“I’m sure you will,” I say.
“But you have to be the one to tell Sally the Segway. Because I can’t watch her pine for Frank anymore,” he adds. “She’s driving me crazy.”
As Oliver leaves the garden that afternoon, I watch him nearly careen into an elderly woman on the sidewalk. Like a nineteenth-century nobleman, Oliver steps aside and bows gracefully, bidding the woman good afternoon, and she smiles back in delight. Oliver winks.
If I knew what was best for me, if I were someone else, I would fall in love with him. For his wit and charm and sense of adventure. The way he looks out for me, the way he’s not afraid to say what he wants.
But unfortunately, I’m not someone else. I’m me. And unfortunately, I have to be aware of the fact that Max Wolfe exists in the world. And, unfortunately, nobody else stands a chance.
23
They Were Really Smart Birds
“LET ME SEE if I have this straight,” Sophie says. “You and Max have been in love for years, and you finally kissed in real life. But in real life, Max is dating Celeste. And now Celeste is mad at you, and Oliver is, too, because he is in love with you, but you aren’t in love with him, you’re in love with Max, who you, incidentally, also haven’t spoken to in two days.”
“I would give anything in the world to tell you that even one sentence of that is wrong,” I say into my phone.
“Jesus,” Sophie exclaims. “My biggest challenge lately is how to get the new junior, Marco Medina, to notice I exist.”
“Oh no,” I groan. “What have you been doing?” I love Sophie, but she’s not the most tactful, and she’s extremely confident. It’s not always a winning combination.
“My mom said to just keep saying hi to him, so I’ve been doing that,” Sophie says.
“That doesn’t sound too bad,” I say.
“I may be saying it a bit too aggressively,” she admits. “The other day he all but ran away when I greeted him. You know, all, Hi!” She shouts the last part into the phone. “Anyway, you haven’t forgotten that I’m coming to visit, right?” she says.
“Of course not!” I say, reminding myself to go back into our last email chain and see which date we chose.
“Great,” she says, sounding excited. “I can’t wait to see all the drama in person.”
Celeste isn’t in Terrarium Club on Wednesday afternoon, and I feel sick about it. “Go ahead, eat me,” I mutter aloud to the man-eating plant. “I deserve it.” But then Parker dismisses us and I walk out of the greenhouse and find Celeste waiting by Frank, and then I feel sick all over again.
“It’s highly likely that she’s going to kill you,” Jeremiah observes as he walks by me with his signature hurried gait, on his way to where his mom is waiting at the curb in a white BMW.
“How do you know?” I snap.
“Everyone knows,” Jeremiah says. “Even me.”
“Relax,” Celeste says when I get closer, one hand on her hip. She’s wearing another amazing outfit—black leather leggings and a draped gray wool sweater. “You look like a puppy that did something bad.”
“That’s because I did,” I say.
“Of course you did,” Celeste calmly replies. “But the only thing worse than kissing another girl’s boyfriend is turning that girl into something to be scared of. Victimizing yourself is not cool.”
I really wish she wasn’t being so mature about this. It would make my life a lot easier.
“I know,” I say. “You have no idea how sorry I am for what happened.” And then I understand why Max said what he did. Because I am sorry. And he is sorry, too. And no matter how we feel about each other, you just don’t do that to a girl like this.
“It’s just weird, I thought I could spot girls like you,” Celeste says. “The boyfriend stealers. They act like they’re your friend but you can always sort of tell they aren’t, you always know they aren’t totally there. They have another agenda, another target, and you are just a prop to help them get to it.” She reaches down and absently dings Frank’s bell a few times as she chooses the right words. “But not you. You genuinely did not seem like that person to me. I was really beginning to think we could be friends. So I don’t want to kick your butt, I just want to know . . . what happened? So I can readjust my sense of the world again, and go back to Terrarium Club in peace.”
“I promise I’m not that kind of girl,” I say. “I know it seems like I am, because I did what I did, but . . .” I bite my lip, frustrated. This is too hard to explain. “Can you come with me?”
“Where?” Celeste asks.