Girlfriend Material (24 page)

“Totally,” I said.

“I’m thinking about coming up to Cape Cod next week.”

“You are?”

“Well, my class is over on Thursday and then I’m just … hanging around here. And New York sucks in summer. Nobody’s here.”

“Sure,” I said. “That’s because they’re all here.”

Meg laughed. “Anyway, Tina invited me, so if it’s okay with you, I think I’ll come.”

It was cool how my mom and my sister had both asked what I wanted for the rest of my summer. I mean, I’m not sure that Meg would have said okay if I’d said
Don’t come
, but still—at least she pretended it was up to me.

“Yeah, sure,” I said. “It would be great if you came.” I wasn’t totally lying either. If something was going to go down with our parents, I wanted Meg to be in the room with me when I heard about it.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll check train schedules and let you guys know in the next couple of days.” “Great,” I said. “I’ll talk to you soon.” Talking to Meg made me feel antsy. What was going to happen to my family?

I walked to the window and back to the bed, but the room wasn’t exactly big enough for serious pacing. The second time I crossed it, my eyes landed on the pile of note cards in the basket, and I remembered that before leaving Salt Lake City I’d promised to write Laura a postcard every day. It was as if I’d made that promise in a different lifetime. Should I call her? If I waited any longer to fill her in on what was happening in my life, we’d run through all my minutes for the rest of the year. Where would I start? Adam? My parents? Brad?

I grabbed a card off the top of the pile and opened it.
This town has witnessed the most bizarre/awful experiences of my life
, I wrote.
Call me when you have at least ten hours to talk.
And then I added,
I miss you
. Writing her name and address on the envelope felt good. Familiar. And it was true. I did miss Laura.

I showered and dressed and went downstairs, carrying the card with me. I’d bring it to the post office later. Nobody was home and I stood on the porch and ate a banana, looking out at the view. It was a gorgeous sunny day, the sky a crisp bright blue, with a just a few clouds floating high above me. It was so perfect that if someone had shown me a painting of the scene, I would have said it was clichéd.

I headed down to the beach and sat on the warm sand, remembering how at one time the view had creeped me out. Now it made me feel calm.

Looking out at the water, I tried not to think about what was going to happen with my parents. There was nothing I could do about it either way. I stretched out my back, reaching my arms up to the sky. And there was nothing I could do about Adam either. As I made my way up the path to the house I accepted reality: David would tell Adam what I’d said, Adam would think I was a loser, we’d avoid each other until I left, end of story.

Only Lady Brett Ashley gets to be Lady Brett Ashley.

There was one problem, though. If Adam and I were going to avoid each other for the rest of the summer, what was he doing standing on the deck of the Cooper-Melnick house?

I’d gotten almost to the stairs before I saw him. “Hi,” he said. “Hi,” I said. He was wearing a flannel shirt and jeans and hiking boots that appeared to actually have been hiked in, and he looked so cute it made my throat ache. I realized David hadn’t lost any time telling Adam what I’d told him. Clearly Adam had decided it was only fair to come by and explain that I should probably get over him since he’d been in New Hampshire reconciling with his girlfriend.

“So, can I tell you the weirdest thing?” he said, and he sat down on the top step. “Um, sure,” I said, even though I’d had more than my fair share of weird lately. “Okay, I went up to New Hampshire to—” Did he think nobody had told me Molly was in New Hampshire for the summer? “I know why you went to New Hampshire,” I said. “You do?” he said, genuinely surprised. “More or less,” I said. Was there any way I could pretend I’d never said those things to David? When you came down to it, it was David’s word against mine. Then again, why would David make up a story like that?
Dude, I don’t know. Clearly your brother has something
seriously
wrong with him.
The silence stretched out between us.

“Um, when did you get home?” I asked. He really hadn’t been gone very long. Suddenly a terrible thought occurred to me: could he have gone to New Hampshire to pick Molly up and bring her to Cape Cod? I remembered Jenna and Sarah talking the day of the whale watch.
I think she’s probably coming up in August like usual.
My stomach lurched.

“I haven’t even been home yet,” said Adam. “I just came straight here.”

Wait … was it possible David hadn’t said anything about our “conversation” yesterday? I gave Adam a long look, trying to figure out what exactly he knew. But he was looking past me at the water over my shoulder.

“Oh,” I said. If he didn’t know yet, I could play it cool, pretend everything between us was just fine, that I’d ended things because I just wasn’t into him anymore. “Well, it’s … it’s great to see you.”

“Why am I not believing you?” he asked.

