“No coffee?” Nash says.
“I quit.”
“Since when?”
“Since five hours ago. I’m detoxing my system.”
“Nice.”
A boat sails across the river, painting a glossy line of lights behind it.
“So,” Nash says, “are you . . . feeling better?”
“Totally. This helps a lot.”
“Blueberry crumble?”
“No. Well, yeah, but . . . just being here. With you.”
There’s so much I want to say to him. I wish I had been feeling these things last fall, before the kiss that didn’t happen, before the whole Derek debacle, before my downward spiral. There’s a force pulling me toward him that wasn’t there before. I’m not sure where it came from or when I first started feeling it, but it’s there. Only, while I’m feeling a pull toward Nash, it seems like he’s pulling away from me. Just like I pulled away from him before.
He obviously doesn’t like me anymore. I had my chance and I blew it.
Nash coughs. He goes, “Yeah, so . . . I’m making summer plans. I might do this robotics camp thing. Or maybe I’ll kick it in Aruba for the summer. I could use a recharge.”
“Like Dirk.”
“Huh?”
“Dirty Dirk. The other night he said how he wants to go to Aruba and have one of those touristy tropical drinks. You know, like in a coconut with all those mini umbrellas sticking out?”
“Oh. Guess I missed that one.”
Birgitte’s table cracks up in this burst of laughter. I wonder what it’s like to have a big entourage like that. It reminds me of how obsessed I was before with being more social and having a lot of friends. Why was I like that? Having a bunch of friends means nothing. It’s the ones who are always there for you that count. I’m lucky to have two good friends I love. That’s way more special than having ten random friends.
“I need to use the bathroom,” I say.
“I’ll alert the media.”
“Isn’t that from one of your retro movies?”
“Extra blueberry crumble if you know which one.”
“Nope. I’ll be right back.” I pass by Birgitte’s table and see Sierra sitting with her. When I’m in the bathroom washing my hands, Birgitte comes in.
“Hey,” she goes.
I look at her in the mirror. This could be some sort of trap.
Birgitte’s like, “There’s something I want to tell you.”
It probably has to do with Derek and Sierra and I really don’t want to hear this, whatever it is. I don’t want to get dragged down into the whole drama of them getting back together.
But of course I have to know. So I’m like, “What is it?”
“I felt really bad about laughing in front of Jordan. You know . . . when he gave me that letter from Nash? I saw you watching.”
Is she seriously telling me this? Seriously?
“It’s just that I was nervous,” she explains. “I have this laughing reaction when I’m nervous. It’s so embarrassing—I always feel bad after. It wasn’t because of the letter or Nash or anything.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but why are you telling me this?”
Birgitte checks her teeth in the mirror. “I know you’re friends with Nash and I didn’t want you to think it was anything against him. You could tell him I’m sorry. If you want.”
“Well . . . thanks for telling me,” I say.
“Okay. See you.”
That was weird, but it gives me hope. Because it proves that people really can change, if they want to badly enough. Which means that anything is possible.
51
When Nash walks into Cosmic Bowling, at first I can’t tell who it is because a shaft of sunlight is blocking my vision. Then he comes closer and I see him in this whole new way, like it’s the first time I’ve ever seen him.
He’s not Typical Nash, with a crumpled shirt and crazy hair and horn-rimmed glasses. He’s got this whole new-and-improved thing going on. He’s Stylin’ Nash. He has a new haircut and new clothes and . . . is that
product
in his hair? He has these hot jeans that actually make him look good. He has contacts instead of his glasses. He’s even, like, walking differently. Or something.
It’s like he did a whole summer reinvention thing over the weekend.
“Hey,” Nash goes.
I say something like, “Hauh.”
“Where’s Sterling?”
“Oh, she’s . . . in the bathroom?” I would so rather be out on our dock, relaxing with the Nash I know. This new Nash is kind of freaking me out.
Two girls walk by and look at him. They like,
look
at him.
We get shoes and a lane, but Jordan’s not here yet. So we decide to play one of the best old-school games while we’re waiting for him.
