She’s seriously funny. I wonder if she sees it. I’m not sure if a girl has ever made me laugh as often as she does. Granted half the time she’s pissed at me, but the times she’s not, she’s freaking funny. Or maybe I’m just on edge being around this girl, and laughing is the only way to get rid of it.

“You’re not a full card-carrying member yet, but you’re the closest I have.”

I can see her try to fight her laugh, too, but then she just lets loose. It’s crazy to hear her laugh. It’s so different than her regular voice and sort of… alive. Which sounds absolutely stupid, but that’s the only word I can think of.

“I’m pretty sure you just gave me a compliment, Hanes.”

She shakes her head. “The Hanes thing has to go.”

“Aww, come on. You know you like it.” I sit at the small table in her kitchen.

“Hungry?” she asks.

I’m wondering how the hell she still has room in her stomach, but I’m not about to be outdone.

“Sure. What do you have?”

A stack of menus lands on the table. “I don’t cook.”

“Isn’t your mom a chef?”

One of her brows goes up. “Hence the reason I’ve never learned to cook.”

I laugh again. Maybe she’s not so bad.

Twelve

~ Ziah ~

Hot party-guy is in my house. For pizza and a movie. The same day he totally checked me out. And then, just when I thought it would be weird that he looked at me like that, we stuffed ourselves sick over cake, he got it all over my face, and being around him got easy again. Too bad the whole liking someone thing isn’t for me.

We’re halfway through a large pizza and the first movie. I thought about trying to get him in the big chair with me, but that would be stupid on a million levels. Instead we’re on the worn, beige couch.

“So, you’re not one of those salad girls, huh.” He shoves another slice in his mouth.

“Salad is for rabbits. I eat real food.”

Dylan didn’t admit it, but he’s obviously seen this movie before. I can tell because he’s into it but doesn’t jump when he should. Not that I think he’d be jumpy, but it’s just a feeling I get.

He looks at me a little too long again, and I know I should be running away from this, but I sort of don’t want to. It’s been so long since I’ve been around someone who made me feel like they liked what they saw. And since just a look from him gave me the happy let’s-get-closer tingles. This is harmless. Just hanging out and flirting. Part of me starts to wonder if I could be the kind of girl who hangs out and makes out and then is all normal and pretends it never happened.

Or maybe I just wish I could be that girl for Dylan.

Or maybe I still wish I could be that girl for James, and it just feels good that Dylan’s watching me the way he is.

When he starts talking again, I’m staring at his lips as I think about the kissing and forgetting and the happy tingles and the wanting.

And then I remember James and Alyssa, and my sister’s stupid wedding. And I want to take Mom’s car and run away from all of it for a while. So maybe I shouldn’t be teasing Dylan about being spastic.

We’re nearing the end of Rear Window, which gets all kinds of intense, but it’s still not as intense as just sitting next to Dylan. I wish I could just get over it and kiss him already, but that thought sort of scares me still because it’ll end worse than with James. Even if it was a good idea, which it isn’t, there’s no way I’d have the guts to do it anyway.

But then, without thinking, my hand rests on the couch between us, almost touching his leg. What am I doing? Did I seriously just make a move? He’s so still, but I can tell he’s watching me because I can see him glance my way out of the corner of my eye. Now it’s hard to breathe, because I’ve sort of unintentionally made this awkwardness with my stupid hand.

In the movie, the bad guy breaks into the apartment right as Dylan jumps off the couch.

“Scared?” I tease, because it’s better than thinking I’m being rejected. Again.

“No… I gotta go. I forgot I have this… thing. Yeah, a thing I have to do.”

It’s total bullshit. I know it, and he knows it, which is why his body’s tense like he just drank ten cups of coffee. And now I just sort of want him to go.

“A thing?” I can feel my scowl, and I’m not sure how to stop it or if I should stop it.

“Yep. A thing.” His eyes hit mine, and I swear we’re having another moment where I love the way he’s looking at me and shouldn’t. He shifts his weight a few times before he turns and walks out.

As the end credits roll, I think I’ve just had the most confusing day of my life.

***

It’s the next morning, and I still don’t know what last night was. It was more like a date than anything I’ve done since I can remember. I don’t know if I wanted it to be a date or not. Part of me does, and part of me totally doesn’t. The self-preservation part is smart enough to know I’d be in way over my head with someone like Dylan. It goes back to the whole experience thing. First, knowing what happens when I like guys, and second, knowing my experience is a few kisses, while I don’t even want to see what Dylan’s list looks like.

This confusing guy stuff is what I need Alyssa for. I’m just not sure how to deal with her yet. Unfortunately, I have one day to figure it out, because school starts tomorrow.

I pull out my phone and dial. I mean, I can’t avoid her forever. We’ll all be back in school, and… and maybe I’ll have to watch her and James kissing in the hallways.

“Ziah? Finally! I’ve been trying to get through. I want to talk, and—”

My heart cracks again, and I hang up. I thought I was ready to talk, but I’m obviously not there yet. My phone rings almost immediately, but I silence it. Then get a text.

ALYSSA: PLSE Z. LET’S TALK, OK?

I’m not at all ready to talk to her. Or James. The guy who was supposed to be safe.

Dylan flashes through my head. Definitely more exciting than James. I’m not sure why I was stupid enough to think something might happen between us last night. I’m also not sure why I thought it would be a good idea. The damage done by James is probably tame compared to what Dylan could do.

First off, Dylan’s going to be my brother-in-law. Second, just LOOK at him. He’s not going to stick around. Third, I’m not myself around him. I’m not the girl who loses her breath when a guy gives her a hand out of a car or off of a car or really anytime. Four, he’s mental—totally fun one minute, then moody and quiet the next. Five, the fact that I wasn’t afraid to totally flaunt how I looked in that dress could lead to dangerous things for me. Six, I think last night sort of proved he’s not into me. I mean, I’m not an idiot. I think there was something there, but if he wanted it, he wouldn’t have taken off. And he did.

Once again rejected before anything got started. Which is good, because I really, really don’t want to start anything.

Lora comes in the front door, her stack of wedding magazines in one arm, and flops next to me on the couch. “Help?” she asks.

I groan as I sit up. This is not on my agenda. Moping is on my agenda. I’ve probably looked through all of these a million times. Announcements, flowers, party favors, pictures of honeymoon destinations I’ll never see…

“Look. I’m painfully aware that you don’t give a shit about my wedding, Ziah. You were mad about the dress and didn’t even seem all that excited about cake after the first stop. But I do give a shit, okay? If you need to talk to James to straighten yourself out, then do it. If you need to deal with Alyssa, then do it. But don’t ruin this for me!”

Her pile of magazines drops to the floor before tears start falling, and Lora spins back around slamming the door behind her.

What just happened?