The Upside of Unrequited

21

“HEY! YOU’RE NOT GROUNDED,” REID says when I walk into work.

“Not yet. I don’t know.” I settle down next to him on the floor of the baby section. There are baby shoes everywhere. “What happened here?”

“Toddler rampage.”

“Uh-oh.”

“This place is literally birth control,” he says.

I smile faintly, settling in beside him to stack a few shoe boxes.

“Seriously,” he says, after a moment. “Is everything okay? Mina told Olivia you seemed upset.”

“You talked to Olivia?”

“She texted me.”

My stomach drops. “Right.”

There are approximately fifty billion things I want to ask him right now, like: When did you and Olivia exchange numbers? Do you like her? And especially this: Do you like her better than me?

“Hey, guys.” I look up, and it’s Deborah. “Is my muscle team available? We just sold the barnwood bookcase.” She pumps her fist.

“We’re on it.” Reid jumps up and extends his hand to me.

I take it.

He squeezes my hand softly before letting go. And Olivia doesn’t exist right now.

Until I see her by the checkout, her blue-streaked hair perfectly tousled. She’s wearing a T-shirt and jeans, and carrying what looks like a camera case.

“You bought a bookcase?” I ask.

She laughs. “Uh, no. I’m looking for a picture frame. And saying hi.”

“Hi,” Reid says, smiling.

“The woman’s just pulling her car around.” Deborah rests her hand for a moment on Reid’s shoulder.

We carry the bookcase in silence, and I sense Reid looking at me quizzically. But I don’t want to speak. I don’t trust my voice right now. I can’t believe Olivia’s here. She’s here. And I don’t think it’s because of me.

“Did you find your frame?” Reid asks her when we step back inside.

“I did! What do you think?”

Of course she picked my favorite frame in the entire store. I mean, she’s Olivia. It’s wood, painted pale blue, with clusters of tiny hand-painted flowers.

“It’s for your moms,” she says. “Did you hear I’m taking pictures at the wedding? Actually, I’m heading over there in a sec to take some test shots. I’ve got my Canon.” She pats the case at her hip.

“Your cannon?” