Solving for Ex (26 page)

Instead, I fidgeted, glanced around, and found I couldn’t get comfortable in my chair. The waitress brought our pancakes and a whole pitcher of warm syrup. My stomach turned.

“Vincent, I…”

“Yeah?” He leaned forward, hanging on my every word, stroking the back of my hand with his thumb.

And then, I knew. When I looked at this guy, who basically thought the world revolved around me, and who was confirmed by every other girl there to be the cutest guy in the whole school, and all I felt was the sensation of my skin crawling, I knew. As nice as it was to be kissed and held and flattered and admired by Vincent, I didn’t love him. Didn’t even really like him that much, if I was being honest. His attitude was too perfect. So were his pretty words about his dreams. There was just something I didn’t trust.

It could have been a lot of things. It could have been that I didn’t get dressed nicely that day. It could have been sleeping in my old bed last night. Hell, it could have been that the pancakes were plain instead of banana.

But I knew it wasn’t. I knew it was him.

So when he leaned in to kiss me over the table, and I tried to let the soft, warm sweetness of his lips wash over me, all I felt was the weird stickiness of pancake syrup holding us together for an unnatural extra fraction of a second.

“This is all wrong.”

His eyebrows scrunched together. “What’s wrong? Is your breakfast okay?”

“It’s…actually, no, it’s…it’s not at all.” His eyebrows scrunched together. “I can’t do this, Vincent.”

“Okay, well, we’ll get you something else,” he said, waving for the waitress to come over.

“No.” I pulled my hands away from his. “I can’t do us.”

“Like…you can’t be with me? I don’t get it, Ashley.” Now he sounded angry. “I set up that whole thing for you last night. And when you kissed me, I could swear…I mean, you liked it, right?”

“Vincent. You’re very sweet, okay? And the picnic was really nice. Really. It’s just…I don’t know. Isn’t this kind of fast?”

“Jesus, Ashley.” He sat back and raked the hand that had been holding mine through his hair. “I told you I changed. I drove all the way out here just to see you. What else do you want?”

“I don’t know…nothing, I guess. Maybe take things slower? I’m sorry, okay?”

“Do you have any idea how many girls at school would kill to date me?”

“Yeah, I do. Maybe that’s part of the problem.”

“What the hell, Ashley? I did all this to show you I want you.”

“It’s not right, Vincent. It hasn’t been. I just didn’t know for sure until now.”

I wanted to tell him to treat me like me instead of treating me like he thought girls wanted to be treated. I wanted to tell him I wasn’t impressed by his cologne or his nice clothes. I wanted to tell him that I didn’t really care about parties, or cars, or fancy restaurants.

We made the drive back to Mom’s in silence. When we pulled up to the house, he stared forward through the windshield, his jaw hard.

“Have you ever heard of Hafiz? Persian poet?”

“Vincent, I…”

“He wrote, ‘Sometimes love wants to do us a great favor—hold us upside down and shake all the nonsense out.”

My heart wrenched. I knew what he was saying. And I didn’t care. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I am.”

“I can’t believe I ever liked you. You play hard to get, drag a guy along for weeks, then ditch him? My sister might throw herself at guys, but at least she’s not a frigid bitch.” His words had a snap to them far colder than the winter chill.

My eyes, now set in a cold, hard stare, shot over to him. He wasn’t wrong. I’d gone out with him, I’d even kissed him. But that didn’t change what my gut was telling me right now. Something about this wasn’t okay.

And nothing I’d done made it okay for him to talk to me like a piece of trash.

I swallowed hard. “You’re the one who was after me. You chased me. And, yeah, I was interested. I’d be stupid not to be. But the dance and the birthday party and the camera, that was you. Pursuing me.”

“Yeah, so can you blame me for expecting anything in exchange here? I’m just glad I found this out now. I mean, Jesus Christ, Ashley. How many guys did you lead on like this only to fucking blue ball them? You know what?” He leaned in so that his breath blew in my face. The sharp scent of coffee there made me nauseous. “I’ll bet that rumor about the lacrosse captain was one hundred percent true. Except you probably got off on almost screwing him, and then bringing out your ‘I’m sorry, I can’t’ act.”

“Excuse me?” I knew he was pissed, but this was a lower blow than I would have imagined was possible. “It’s not an act, you asshole.”

He looked me up and down, a storm in his eyes. “Wasted a shit ton of time when I could have been with girls who were actually interested in me. But all that energy I put into going after you? For nothing? Didn’t get laid, didn’t get anything. Shit, you’re not even pretty.”

“This isn’t even about you,” I snarled. “Or it wasn’t until about sixty seconds ago.”

“Oh, that’s right. It’s always about Brendan. He doesn’t want you, you know that? He never wanted you. And now it finally makes sense to me why he didn’t.”

“Shut up,” I said, staring at the seam where the truck door fit to the floor. My voice was a strangled whisper, and the acid churning in my stomach intensified, making my head spin.

But then, I took a deep breath. If there was any time to get a hold of myself, this was it. Vincent had lavished a ton of attention on me, and he definitely liked me. Or, at least, he seemed to until about three minutes ago, when he made it glaringly obvious that becoming my boyfriend was some weird challenge to him, and getting laid was the grand prize. But no matter how sweet he had been to me, one thing I knew for sure was that I had a right to say no to him.

“Shut up,” I said again, much stronger this time. “You have no right to talk to me like that. Fancy parties and truck bed picnics are not an automatic ticket into my pants.”

