Love,

Nathan

That “Love” hits me. I know it could be a taunt or a tease. And I also know it isn’t a taunt or a tease.

Rebecca is calling me over to decide who gets the dress. Ben is pulling himself farther into the background, not wanting to get involved. Steve is holding up a Led Zeppelin record and asking Stephanie if he already has it.

I don’t reply to the email. Not yet. I need to think.

Rebecca gets the dress. Steve gets the record. Stephanie finds another dress that she says she likes more than the one Rebecca has. Ben spots a dictionary and starts talking about whether or not dictionaries, physical dictionaries, will exist in twenty years.

When everyone’s done shopping, they make some noises about hanging out more and eventually getting dinner.

I tell them I have to go home.

Chapter Seven

I don’t owe Nathan anything. He lied to me. Because of this, I should let it go.

But even if I don’t owe him anything, I feel I owe myself the explanation. I want to know.

I stay awake half the night, trying to figure it out. Then I get up and write him back.

Nathan,

This better be a good explanation. I’ll meet you in the coffee shop at the Clover Bookstore at 5.

Rhiannon

The bookstore seems like a good, safe place to meet. It’s in public, but it’s also a place Justin would never, ever go.

I already know I’m not going to tell him about this.

If I spent most of the night awake with my thoughts, Justin seems to have gotten plenty of sleep. It’s almost a good morning with him. When I see him, he doesn’t look like he wants to run away. He asks me how hanging out with Rebecca and the others went; I’m impressed because I didn’t expect him to remember what I was doing. He even listens to my response for about a minute. Then he grows bored—but I don’t blame him, because it’s pretty boring. It’s not what’s really playing in my mind. It’s not what I’m really thinking about.

Waiting. I can’t stand the feeling of waiting. Knowing I’m stranded for a few hours in the boring parts.

I check my email at lunch and find something new from Nathan.

Rhiannon,

I’ll be there. Although not in a way you might expect. Bear with me and hear me out.

A

My immediate reaction is that he’s not gay at all. And that his name must start with an A. He was hitting on me, and when I caught him hitting on me, he made up that he was gay. It explains the connection I felt a little more. Both magnets were working. I know I should be offended, but part of me doesn’t mind if he was hitting on me, especially because he was too sweet to do it all the way. It’s still a lie, and I’m still angry about that. But at least it’s a flattering lie.

I know Rebecca would love it if I talked to her about this. I know she is perpetually ready for that kind of conversation—she thinks friendships are built out of that kind of conversation. I sit across from her at lunch and I can see the question marks darting out of her eyes—does she know something is going on, or is she just hoping? Justin is right next to me, so it’s not like I can say anything. But even if it was just me and Rebecca, safely alone in her car, I’m not sure I would tell her. I like that it’s mine, and mine alone.

I get to the bookstore early and take a table by the window in the café. I’m nervous, like this is a first date. I know I shouldn’t be feeling this way—I’m only here for answers, not to get a boyfriend. I already have a boyfriend.

It’s amazing how many people will walk into a café area when you’re waiting for someone else. At least I already know what he looks like. I wonder if he’ll still be wearing a tie. Maybe that’s his thing. Maybe he’s really that much of a dork. I could be friends with that kind of behavior.

I try to distract myself with an Us Weekly, but my mind doesn’t even want to look at the pictures. A girl comes in and I don’t really notice her until she’s right in front of me, at my table, sitting down.

Rude. “I’m sorry,” I say. “That seat’s taken.”

I’m expecting her to tell me she’s sorry and move on. But instead she says, “It’s okay. Nathan sent me.”

Weird. I take a good look at the girl—her Anthropologie top, her Banana Republic pants—and figure she’s not evil. But her presence is still confusing.

“He sent you?” I say. “Where is he?” Was he so scared that I’d be pissed that he brought reinforcements? Total dork move. I look to see if he’s watching us, if he’s waiting to see if it’s safe to show his face. But he’s nowhere in sight.

“Rhiannon,” the girl says. I turn back to her and she’s looking right at me. Unsettling. There’s something big she’s not telling me. She’s both excited and terrified to tell me. It’s all there in her eyes.

I don’t look away.

I am not ready for this, whatever it is.

“Yes?” I whisper.

Her voice is calm. “I need to tell you something. It’s going to sound very, very strange. What I need is for you to listen to the whole story. You will probably want to leave. You might want to laugh. But I need you to take this seriously. I know it will sound unbelievable, but it’s the truth. Do you understand?”

What have I gotten myself into? What’s going on here? It doesn’t even occur to me to leave. No. This is now my life. Whatever she’s about to say is going to be my life.