The Girlfriend Project (14 page)

Ronnie touches my face. "Like you?"

I nod. "Like me."

I think back to four years ago. Ronnie was extra-protective of me after what happened with Marsha. She made herself available
for every school function, every party, every football game, every dance, every movie night, every pep rally, every event
that year. You'd almost think we were going out if you didn't know we were just friends.

"Marsha doesn't know what she's missing," she'd say to me. "Don't worry about her, Reed, we'll show her."

And I guess we did. I don't think I appreciated what Ronnie did for me. Mostly, I was miserable over Marsha. But I appreciate
it now.

Ronnie stares down at her lap.

I raise her chin. "What's the matter?"

"I'm thinking of all the guys I rejected, like, back to second grade. I feel really bad about it."

"What would make you feel better?"

"This," she says, kissing me.

"I didn't know, Reed," she says.

I'm not sure what she's talking about at first, but it soon becomes obvious.

"Is that. . . what I did to you?" she goes on.

I'm not sure how to answer. A girl who can squash you so badly probably wouldn't understand how much it hurt in the first
place.

I start to mumble something, but Marsha says, "You . . .

You've really changed the way I see things, Reed. I wanted to tell you."

She seems so sincere about it. I have trouble believing it, but maybe it's true.

I clear my throat. "I'm . . . I'm glad to hear that, Marsha."

She smiles shyly. "You're great, Reed. If you ever change your mind, let me know."

"They're going to announce the winner tomorrow," she replies. "Very, very nerve-wracking."

I pause, chewing my blondie thoughtfully. "You really think a motto can change an image, Grandma?"

I hesitate, then say, "It's a . . . starting point."

"Correct," she answers, then declares, "NewJersey: Where Grandson Geniuses Are Born and Bred."

"New Jersey," I reply with a grin, "Where Grandmothers Rock and Rule."

She laughs, and I grab another blondie and head to Ronnie's house.

The only hours I don't spend with Ronnie, in fact, are the hours I spend sleeping, but even then she's the star of some interesting
dreams.

But it's still not enough for me. I want her intravenously.

I'm in love. I know it.

This is what I've been waiting for. This is what I've been searching for.

When Ronnie answers the door, I pull her into my arms. "I missed you," I whisper.

Ronnie snorts. "It's only been five minutes since we saw each other."

I bury my face in her hair. "I can't stand being away from you for even one minute."

"I think you're obsessed with me, Reed," Ronnie says, pulling back to gaze at me.

"Of course I'm obsessed with you," I reply.

"Nope."

She sighs. "Reed, I've been thinking about this. I worry . . ."

"What's there to worry about?" I ask, pulling her back into my arms.

She talks into my collar. "Don't you think things are getting kind of. . . intense? Living next door to each other and all?"

"That's the beauty of it, Ronnie, you're the girl next door."

She sighs into my shoulder. "Oh, Reed . . ."

"Can someone pass the barf bag?" Lonnie says, entering the room. "Some people are trying to digest around here, you know."

Ronnie smirks. "Digest in another room," she says, but she quickly disentangles herself from me.

Even after a month has gone by, I'm still struggling to navigate this whole dating-your-best-friend's-sister thing. It's become
harder now that Deena's dumped Lonnie. I know he's trying to be a good sport about me and Ronnie, but I also catch him scowling
at us every once in a while. I can't blame him. After all, it's almost like he's lost the two of us. I wish I had a clue how
to deal with it, but I don't.

"Dude, can I talk to you?" Lonnie asks. He shoots Ronnie a look of annoyance. "Privately?"

Ronnie holds up her hands. "Hey, don't ever say I came between two guys trying to bond."

"We ain't gonna bond, we're gonna talk."

"Even better."

I follow Lonnie up to his room. He shuts the door.

"What's up?" I say, sitting uneasily on the edge of his bed.

Lonnie paces back and forth in front of me. "Look, dude, this ain't gonna be easy."

