“First holding hands and then, if that goes well, a kiss on the mouth. We discussed it. Made a plan of action.”
“With diagrams?”
“I considered it. But I’m pretty sure he knows where the hands and lips are, and I warned him to stay away from all other areas.”
“Did you tell him to stop holding hands if there’s a sweat situation? That’s important.”
“I didn’t think of that.”
“What kind of love guru are you?”
“Believe me,” he says, “I’m well aware it’s the blind leading the blind here.”
I wonder what his romantic history is. If he even has a romantic history. He stays so far apart from everyone at school that it’s hard to believe he’s ever made a real connection there. But people have summer flings and stuff like that, right?
I try to picture David flirting with a cute, nameless girl, but it’s too weird a thought. He’d have to let his guard down, and he never does that. Except for now, I guess. And a couple of other times alone with me.
My phone buzzes on the coffee table in front of me, where I’d tossed it when I sat down. I glance at it and laugh.
“What’s so funny?” David asks.
“It’s from Ivy. She wants me to join them in there.” But I don’t get up.
“Texting is the greatest invention ever,” David says idly. He doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to get up either. “For a sociopath like me, it’s the gift that keeps on giving. I once had a friend who always called me on the phone.”
“Not a friend anymore?”
“Goes without saying.”
“And yet I said it.”
“Some people just can’t help stating the obvious.”
“Some people don’t know how to make polite conversation.”
“Yeah,” he says. “That would be me.”
“You do okay when you want to.” My phone buzzes again. Ivy: Where are you? I ignore it.
“You know what we should do?” David says. “The next date, we should just leave Ivy and Ethan at one of our houses and go somewhere else together. Not too far away, just not there. I think it would help your sister get used to not always having you there without making a big deal out of it.”
“Yeah? Where would we go?”
“I don’t know,” he says. “Wherever you like.”
I have the strangest feeling that David Fields is sort of asking me out on a date. And an even stranger feeling that I don’t mind.
But then I quickly tell myself that’s not what he means, because he knows I have a boyfriend. A great boyfriend. The best.
Ivy calls from the doorway to the family room before I have to respond. She’s gotten up from the sofa to check on us. “Why are you guys sitting in here?”
Ethan comes up behind her. He puts his hands on her shoulders and gently squeezes. The last couple of times they’ve been together, he’s been reaching out to her a lot, clearly eager to get his hands on her in some way—?but it’s more sweet than pervy.
“We’re just talking,” I say.
“It’s so dark.” She moves toward us, and Ethan’s hands drop off her shoulders, but as he follows her, he keeps reaching out to touch her back or arm. “Why don’t you turn on the lights? Is it so you can make out?”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Ivy,” I say. It’s funny, but it’s also embarrassing. “Do we look like we’re making out? We’re not even sitting together.”
“It’s just that when you and James make out, you leave the lights off like this.”
“Who’s James?” asks Ethan.
“Chloe’s boyfriend,” Ivy says.
“Chloe’s big, strong, athletic boyfriend,” David says. “Which is why there’s no danger of me making out with your sister, Ivy. We were just too lazy to turn on the light.”
“Let’s go back in the TV room,” Ethan says to Ivy. He tugs at her arm and then runs his fingers down to her wrist. “Come on. I like when it’s just us two in there. And I want to finish the show.”
“But you guys will come in too?” Ivy says to me. “Since you’re not making out?”
“Yeah,” David says. “So long as we don’t suddenly start making out in the next few minutes, we’ll be in soon.”
“Okay.” She lets Ethan take her hand in his and lead her back into the family room.
“That wasn’t awkward at all,” David says.
“Sorry.”
“It’s fine. I have a high tolerance for embarrassing situations. I mean—” He gestures at himself. “I’d have to, right?”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I just shrug. He’s okay. There’s nothing actually wrong with the way he looks or even the way he acts when we’re hanging out together. It’s just that he can be so weird and standoffish at school.
He says, “Ethan seems pretty happy whenever he’s with your sister.”
“I am so proud of myself.” I give a little bounce in the chair. “I mean, I saw Ethan and was, like, This is the perfect guy for Ivy. I am brilliant.”
“I’d pat you on the back, but you’re doing a good enough job of that on your own. Plus, you start off patting someone’s back in a dark room, and you know what that leads to—”
“What?”
“Ask Ivy,” he says. “She’s figured it all out.”
We eventually make our way to the family room, where we watch the end of Ivy and Ethan’s show with them—?although I’m really watching Ivy and Ethan, not the show. They’re more interesting. He’s sitting all squished up next to her on the sofa, much closer than the space requires.
His thigh is tight against hers, his fingers constantly creeping toward her arm in the desire to touch her somehow, somewhere . . .