Emmy & Oliver (20 page)

It sounded like a nightmare. “Awesome,” I said. “But the girls have a million food allergies. What are we eating? Tofu?”

My dad made retching sounds.

“I think they're grilling,” my mom said, ignoring him. “But we're supposed to bring the salad, which means that I have to find that recipe. . . .” She fluttered off to her laptop, where she organized recipes by food group, holiday, event, and season. It's an Excel spreadsheet straight from foodie heaven. “Are you in the mood for feta?” she called to me as she disappeared.

“Possibly!” I called back. I had finished eating that banana in record time. “Can I go hang out with Drew today?”

“Ask your father,” came the reply, so I turned to look at my dad. “Can I?”

“You and Drew have been spending a lot of time together,” my dad said in a non-nonchalant (or perhaps, chalant? is that even a word?) way.

“Dad, Drew's gay,” I told him, just as my mom yelled, “Drew's gay!” from her office. I swear, she's installed hidden microphones in every room in the house.

“I know,” my dad said, then tapped me on the head with the newspaper as he walked past. “Your old dad may know a little more than you think he does.”

“What?” I said, but he just waved the newspaper at me and went out to the garage, leaving me alone in the kitchen.

“So is that a yes?” I called to no one in particular, and when no answer came, I
decided it was definitely a yes, and went to call Drew.

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D
rew picked me up in his van an hour later, barely stopping at the curb before I was already opening the door and swinging myself in. “Hello, hello,” he said, adjusting his sunglasses. “The Drew Express has arrived safely and on time. Please feel free to give our fledgling business five stars on Yelp.”

“I'll tell all my friends,” I said, fastening my seat belt. I couldn't help but notice that Oliver's driveway was empty and that the blinds in the front window were pulled shut. Where had they gone?

“Where's your board?” Drew asked me.

“Parents,” I replied, jerking my thumb over my shoulder. “They're both home right now, watching my every move.”

“Just as well. The waves are super flat today.” Drew hit the gas harder and I made a mental note to prepare for my mother's eventual discussion about how it's a “safe neighborhood” and Drew needed to be “more cautious.” (Talking to her is like playing Mad Libs sometimes. You just insert the appropriate phrase into its proper slot.)

“So!” Drew said, grabbing my knee for emphasis. “Guess what we are doing today?”

“Surprise me.” His smile was so wide that it made me smile, too.

“We”—he squeezed my knee again—“are going to Starbucks.”

I just stared at him. “Wow,” I finally said. “Because those are
really
rare and we
never
go to them. I'm so glad we're hanging out today.”

“Could you please stop dripping your sarcasm all over my car's interior? And I could
give a shit about Starbucks. I like the place next door better, you know that. But Starbucks has the best
employees
.” He wiggled his eyebrows at me.

The pieces clicked together.

“Kevin works at Starbucks?” I guessed, and Drew nodded. “So I get to go to Starbucks and watch you flirt with the barista?”

“Feel free to live tweet the experience!”

“Drew!” I banged my head against the headrest. “This is going to be so boring! And aren't you supposed to play hard to get? This is definitely not playing hard to get.”

“Okay, first, thank you for being an amazing, supportive friend. I'll totally buy you something that involves whipped cream and I'll love you forever.”

“And?”

“And the time for playing hard to get is over because I have been
gotten
.” Drew looked so pleased that the tips of his ears were turning red. “Kevin stayed over after the party last night.”

“You had sex with Kevin?!”
I dove for my phone, ready to text Caro.

“No, no, not
that
. God, calm down. I just . . . we kissed and . . . you know, we actually cuddled.”

“You do like to snuggle.”

“I am a first-class snuggler, let's be real. And so is Kevin.” Drew held up his hand, made a V with his index and middle fingers, then brought them together. “Compatible.”

“Is he a good kisser?”

He signaled to turn left out into the main intersection. “Do you think I'd be this excited if it was like making out with a mackerel? He was amazing.
He
is amazing. And he”—Drew honked at the person in front of him to move—“said he likes me back.
What
is the holdup here?” He honked again.

“You literally look like you're starring in a romantic comedy right now,” I said. “You're almost glowing. I need sunglasses to look at you.”

Drew handed me his and I put them on. “Do I look stupid?” I flipped down the car's visor to look in the mirror, but there wasn't one.

He glanced at me. “No, you're adorable.” He honked again. “I mean, seriously. How hard is it to press a gas pedal?”

“You know Caro and I still have to vet Kevin, though. He needs to be group-approved for our official seal of approval.”

“Caro already gave him the thumbs-up last night, even though she was so drunk, she couldn't even spell her name. Which is more than I can say for you and your
disappearing act.
Why
are we just sitting here?” Apparently, Drew had no problem keeping two conversations going at the same time, one with me and one with the traffic jam.

“Well, I was a little busy last night,” I said, suddenly feeling my ears turn as red as Drew's.

But he was too distracted by the traffic jam to notice. “Are you
kidding
me?” he cried, sticking his head out the window. “The sign says STOP!” he yelled. “Not GIVE UP!”