Okay, this was completely hopeless. Even if he hadn’t heard about what I’d said to David yet, he would soon. “What do you want, Adam? Why are you here? I know you went to New Hampshire to get back together with Molly.”

Adam suddenly burst out laughing, but I didn’t exactly see what was so funny, and I didn’t feel like talking to him anymore. I turned to go the long way around so I could get into the house by the side door.

“Wait,” he said. “Please. Wait.” In spite of myself, I stopped. “Look,” he said, “I don’t know what you think you know, but … I did go to New Hampshire to see Molly.” I turned to face him. “And you’re telling me this because …”

“Because I thought you might like to know that the reason I drove to New Hampshire to see Molly was that I thought it wasn’t nice to break up with her on the phone.”

“You—”

“And then last night, when I was on the first night of what turned out to be the world’s shortest solo fishing trip, my brother called and told me some girl had told him she was really into him, only he had this idea that maybe she was really saying she was into
me
.”

We looked at each other. “You broke up with Molly?” “I broke up with Molly.” I squinted at him suspiciously. “Why did you break up with Molly?” “Because I knew I really liked you. And I figured even if you didn’t like me back, I couldn’t get back together with Molly when I’d met another girl I liked as much as I liked you.”

Was this really happening? This couldn’t really be happening. “Wait,” I said. “Why didn’t you tell me you liked me if you liked me so much? I mean, why didn’t you tell me before?”

Adam looked down at the porch step, and as he toyed with a long splinter of wood, I was reminded of myself on the deck with David. “Why didn’t
you
tell
me
you liked
me
if you liked me so much?” he asked finally, still picking at the pale gray wood.

“I did,” I said. “I mean, I tried to. I just told the wrong guy.”

Adam stopped studying the step and looked up at me. “I was embarrassed, okay? It’s hard to say what you feel. Especially when the other person says she doesn’t want to, you know, hang out with you anymore.”

I couldn’t help smiling. “Hang out? That’s pretty lame, Carpenter.”

He ran his fingers through his hair and groaned. “Are you gonna cut me some slack here or what?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I said, folding my arms and cocking my head at him. “I mean, do I really want a boyfriend who needs me to cut him slack?”

Adam crossed his arms and stared back at me. “I have other qualities,” he said.

“Such as?” I asked.

He thought for a second. “I’m a pretty good tennis player,” he said.

“Negative,” I said. “As I remember that game, I kicked your ass.”

“True,” he acknowledged. Then he said, “I’m a decent kisser.”

I could feel myself blush, both at what he’d said and at the memory of kissing him.

“Oh really?” I pretended to be thinking, then said, “I can’t quite recall.”

“Might I be so bold as to offer to refresh your memory?”

“Oh, I suppose,” I said.

He was down the stairs in a matter of seconds, and our arms were around each other and we were kissing. Each time one of us went to pull away, the other would pull the person back. The kiss seemed to last forever.

Finally we came up for air.

“Not bad,” I said. “Not bad at all.” My vision was blurry and my voice shook.

“Hey,” he said, like he’d just thought of something, “why did you think I’d come here?” He kissed his way up my jaw.

“I thought you were paying … I don’t know, a courtesy call or something,” I said, only half thinking about the words as I felt his lips on my ear.

Keeping his arms around my waist, he pulled away. “A courtesy call?! What are we, in a Jane Austen novel?”

When he put it that way, I had to admit my idea had been a little nuts. I shrugged.

He shook his head. “I don’t know, Draper,” he said. “Do I really need a girlfriend who’s certifiably crazy?”

I pulled him to me, and we kissed again, melting into each other. “You’re right,” I said into his lips. “Maybe we should just, you know, hang out. You’re not looking for some big serious thing, are you?”

“You’re hilarious,” he said, running his hand up my back. “I hope you’re prepared for me to come skiing in Salt Lake this Christmas.”

“I just hope you ski better than you play tennis,” I said, digging my hands into his hair.

“I’m a great skier,” he said. “Expert. You’ll see. Maybe I couldn’t beat you at tennis, but I vow to leave you in the dust as we make our way down the mountain.”

“Oh, Adam,” I said, laughing. “Isn’t it pretty to think so?”

As I said the words, Adam’s lips met mine again, and I realized that for the first time ever, I didn’t wish I could feel the way Lady Brett Ashley did.

I wished, for her sake, that she could feel like me.

Acknowledgments

This book and its author have relied heavily on the kindness of friends and strangers whose generosity cannot be overstated. Thank you, Jennifer Besser, Donna Bray, Rebecca Friedman, Benjamin Gantcher, Bernie Kaplan, and Helen Perelman.