“What I need is someone who is there for me no matter what,” you say. “I need someone dependable.”
This doesn’t make me feel better. It’s like saying I’m a Volvo or something. I don’t want to be dependable. I want to be a Ferrari—sleek and fast and sexy as hell. You lean back and run your hands through my hair, gentle. I wanted to get it cut like Lys’s, but you told me no, you love it this way. I should have cut it, Gav. I should have done whatever the fuck I wanted to. But I didn’t, did I?
“We fit. Like … a puzzle. You know?” you say.
I thought I was the one that didn’t fit anywhere, but maybe with you that can change. Maybe.
“But…” I look at you, helpless. “The opposite of deep is shallow. Do you think I’m some ditzy, pea-brained—”
“I didn’t mean deep as in … like that. I meant…” You frown and look away for a moment. Take off your fedora and run your hand through your hair. “You’re perfect, Grace. That’s what my dumb ass was trying to say. I meant that you’re not, like, a tortured person. You’re good and sweet and that fucked-up shit doesn’t make sense to you because it’s fucked up.” Your eyes mist over. “I’m fucked up.”
“Gavin—”
“No, I am. I mean, what kind of guy tells the girl he’s in love with something like that? I don’t deserve you.”
You deserve someone better. That’s the problem. I can’t imagine ever earning my place by your side.
You stand up and reach out your hand.
I take it, wordless, and follow you to a corner of the backyard your parents can’t see from the sliding glass door. You sit down in the grass and pull me on top of you, my legs on either side of your hips. By the time you’re done with me, I don’t know which way is up, only that I want more, more, more. I forget that you don’t think I’m deep and I forget the hurt inside me. You kiss it all away.
FOURTEEN
I can’t stop thinking about what you said. For a week it bothers me, needling under my skin. You’re not very deep. You ask me what’s wrong and I say, Nothing, I’m fine. Smile, smile. And I am. Except when I’m not.
I find myself watching every word I say to you, wondering what they say about me. I look for disappointment in your eyes, get nervous whenever you play me a new song. I’ve been walking on eggshells for a week. You’re up north this weekend visiting your grandparents, so I spend Saturday with the girls, secretly relieved to have a little break from you. A break from the me I am with you.
“It’s time for some broke girls’ food,” Nat says as she pulls into the Wendy’s drive-through. She glances at me. “Dollar menu?”
“Is there any other kind? Fries and chili for me,” I say. “And a Frosty.”
“Lys?” she asks.
“Same.”
She makes the order and we pool our money together, then head toward Lys’s house, which is in a fancy development a few miles outside of town.
“Are you still a virgin?” Lys suddenly asks, leaning forward. “Inquisitive minds want to know.”
“Oh my god, where did that come from?” I say.
“Come on, like we weren’t gonna ask,” Nat says.
“Yes. Still a virgin.”
“I thought he would have deflowered you by now,” Lys says. “I mean, when he and Summer were together, it was obvious he was hot for her, but with you he’s like … obsessed.”
I smile. “Good.”
Last night you insisted that we fall asleep together, so we set up our phones on FaceTime. I was the first to fall asleep. When I woke up in the morning, you were curled on your side, your hair falling over your eyes. Shirtless. You’re pretty adorable when you’re sleeping.
I glance at Nat. “Speaking of obsessed boys … what’s up with you and Kyle?”
“Yeah, dude. He’s gotten super touchy-feely with you lately,” Lys says.
Nat can’t keep the smile off her face. “We … may have made out last night.”
Cue screaming. “WHAT? Details now,” I say.
“Okay, when I say made out I don’t mean like the way you probably make out with Gavin. We kissed. For a while. That’s it,” Nat says.
“Tongue?” Lys asks, clinical.
Nat goes beet red. “Yes. A little.”
“What does Jesus have to say about this?” I tease.
Nat sticks her tongue out at me. “I didn’t consult him.”
“I want someone to make out with!” Lys falls back against her seat dramatically.
I reach back and squeeze her hand. “She’s out there somewhere.”
“Yeah. Like Antarctica,” Lys mutters.
When we get to Lys’s we change into our swimsuits and go sit in her Jacuzzi.
“You okay?” Nat asks.
I was zoning out, going back through the conversation I’d had with you on the phone this morning, wondering if I’d said something stupid.
“What? Yeah, I’m fine,” I say, sinking farther into the water.
“No you’re not,” Lys says. She cocks her head to the side, studying me. “What’s up?”
I don’t want to be disloyal to you, but I have to get this off my chest.
“Gav … he said something last week that … I mean, it’s nothing, but—do you guys think I’m deep?”
“Deep?” Nat says.
“Like, can I be philosophical or, I don’t know, deep. You know?”
Nat narrows her eyes. “What exactly did Gavin say to you?”
“Nothing.”
Lys points at me. “Liar.”
I slip farther into the Jacuzzi, the water bubbling all around me.
“He … said I wasn’t deep.”
“What. The. Fuck?” Lys says. “Are you serious?”
“He didn’t mean it in, like, a bad way.”
Nat shakes her head. “There’s no good way to mean it. How could he say that to you?”
I shouldn’t have said anything. “Guys, don’t make a big deal out of this. Seriously, he just … misspoke.”
“Don’t make excuses for him,” Lys says. “That was a dick thing to say.”
I know they’re right. But there’s nothing I can do. It’s not like we can change the past. And I know you’d take back the words if you could.
Nat reaches underwater for my hand. “You’re one of the deepest people I know. He’s an idiot. A hot idiot, but still an idiot. I mean, you freaking read War and Peace for fun and, like, listen to NPR podcasts. Yesterday you said you wanted to direct a Brecht play and then explained The Communist Manifesto to me.”
“And you can quote Leaves of Grass and tell classical composers apart,” Lys said. “Remember when we were in Macy’s and you were all, I love Vivaldi!”
I smile a little. “I remember because you gave me shit for it.”
“Girl, that’s because you’re a bougie motherfucker and I love you.”
Nat’s phone buzzes and she dries her hand on a towel before reaching for it.
“Peter’s parents are gone for the weekend and he’s having people over tonight. Are we going?” she says.
“Who’s gonna be there?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I’m guessing the whole drama crew.”
Lys nods. “Let’s do it.” She glances at me. “This one needs to let loose.”
“I’m fine,” I say. My phone buzzes and I glance at it, then smile.
“What?” Nat says.
I hold up my phone so they can see. It’s a picture of your grandparents and underneath you’ve typed, This will be us in eighty years.