I hate that Carlos seems to be under the impression that Zoe likes me because I’m useful. It’s one thing for Jessa to think it, but it’s totally different with someone who knows Zoe so well. Hasn’t she cleared this up yet? “It’s not up to me,” I say. “But my mom basically already offered her a spot in her studio. She loves Zoe. When I told her we were together, she was thrilled out of her mind.” I sit up straight and look Carlos right in the eye when I say it. Did you hear that? I’m serious enough about us that I’ve told my parents.
Carlos doesn’t seem bothered at all. “That’s so awesome. Zo’s spent the entire last year talking about Lana. When she found out she was moving to New York, it was one of the first things she mentioned.” All I hear is, I was there when Zoe got into Juilliard, and you weren’t. I picture Carlos and me as two rams, butting each other with our big curved horns.
When the waiter comes, I order a burger, medium rare. I need to fortify myself with red meat if I’m going to wage a subtextual war all weekend.
Zoe orders, then gets up and heads toward the bathroom. “I’ll be right back,” she says. “You kids play nice, okay?”
Carlos smiles at her and says, “Why wouldn’t we?” He’s not acting like I’m a threat to him at all, which means one of us is misreading this situation. I desperately hope it’s not me.
As soon as she’s gone, he leans toward me. “So, listen…Zoe and I haven’t seen each other in more than a month, and we were wondering if maybe…could you give us the room tonight? And maybe on Saturday, after we get back from camping? You can obviously sleep there tomorrow, while we’re gone.” He looks apologetic, but I can tell it’s not really a request.
I don’t know why I’m surprised; obviously Zoe and Carlos want to be alone tonight. They’re not exactly going to lie chastely side by side and catch up on Boulder gossip while I sleep six feet away. In a couple of hours, they’re going to have sex—full-on, naked sex, where no body parts are off limits and nobody pushes anyone’s hands away. Maybe if I were satisfying her even a little, she would’ve canceled his trip.
I can’t be upset with Carlos for any of this. It’s entirely my fault he’s here.
“Sure,” I say, and my voice comes out scratchy and hoarse, like it had to claw its way up my throat. “You can have the room. That’s fine.”
“Thanks, Brooklyn.” Carlos puts his hand over mine and gives it a grateful squeeze. “Zoe said you were cool. I can see why she likes you so much.”
Half of me is going, Zoe likes me so much! and the other half is going, I really wish my girlfriend’s boyfriend would let go of my hand. I flash him a quick smile and pull away.
When Zoe comes back from the bathroom, she slides into her chair and beams at us. “What’d I miss?” she asks. “Did you guys bond?”
“Yup,” Carlos says at the same time that I say, “You didn’t miss anything.”
Zoe turns back to her boyfriend, full of questions about his summer job, and I slide my phone out of my purse and text Russell.
You still free tonight?
The rest of dinner is excruciating. I spend the first half cataloging every detail of how Zoe and Carlos interact. It’s obvious she likes him better than she likes me, but I want to know exactly how much better. Of course, that quickly becomes exhausting. By the time I’m halfway through my burger, I’m too worn out to pay that kind of attention, and I settle for keeping my eyes on my plate and making sure my mouth is always too full to talk. The second the check lands on the table, I plunk down a twenty and stand to leave.
Zoe looks up at me. “Where are you going?”
“I told Russell I’d meet up with him.”
She makes a pouty face. “Can’t you meet him later? We’re going to get ice cream at Moo-Moo’s. They have that blackberry chocolate chip you like.” I’m not sure why she’s trying to get me to stay; she obviously wants to be alone with her boyfriend.
“No, thanks. I’m too full for ice cream.” I sling my bag over my shoulder, certain my head is going to explode if I stay here one more second. “Have fun camping tomorrow.”
“Won’t I see you back in the—” Zoe starts, but Carlos puts his hand over hers, and she stops talking. I guess they’re one of those couples who can communicate telepathically. “Thanks, Brooklyn,” she says instead.
“See you Saturday.” Zoe moves to get up and hug me, but I can’t handle her arms around me tonight; it’ll only feel like a consolation prize. I pretend I don’t see how she’s reaching for me, and I walk out of the restaurant.
I’m not even twenty paces down the street when my phone chimes with a new text:
You’re not mad, are you?
No, I write back. Have fun. I add a smiley emoticon, glad she can’t see my actual face.
The phone chimes again immediately.
You’re the absolute best. xoxoxo
I want to feel like I’m in control of something, so I don’t reply.
I go straight to the dorm and stuff my laptop, a book, pajamas, toiletries, a towel, and a change of clothes into my duffel bag. It’s probably way too much stuff, but I don’t know what time they’re leaving tomorrow, and the last thing I want is to show up when they’re still in bed, sleepy and naked. I try not to even look at Zoe’s bed as I pack, so I won’t think too hard about what’s going to happen there in a couple of hours.