“I thought making out with someone was supposed to
lower
your blood pressure,” I mention as he settled back in the driver's seat.

“You know I have road rage,” Drew replied, like it was the simplest answer imaginable. “Now, sorry. What?”

“What what?”

“You were saying?”

“Oh, just that I was busy last night.” I tucked my hair behind my ear.

“Nervous tic!” Drew cried. “Tell me everything. Especially because we're not going anywhere anytime soon.” He glared at the traffic jam.

“So, um, me and Oliver sort of made out last night.”

“Shut up!” Drew slapped the steering wheel in delight. “You did not!”

“Oh, but I did.”

“Okay, can I just say? Oliver is way cuter than the last guy you kissed.”

“Ethan was totally fine, dude, I—”

“Rabbit teeth. There, I said it.”

“He was going to get orthodontia eventually,” I protested. “But I don't want to talk about Ethan.”

“Yes, okay. Redirecting back.
Thank you!
” he suddenly screamed at the cars in front of us as they began to crawl forward. “I was starting to worry that I should have packed a snack and a canteen just so I could drive three miles to Starbucks. So where did you make out?”

“The gazebo, of course.”

“Naturally. Did you initiate?”

I hesitated just long enough for Drew to say, “It's totally fine if you did, you know. You have to be a take-charge woman, Emmy. No one likes a doormat.”

“No, I'm just trying to remember,” I told him. “I think . . . I did? Or maybe it was . . . ?” I frowned and tilted my head, like it would dislodge the stuck memories and send the correct one to its rightful place in my brain. “I think we sort of just met in the middle.” I
brought my hands together. “Like this. But, you know, better.”

“And he's a good kisser?”

I nodded, blushing again. “He's no mackerel.”

Drew gave my shoulder a gentle shake. “You're so cute!” he said. “You and your childhood love, back together. Someone needs to call Oprah. Or Ellen. Whoever has a daytime talk show that will get you a movie deal.”

“He's not my ‘childhood love,'” I told him, making air quotes around the last two words. “He's Oliver. He's just a dude—”

“—that you made out with last night. You're welcome, by the way, for throwing that party.”

“Thank you, Drew,” I intoned. “Best friend ever. You're the best.”

He nodded approvingly. “I think you and I should stick together more often,” he said. “We can make out with half of California if we play our cards right.”

I just laughed and moved my hair again so it would stop blowing in my face. Drew's car was amazing, but it had no air conditioning, and all the windows were down. “He still hasn't texted me,” I said.

“Did you text him?”

“No. That's why I wanted to hang out with you. Because I wasn't sure what to do.”

Drew patted my hand. “You've come to the right place.”

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A
s happy as I was to see Drew happy with Kevin, canoodling at the register over the chocolate bars and day-old bananas, it wasn't exactly my ideal Saturday afternoon. Still,
Drew made good on his promise to get me some sort of frosty mocha whipped-cream thing that was delicious. It eased the pain of hanging out at a table mostly by myself, checking my phone for a text that never came.

“You should text him,” Drew told me when there were customers, and Kevin had to take their order. “Just do it.”

“Well, what do I say?” I ran my thumb over my phone's screen. “Like, ‘Good making out with your face last night? Let's do it again.'?”

“Text Caro and ask her. You need all the help you can get.”

I made a face at Drew but texted Caro, anyway. Her response came through a minute later:

Just say what's up or whatever
.

I told Drew when he wandered back to me.

Drew sounded annoyed. “‘What's
up
?'
That's
her answer? God, she bugs the hell out of me sometimes. I love her but I want to kill her, you know?”

“I know,” I said, because I did. “That's friendship, dude. Kevin's free again, by the way.”

Drew glanced over his shoulder. “Be right back. You better have texted him by the time I return.” He pointed his finger at me, then tapped me on the nose and went back to Kevin, who hadn't stopped blushing in the hour that we had been there.

I rolled my eyes in their general direction, then texted Oliver before I could stop myself. It took a few minutes to figure out what to say, but in the end, I went with something safe, just in case Maureen was checking Oliver's phone. “Hey,” a voice said, and I looked up to see Kevin holding a duplicate of the drink Drew had bought me earlier. “Thought you might want another. On the house.”

“The service here is amazing,” I said, then smiled and took it. “Thanks.”

Kevin sat down next to me. “Drew went to use the bathroom but he said I had to check and make sure that you texted Oliver.”

“So you're up to speed?”

“You made out with him last night but now you're too scared to text him and he hasn't texted you yet?”

“Impressive. You are up to speed. And I did text him. I said”—I held up the phone so Kevin could read it—“‘Had a great time last night.' What do you think?”

Kevin shrugged. “A little boring, but it'll do. Better than Caro's response, that's for sure.” He grinned at me and I could see why Drew was starry-eyed over him. “Thanks for hanging out here, by the way. I know it's not exactly exciting just watching us talk to
each other.”