“Okay,” Sterling announces. “I’ve got one.”
“I’ve got the best one ever,” Nash counters.
“Sorry, buddy. Not as good as mine.”
“Well, I guess I’ll just let you go first then.”
The thing about playing Most Embarrassing Moment is that everyone thinks theirs is the most embarrassing because it happened to them. They’re usually too embarrassed to tell the stuff that’s
really
embarrassing, so the shock value is usually on the low side. But it’s still fun.
Sterling looks over at me. “Remember that time last year when I wanted to borrow your coat?”
“Not really,” I tell her.
“Yeah, it was like . . . you were in orchestra and I was whispering to you from the door and you were—”
“Oh,
yeah
!”
“Do you know why I wanted to borrow your coat so bad?”
“No . . .”
“Do you remember which pants I was wearing?”
“No . . . oh!”
“Those white ones.”
“Oooh.”
“Yeah.”
“So,” Nash says, “is this, like, a female thing?”
“You could say that,” Sterling goes.
“Got it. My turn. My thing is worse.”
Sterling’s like, “Challenge.” Which means that if his really is worse than hers, he wins.
“Challenge accepted,” Nash says. “I have one word for you: Birgitte.”
Part of playing Most Embarrassing Moment is that you have to actually explain what you’re talking about in excruciating detail. Hearing it out loud is half the embarrassment factor.
“We’ll need detailed information,” Sterling prompts. “Please explain.”
“You’re really going to make me say it?”
“That’s the game,” I remind him.
“Okay, okay. I liked Birgitte and I wrote her a letter and when Jordan gave it to her she laughed in my face. That’s it.”
“But you were down the hall,” I say.
“She was laughing in my face metaphorically. It’s only a technicality that Jordan’s face took the fallout.”
“Hmm,” Sterling wonders. “Which is more embarrassing: Completely ruined white pants that the whole flippin’ world can see, or liking some girl who doesn’t like you back?”
“Wait,” Nash goes to me. “How do you know where I was?”
“When?”
“When Jordan gave Birgitte the letter.”
“Oh. I was there.”
“You were
there
?”
“Yeah.”
“You saw the whole thing?”
“Yeah.”
“You never told me that.”
“I didn’t? Huh. Well, yeah, I was . . . I don’t really remember, just . . . around.”
Nash stares at me. “You’re hiding something.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. I can always tell when you’re hiding something.”
“How?”
“If I tell you, will you tell me why you were there?”
“I don’t need to know that much.”
“Aha! So you admit that you’re hiding something!”
“Do we need to be reminded of the most important rule for playing Most Embarrassing Moment?” Sterling asks. “I think we do, so here it is. You can never, under any circumstances, lie or—”
“I didn’t lie!”
Sterling blocks my face with her hand. “Can I finish?”
“Fine.”
“You can never, under any circumstances, lie or omit critical information.”
“It’s not critical.”
“It’s vital,” Nash says.
“What’s the difference?” Sterling asks. “Critical, vital, same thing.”
“And thank
you
, Ms. Synonymous,” I say.
Nash goes, “It’s vital because she’s trying so hard to cover it up. If it wasn’t important, she’d have said it already.”
“Said what?” Sterling goes. “How do you even know she’s hiding something?”
“I can always tell,” Nash says.
“You can’t omit information,” Sterling insists. “That’s not playing the game.”
I give up. “Okay, fine, you win. I’ll tell you. I was there because I thought the letter was for me. Happy now?”
“Why did you think that?”
“Remember when you wanted my advice about some girl you liked? But I didn’t know it was Birgitte because you didn’t tell me?”
“Yeah?”
“I thought it was me. Who you liked.”
“Okay . . .”
“So, I thought the letter was for me because I gave you that advice to write her something. And then I saw Jordan coming down the hall with it and I thought he was looking for me. Oh, and P.S.? Birgitte wasn’t really laughing at you. She was just nervous and she laughs when she’s nervous.”
“You thought the letter was for you?”
