrier.”

  THE FIRST TIME WE SAID I LOVE YOU

  “What should I do?” I asked Marissa. It was right before sophomore year, the day after I’d come home from France, the day after I’d found out about Corinne and Noah. I was in her room and I couldn’t stop crying.

  “It sucks,” she said. “If I’d been around this summer and seen the two of them together, I would have kicked their asses.”

  “Thanks.” I sighed.

  “But you did tell him he could see other people.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I don’t know.” She shook her head and rubbed my arm. “I think you have to do what feels right. You either have to get over it, or end it.”

  “Break up?” The idea made me feel weak. Empty. Terrified. “What do you think I should do?”

  She bit her lip. “I think it would make me very sad if you broke up. You guys are an amazing couple—the best couple. You’ve been so much happier since you got together.”

  I knew what she meant—in the last nine months, since Noah and I had gotten together, I’d felt afloat. Even when my mom decided to move to Paris, I’d kept the black hole at bay. Noah was my lifesaver, I guess. Noah and
Marissa. “So you think I should forgive him? Pretend nothing happened?”

  “Can you?” she asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  My cell rang. “It’s Noah.”

  “Answer,” she urged.

  “Hi,” I said, picking up.

  “Hi,” he said. “How are you?”

  I rolled into a ball and cradled the phone against my ear. “I’ve been better.”

  “Do you hate me?”

  I laughed. “A little.”

  “Meet me at the park across from my house?”

  “When?”

  “Now?”

  I looked up at Marissa. She nodded. “Go.”

  I ran. It was more of a garden than a park. He was waiting for me on the green bench.

  “Hello, cutie.”

  “Don’t ‘cutie’ me,” I said. “I’m still mad at you.”

  “But your cuteness needs to be expressed. Especially now. Have you decided to forgive me yet? Pretty please?”

  “No. How do I know you’re not going to break up with me to start seeing her?” I asked, sitting beside him.

  “Because it’s over.”

  “But how do I know it’s over?” I wanted tangible proof. A signed document they’d gotten notarized that I could hold in my hand and refer to.

  “Because it is,” he said. “I don’t love her.”

  Everything froze. “And—?” I waited.

  “I love you.”

  You imagine hearing the words from someone not related to you, someone not your best friend, but when someone you love, someone you dream about, actually says them, it makes your body melt and your breath get caught in your chest.

  “You love me?” I asked, leaning toward him.

  He nodded.

  “Say it again,” I said. I let my knee bump against his.

  “I love you,” he repeated.

  Yes, he had hooked up with someone else. One of my classmates. But did it matter? I’d told him he could. And what was I supposed to do now? Break up with him?

  I’d decided to stay in Westport. I’d let my mother and brother move to the other side of the world. If we broke up now, what was I here for?

  “I love you too,” I said, the words soft and smooth in my mouth. I did love him, I realized.

  And we were back together.

  STICKY FINGERS

  “So where did you apply?” I asked Hudson. The four of us were sitting at the dining room table, enjoying Mexican night. We were on our third taco each.

  “Brown,” he said.

  “Wow. When do you hear?”

  “He already heard,” Dean said. “Early decision. Jackass. Trying to make me look bad.”

  “Congrats,” I said. “That’s amazing.” Maybe he wasn’t a drug dealer. Maybe he was some kind of junior executive or entrepreneurial genius. “What about you, Dean?”

  “I applied everywhere. But I’m hoping for UCLA. Or USC. Or anyplace on the West Coast that takes me. Bring me some of them California girls.”

  “Do you know how ridiculous you sound?” Vi asked.

  “They write songs about California girls for a reason,” he countered. Then he blew her a kiss.

  “April, can you pass the guac?” Hudson said. “This is good guac. And I know guac.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “I made it. Plucked the avocados and everything.”

  “Is it me,” Dean said, “or does this feel like a double date?”

  I blushed. It kind of felt like that to me too. Not cool.

  “You wish,” Vi said.

  “You wish,” Dean repeated.

  “I have my sights on someone,” Vi said, helping herself to another taco. “And it isn’t you.”

  Dean put a hand to his heart. “Who?”

  “Liam.”

  Dean narrowed his eyes. “He’s a bozo. A lucky bozo.”

  “Are you guys friends?” Hudson asked.

  “No,” Vi said. “But I’ve been trying to get his attention.”

  “So that’s why you’ve been wearing all those low-cut tops!” Dean exclaimed.

  Vi lowered her head and sighed. “At least someone’s noticing.”

  I took another bite of my taco. “Maybe he’s playing hard to get.”

  “He’s not playing hard to get. He is hard to get. I’ve been following him for weeks and nothing!”

  “Maybe . . . that’s the problem?” Hudson offered. “Some guys don’t like being chased.”

  “Please, Sloane chased you all the way through the school and parking lot,” Vi said, smirking.

  “I didn’t say I didn’t like being chased,” Hudson said. He cocked his head and smiled.

  “What happened with you and Sloane?” I asked. “Did you break up because of the long distance? What school did she go to?”