"I've been thinking," Lonnie says, his pacing growing more frantic. "Like, the way you used to be, your identity. Remember
when we talked about identity? About image? You know, like the Jersey motto?"

I'm trying my best to follow this stream of consciousness, but I can't.

"Um," I say, "I don't think I'm . . . getting it, Lonnie. Sorry."

He looks at me with a pained expression. "Dude, you gotta understand this!" He runs his fingers through his hair distractedly.
"You pretended not to want girls for four years. Right?"

"Right," I say, just to go along. I still don't know what he's getting at.

"Um," I say.

He holds out his hands. "Dude! Help me out here!"

I stammer, "You—You . . . were keeping up an image . . . of wanting girls."

"Yeah! Yeah!" he cries excitedly.

"And I was . . . keeping up an image too. But mine was the opposite of yours?"

"Yeah! Yeah!"

"So, now we're still at opposites, only the other way around?"

"Exactly," he says, punching the air.

We're both quiet for a few seconds. "So . . . ," I say.

"So I'm going to take a break for a little while."

"From . . . girls?"

"You nailed it, dude."

"Huh," I comment, which is far from brilliant, but it's something.

Lonnie looks embarrassed. "You know, Reed, I'm still not sure about you and Ronnie. But, well, you're an okay guy. No matter
what happens."

"Nothing's going to happen," I say in irritation, getting up. Right?

See, the day after the stupid ape broke up with Ronnie, predictably, he called to say he'd changed his mind. I wanted to cheer
when Ronnie hung up in his face. Come to think of it, I did cheer. Pretty loudly too.

Then the champagne truffles arrived (thanks, muscle man, they were pretty good), then the ridiculous singing telegrams, then
the teddy bears in pink tutus . . .

Could the guy be any more pathetically desperate?

I mean, I realize it can't be easy for him to witness the awesome spectacle of me and Ronnie engaging in nonstop lip-locks
at my locker, at her locker, in the school cafeteria, after school, before school. . . .

Tough luck, Son of Kong.

Your loss. My gain.

Still, it totally freaked me out.

So, I almost busted a lung when, a couple of weeks later, I see Ronnie with Jonathan in an empty classroom.

I'm here to pick her up after her German class. We have study hall in the library together, and I always walk her there. But
instead of waiting for me by the door like she usually does, Ronnie's still inside the classroom, and there's no one around
except baboon boy, and he's standing real, real close to her.

I want to chuck him through the classroom windows, but I can't.

Why didn't I ever take karate? Kick boxing? Steroids?

The chimp chump puts a hand on Ronnie's waist.

Every drop of blood in my body goes ice-cold.

But Ronnie immediately removes Sir Hairy Gorilla's disgusting paw.

I want to give her a standing ovation. No, eighteen standing ovations!

She flounces away from him—leaving him staring after her with sad, puppy-dog eyes—and smiles when she sees me.

I take her in my arms and kiss her deeply and ferociously, but she resists me.

Jonathan slithers out of the classroom, throws me a look of bloody murder, and lumbers off.

"We're talking permafrost in Alaska," I tell Ronnie as we're driving to my sister's house.

"I'll warm you up later, Reed," she says, but it sounds distracted.

We're headed to Christine's place for her Tenth Annual Chocolate Extravaganza. It's a buffet party my sister gives every fall.
Don't ask me how it started, why it started, what it has to do with anything, or why it's always every November. All I know
is she's been doing it for ten years and nobody's complaining.

"Icier than the suds in a polar bear's Jacuzzi, Ronnie."

"I'm not going back to Jonathan, Reed."

"You promise?"

"Yes."

"Swear?"

"Yes."

'Are you willing to put it in writing?"

I'm joking. No, I'm serious.

"I would die without you, Ronnie."

"Oh, Reed," she whispers.

We're quiet the rest of the way. I can't believe I just said something so desperately, pathetically, horrifyingly clingy.
I'm no better than the Ex-Ape.