“I’m pretty sure I’ve already mentioned that.”
“But if you were the one I liked, why would I ask your advice about what to do?”
“I thought you were trying to tell me something. Like you wanted me to figure it out.”
“Oh.”
“Why was it so hot today?” Sterling wants to know.
We don’t answer her. We’re just looking at each other. Now Nash knows. And if he’s smart, which he is, I’m sure he’s figuring out that I wasn’t completely hating the idea of that letter being for me.
“Must be global warming,” Sterling proclaims.
Even though he’s somewhat mellowed out, Nash still can’t resist correcting someone who’s crazy wrong. “Global warming isn’t about one day being warmer than usual,” he explains. “Or even one season being above average temperature. It’s a trend that takes place over thousands of years.”
“But isn’t global warming a reality?”
“Yes, but not because it’s warmer today. You have to consider the earth as a large-scale system, in which everything is connected.”
I’m waiting for Nash to say something else about the letter incident, but he doesn’t. So we all just watch the lame guy in the next lane roll a gutter ball.
Jordan finally shows up. I wait for sparks to fly between him and Sterling. But the only sparks are coming from his direction. She could not look more uninterested. And the worst part is I can tell she’d rather be here with Chris. Or at least IMing with him instead of bowling with us.
We break out into teams. It’s me and Nash against Sterling and Jordan. So far, they’re kicking our butts.
“You’re up,” Nash says.
I lift the neon orange ball I always use. Not that I bowl all that often or anything. Which is obvious by how heinous my bowling skills are. Nash is really sweet to be on a team with me. He’s much better than I am.
I roll the ball. It knocks down two pins.
“You’re on a tear!” Nash yells. Which is a joke, since my last roll was a gutter ball.
“I’m all about the improvement,” I say.
“Obviously.”
Nash gets up for his turn. Damn, he looks good. He’s like a completely different person. But it’s not just what he looks like that’s different. His attitude is different, too. I’ve been noticing that he’s more outgoing and he seems more relaxed around people. It’s like he’s the new-and-improved Nash. Nash Version 4.0.
“Hey, so, Jordan asked if I wanted to do something next weekend,” Sterling whispers, even though Jordan is talking to someone playing the next lane.
“Get out!”
“I know.”
“What did you say?”
“I said I was seeing someone.”
“Why?”
Sterling gives me a look like,
Quit it.
I think I’m going to have to accept that nothing’s going to happen with Jordan.
She goes, “Is Nash trying to get on
People
’s Sexiest Men Alive list?”
“Um . . .”
“I mean, he looks . . .
good.
”
I know he does. I was just thinking that again when Sterling said it. But I’d be embarrassed to admit it out loud. Especially since Jordan and Nash are doing this dorky dance because Nash just rolled a strike.
“He’s on Marisa’s team, remember?” Sterling yells at Jordan.
“Yeah, but in spirit it’s girls against guys,” Jordan says.
Nash comes over and sits next to me. Sterling goes up to roll.
“Nice roll, right?” he brags.
“Yeah, yeah, you rule the planet.”
Nash’s arm is touching mine. Is he sitting like that on purpose? Does he want me to press my arm up against his more? Or does he even know we’re touching? There’s that pull between us again, except it still feels like it’s only going in one direction.
“Nice jeans,” I say. “They’re new?”
“Yeah. I just got a bunch of stuff.”
“I’ve noticed.”
Then Nash flashes me a look. And for the first time in a long time, I can see what happened between us behind his eyes. I don’t know what to say. So we just stay like that for a while. Saying everything without saying anything.
His arm burns against mine.
Nash is amazing. It’s like he decided who he wanted to be and then became the ultimate version of himself.
Now it’s my turn.
52
Here’s the good news: Sterling isn’t going to New York to meet Chris.
Here’s the bad news: He’s coming here instead.
Which means he knows where Sterling lives. And he knows where she goes to school and he knows how to find her whenever he wants. So when Sterling realizes that he’s a skeezy child molester, she won’t be able to escape him.