Vincent reached across me to pop open my door, pushing it so it swung wide open. A shock of cold air swirled around my ankles, and my skin crawled at his closeness. “I don’t know why I even bothered to waste a goddamn fucking second on you. If I were you, I wouldn’t expect Brendan to either.” He lifted his head and looked at me with an expression of enraged disgust. “Get the fuck out of my car. I have things to do back home.”

If I was in doubt before, this sealed the deal. I wasn’t in love with him, but he sure knew how to gut punch me anyway. Last night, I’d been on top of the world. Now, all I wanted was to shrivel up into a ball, like one of those potato bugs that curls at the slightest touch, and wait right there in the driveway for someone to step on me.

I hoisted myself out of the cab and threw a sharp “Fuck you,” over my shoulder before slamming the door behind me.

yet a keener solicitude

I hadn’t been back in my Mom’s house for longer than ten minutes before my phone rang. I pulled it out of my pocket just in time to see Brendan’s picture, that stupid one he’d made me take with his face pressed up against the window so it’d look like he was trapped in my phone. I wanted to roll my eyes, laugh, and cry all at the same time.

“Hey,” I said right when I picked up. I tried to keep my voice sarcastic, vaguely friendly, and measured all at the same time. To match the eye rolling, laughing, and crying.

I had forgotten how awesome living next door to someone was for ease of communication. When you could just go next door to talk to someone, you could use things like facial expressions. That was lost to Brendan and me, at least for today.

“Hey,” Brendan said on the other end. “How was your Thanksgiving? How’s your mom?”

“They’re…uh…fine. What’s up? Aren’t you busy?” I left off the part I was really thinking— With Sofia? Possibly making out with Sofia in your room? I shook my head. I couldn’t think of that now.

“Actually, yeah. Getting ready for State. I…things aren’t going well. I need you.”

“I need you” was in the list of top five things I would have killed to hear Brendan say to me. Just not in the context of Mathletes. But whatever.

“I’m not even on the team anymore, in case you forgot.” That one stung, I knew it. But it stung me too.

Brendan sighed heavily. “I know. And that sucks, and you’re pissed off, and I get that. I really am sorry it turned out like that, Ash. You have to believe me. But right now…I really think you’re the only one in the whole damn school who can help us.”

Now I was listening. Damn Brendan for knowing that Mathletics-related flattery could get anyone pretty far with me. I sighed, too. “Okay. What’s going on?”

“I tried running some board problems with Sofia. You know, for fun.”

I rolled my eyes. Only Brendan would think that running Mathletes competition questions on opposing whiteboards would count as fun with one’s girlfriend. Only Brendan would actually have two giant whiteboards set up in his room for that purpose. And only I would have been totally on board with that as a recreational activity.

“And? She kicked your ass? What does this have to do with me?”

“No, Ash. She was…slow. Actually,” he blew out a long breath, “I’m not really sure she knew how to do them at all.”

“Well, that’s….”

“Impossible, I know.”

I was going to say that it actually made a lot of sense. But I bit my tongue.

“That’s why I’m calling,” he continued. “I want to run a crash course. Tomorrow. And I need you to help me.”

“Are you seriously asking me to come home early from Thanksgiving break to help you and your girlfriend train for a Mathletes competition that I so desperately wanted to go to?” There was a long pause.

“I….well, yeah. I guess I am. I’m sorry, Ashley. About the team. You know. But it doesn’t mean that you’re not awesome at this, and that we still couldn’t use your help. And it’ll make you an awesome captain next year.

“I’m going to need you at the competition, too. Will you come? Please? Be an honorary team member. I need you, okay?”

“Okay, okay.” As much as I would have loved an extra day to emotionally deal with the fact that I had just rejected the most beautiful guy at school, I’d go home early, and I’d help him.

“Let me round up Kristin and Bruce.”

Ω

I’d barely dropped my duffel bag back in my room at Kristin and Bruce’s before I went over to Brendan’s for the practice session he’d called.

“I’m just going next door,” I called. “Practicing board problems, everyone’s at Brendan’s.”

“A little late for that, don’t you think?” said Aunt Kristin.

The only time everyone could get together was eight, since everyone was getting back from traveling over the holiday. On a Saturday night. I guessed most kids would have been bummed about practicing instead of partying, but on a night as frigid as this, I wasn’t even willing to sit in the car long enough for the heat to take the chill off the air. The only thing that definitely royally sucked about Mathletes practice being held on this Saturday night was that Sofia would be there to hang all over Brendan and pout about having to practice.

I didn’t bother to put a coat on as I bounded out the door wearing my slippers instead of real shoes—I knew it would take me exactly eighteen long strides to reach Brendan’s front door.

I stood on his porch, my breath making clouds that puffed all around my head. I’d barely knocked once when he opened the door. “Oh, hey, Ash.”

I stepped in, stamping the snow off my feet, then stepped out of my slippers. I looked down at my feet and realized that I hadn’t changed out of my pink, purple, and green striped fuzzy socks. I rolled my eyes at myself. Very mature.

Brendan and I walked up the wide stairwell to his room, and his arm looped around me like old times. “Geez,” he said. “You really should have worn a coat. I think the Pittsburgh air froze your sweatshirt.” He rubbed the length of my arm, and it was all I could do not to turn into him right there and let my body fall into his.

Instead of the whimper that wanted to break free from my throat, I forced words. “You got the boards set up?”

“Yeah. Even made popcorn.” Brendan led me up the stairs to his room. When I’d first moved here, I’d spent plenty of depressed hours stretched out on his floor watching funny movies in Brendan’s attempt to cheer me up. Now I’d have to sit there watching Sofia arrange herself suggestively on his bed, probably, while I’d teeter on the edge of needing to be cheered up from scratch.