When we get to my sister's, I try to act cheerful, but I'm actually miserable. Maybe I overcompensate for this by being sarcastic
and annoying and offensive. For instance, when my nieces and nephews jump me at the door, as they usually do, I say, "They're
like horny golden retrievers, climbing your leg and making snorting noises and stuff."

This is borderline okay. My sister laughs, and my nieces and nephews start barking playfully.

But I don't stop there. "Maybe they'll sniff people's butts one of these days. And, come to think of it, they do eat off the
floor a lot and scratch themselves in inappropriate places. And the little ones do sometimes eat their you-know-what, you
know, the stuff that keeps the diaper companies in business."

My sister's mortified. Ronnie pulls me down the hall into the guest bathroom and slams the door shut.

"I know you're upset, Reed," she says. "But this isn't like you. Please stop freaking out."

I gather her into my arms. "Kiss me," I say.

"Not here, Reed."

"Why not?"

"Because we're in a bathroom at your sister's house."

"So?" I lean forward and kiss her hard. She pushes me away. "Reed, quit manhandling me."

"I love you,"

I say.

"Oh, Reed."

"I do. I've always loved you."

She touches my face. "Reed, you're the sweetest guy in the whole world. But. . . don't you know this isn't. . . forever?"

I narrow my eyes at her. "What do you mean this isn't forever?"

She looks at me sadly. "I'm your first girlfriend, but . . . I won't be your last."

It's as if someone's splashed ice water in my face. "Yes, you will. You'll be my only one."

She sighs. "Don't you know that when you get to Princeton girls will be breaking down your door?"

"I don't want any other girls. I love you."

"Stop saying that!"

"What—are you trying to break up with me?"

Why, oh, why did I have to say it? Why did I utter the words? If only I hadn't uttered the words . . .

She bites her lip. "Reed, I've been thinking about this."

"Thinking about it a lot, actually. I think, maybe, we should . . . go back to being friends. You . . . You . . . don't need
me. You could have anybody. I don't want. . . our friendship to be ruined. We've been best friends for so long!"

"Ronnie, I'm sorry," I say immediately. "I won't manhandle you anymore. I won't tell you I love you—even though I do. I won't
bring up Jonathan ever again. I won't do anything annoying at all. I promise."

"Oh, Reed, it's not that. We're neighbors . . . We have four years of college! This . . . wasn't a good idea."

"Well, I think it was a great idea. You're the girlfriend I've always wanted."

"No."

She shakes her head. "You can't say no to this, Reed."

I get desperate. "Ronnie, please, please, don't break up with me!"

"I'll still be your best friend!"

"But I won't be able to kiss you anymore!"

"Do you know how many girls are dying to kiss you? Why don't you give someone else a chance?"

And, for some reason, this makes me think of Marsha sobbing on my shoulder when she realized she wasn't going to be kissing
me anymore.

Marsha and Ronnie have a lot in common.

They both crushed me.

I walk out of the bathroom.

And I don't stop.

I think it stinks.

College means starting over. It means leaving home. It means not having your own room anymore. It means not seeing your best
friends anymore.

It means leaving behind everything that's important.

And I'm not even going out of state.

The night of the Chocolate Extravaganza, I left my sister's house and walked all the way home. It took me two hours and I
cried the whole way. I guess I forgot I had a car. When I got home, I crawled into bed, pulled the covers over my head, and
stayed that way for the next two days. Good thing the next two days were Saturday and Sunday.

Mom and Dad bring my car back for me, try to lure me out of my self-imposed bed rest all weekend, bring me roast beef sandwiches
and peppermint tea.

I tell them to go away.

Christine comes over with leftovers—chocolate mousse inside molded chocolate swans, chocolate casserole sprinkled with chocolate
marshmallows, chocolate lasagna layered with white chocolate creme, chocolate ravioli stuffed with chocolate pudding.