  “Northwestern,” he said. “But no. We just weren’t right for each other.”

  “Hudson knew she wasn’t the one,” Dean said in a slightly mocking tone.

  “She was only the first,” Vi added slyly.

  Now Hudson blushed. “I realized I didn’t feel the way about her that I was supposed to. I didn’t think it was fair to stay together.”

  “She certainly still feels that way about you,” Dean said. “She tried to molest him over Christmas break.”

  “Dean, come on,” Hudson said.

  “Well, she did. She kept stopping by our house in inappropriate-for-the-weather outfits. But my brother kept turning her down.”

  “Guys do that?” Vi asked. She pulled out a notebook and a pen from who knows where. “The stereotype is that guys will have sex with anyone. False?”

  “True,” Dean said. “Usually.”

  “So why didn’t you?” Vi asked Hudson.

  Hudson looked uncomfortable. “I didn’t want her to think it meant something that it didn’t. And you are not allowed to quote me.”

  “You’ll be anonymous, don’t worry. So you would have had sex if there had been no repercussions.”

  “You mean, would I have had sex if I thought she wouldn’t regret it the next day?”

  “Exactly. If she was also over you but thought one last night together would be fun.”

  He considered. “Then I probably would not have asked her to leave, no.”

  “So it’s not a matter of being in love?” I asked, disappointed.

  “Not yet,” he said, looking at me. “But I hope that next time it will be.”

  “It’s always about love for me,” Dean said.

  “You must fall in love a lot,” I said, laughing.

  “I do,” he said. “I really do. I could fall in love with both of you tonight if you’d like me to.”

  “Pass,” Vi and I said simultaneously.

  “Probably for the best.” Dean waved his taco in the air. “You ladies used enough onions in here to kill a vampire.”

  I laughed and took a long sip of my water. “Vampires are allergic to garlic, not onions,” I explained. “Don’t you watch Vampire Nights?”

  “No,” Hudson said. “Should we?”

  “Helloo!” I squealed. “We may have to watch it right now. I have the DVD of season one. And two. And three.”

  “Marathon! Marathon! Marathon!” Dean cheered, thumping his fists on the table.

  Hudson nodded. “Let’s do it.”

  We each made ourselves another taco, migrated over to the couch, and settled in with our plates on our laps. Donut jumped onto the couch and sat between me and Hudson.

  “You,” Vi said, pointing to Dean. “Do not touch anything. I don’t want salsa stains on every couch cushion.”

  We all chomped happily while the first episode played. Donut nibbled on my leftover cheese.

  “I’m making myself another taco,” Vi said before we started the second episode. “Anyone?”

  “I’ll take one,” Hudson said. “Do you want help?” Donut had cuddled into a ball on his lap.

  “You look kind of trapped,” Vi told him. “I got it. Three tacos comin
g up. Dean, I’m assuming you want one too.”

  Halfway through episode two, my cell rang. Noah. “Hey,” I whispered. “What’s up?”

  “Why are you whispering? Did you move back to your dad’s?”

  “Yeah, right. Hold on.” I hoisted myself up and wandered toward Vi’s bathroom, away from the TV. “Hi,” I said, louder.

  “Are you in bed?” he asked. The clock read 12:06. I hadn’t realized it had gotten so late.

  “No, we’re watching Vampire Nights.”

  “You and Vi?”

  “Yeah,” I said. Guilt flicked through me like a static shot. “And Dean and his brother.”

  “Hudson.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay,” he snipped. “So you’re not going to bed?”

  “Um . . . not this second. Maybe in fifteen?” I didn’t want to call it a night yet. I was having fun. But I couldn’t exactly tell my boyfriend I preferred to stay up watching TV with two other guys.

  As I hung up, Vi walked passed me, looking a bit pale.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “Not feeling great,” she said. “I overdid it on the tacos. Boys!” she called. “It’s time for you to go home.”

  Noah would be happy.

  “We only got through two episodes,” Dean complained. “You two are the worst marathoners ever.”

  “Next time,” I promised. I looked up to see Hudson watching me.

  “Next time,” Hudson repeated.

  Vi attacked the mess in the kitchen. “I’ll load, you clean off the table,” she instructed.

  Guess I wasn’t calling Noah back just yet.

  GOOD-NIGHT KISSES

  Twenty minutes later I was in bed, my cell pressed against my ear. Noah’s phone was ringing. And ringing. And ringing. Donut curled into my stomach.

  “Hello?” he finally answered, voice hoarse.

  “Hi,” I said. “Still up?”

  “Mmm-hmmm,” he said, clearly not.

  “Go back to bed,” I said.

  “’Kay. Love you,” he mumbled.

  The words warmed my whole body, even though I’d heard them a hundred times. I just hadn’t heard them recently. Not from him first. “You too,” I said. “Good night.”

  I hung up the phone and pulled Donut on top of me. “Don’t worry, Donut, I love you too.”

  “Meow,” she responded, clearly reciprocating the emotion.

  Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

  What the hell? I stared up at the ceiling.