“You’re so weird.”
“You’re so perfect.”
So each week we get closer to … something. I can feel it, like a tide dragging me out to sea.
On opening night, I pull you into a dark corner backstage. It’s the middle of April and rainy, the thunder outside loud and insistent. My Gram always says that’s God bowling. Everyone’s worried people won’t come because of the weather and I’ve spent half the afternoon reassuring nervous actors. But now I need some reassurance.
“What’s the real reason?” I say, apropos of nothing.
You furrow your brow. “The real reason?”
“That we aren’t together.”
You smooth your Billy Flynn tie and look behind you, toward the stage. No one’s around. You set your palms against the wall behind me, boxing me in. Classic sexy move.
“Grace, believe me when I say that there is nothing I want more than you.”
We’re so close your lips are almost touching mine.
“So why?”
“I’m trying to save you from me.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
You look away. “If you saw … if you saw the real me, you might not want—”
I rest my fingers against your lips. “Shut up,” I whisper.
There’s a small cough behind us, but instead of jumping away from me, you press your lips against my fingers before turning around.
“What’s up, Nat?” you say.
She looks past you, toward me, apologetic.
“Sorry to … uh … interrupt. Miss B is looking for you—they can’t find Roxie’s last costume.”
I nod and move away from you. “Okay.”
It’s too dark for her to see my blush, to see the pride in my eyes. Believe me when I say that there is nothing I want more than you.
She and Lys ambush me after the show, yanking me into the prop room. We’re surrounded by shelves of theater junk—revolvers, candlesticks, knives, a rubber chicken. Like we’re about to start an epic game of Clue. I open my mouth, but Nat puts a hand up like, Stop right there.
“Okay, were you guys, like, making out back there?” Nat asks.
“No! We haven’t kissed, I swear. I would tell you guys.”
“What the hell is he waiting for?” Lys asks. She sets down her massive purse and pulls a feather boa out of it, throwing it dramatically around her neck.
“It’s complicated,” I say. “Because of … you know. His parents want him to stay single until after graduation.”
Nat frowns. “Is he still … suicidal?”
“God, no. He’s doing great,” I say. At least, I hope so. You say being with me is like taking a happy pill.
Nat and Lys exchange a look.
“What?” I say.
“You know we are very pro you-and-Gavin, but we’ve been talking and we thought you should maybe think about how, like … he’s, like, really … intense,” Nat says. “Are you sure you’re up for that?”
“We don’t want to see you get hurt,” Lys adds. “Summer’s still fucked-up about it all.”
“I live for intense,” I say. “I want someone who will write me songs and who’s arty—like bohemian—and who gets me, you know? Someone in our world.”
Lys chews on her lip. “What if he does it to you, too?”
“Tries to kill himself?” I ask, my stomach turning.
She nods.
“He won’t,” I say.
We tell each other so much, but you still haven’t gotten into that day. I’m afraid to ask. I don’t know if it’s Pandora’s Box—maybe we should just leave well enough alone. You’re okay now. You’ve moved on, gotten over … whatever made you do that. Right?
Nat looks like she’s going to say more but then Kyle throws open the door wearing a Jason mask he found in one of the dressing rooms and we all screech.
He pulls it off, grinning. “Evening, ladies.”
“You bastard,” I hear you say somewhere outside the prop room, but you’re laughing along with the guys.
Miss B herds us all into the parking lot and I jump into Nat’s car since you’re riding with Peter and Kyle. I give you a wave, but you’re looking down at your phone and don’t see. A second later my phone pings.
The real reason is that I don’t deserve you.
My heart does that zapped thing it does whenever you say or do something so perfectly perfect. I respond right away.
That’s a stupid reason and you know it.
I’m going to college next year.
Okay, but that’s six months away.
My parents won’t let me be in a relationship.
So lie to them. It seems to work for all the other lovers in the world.
Romeo and Juliet—not so much.
They’re a cautionary tale. I promise I won’t drink poison if you’re banished to Mantua.
I promise I won’t be dumb enough to believe you would drink real poison.
So, we’re good. Next reason?
“Are you sexting him?” Lys asks.
I blush. “No. I don’t sext.”
“Yet,” Lys says.
“I think a boy is coming between us,” Nat says. “Chicks before … well, you know.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s not either/or. I love you guys, you know that.”
“Imma bring this waaaaay back,” Lys says before she starts in on the Spice Girls. “If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends … Make it last forever, friendship never ends.” Nat joins her, dancing in her seat as she drives.
They’re singing the Spice Girls in here.
Damn. That’s rough.
When Lys is done she takes her bows in the backseat, then leans forward and plants a wet kiss on my cheek. I’m pretty sure her sparkle lipstick is all over me.
“We just don’t want Gavin to steal you from us,” she says.
“And we don’t want you to be someone’s rebound,” Nat adds. She and Lys exchange a look and I realize this is something else they’ve discussed.
“Dude, what is up with you guys talking about all this shit behind my back?”
That word—rebound. I hate it. Every time it sneaks into my mind, I push it away, but here it is, right back where it wants to be, front and center.
“We’re not talking shit,” Lys says. “We just, you know, we love you. Some guys are grenades, you know?”
“He’s not a grenade,” I snap.
“But he is maybe possibly kind of on the rebound,” Nat says, her warm brown eyes settling on me as we wait at a stoplight. There’s no judgment there, nothing but love. My best friends are just trying to have my back—something you will one day hate them for.
“Maybe,” I say. “I mean, maybe that’s how this started or whatever. But now … You guys, this is … special. Like, so totally the real thing.”
“Just keep in mind that the dude has some unresolved issues,” Lys says. “And it’s not your job to fix them.”
I turn around. “You’re starting to sound too much like a professional psychologist.”
She beams. “Thank you.”
I’m a rebound. Is that it?
You take too long to answer and something inside me starts to crack. But then: Sorry, Kyle was trying to steal my phone. You are NOT a rebound. Trust me.
But maybe Nat and Lys are right. Maybe we should be slowing down.
What’s the real reason?
I’m running out of answers.
So …
So.
I lean back and sigh. “Boys are weird.”
“Now that,” Nat says as she turns onto my street, “is something we can agree on.”
“Also, you owe me ten bucks,” Lys says.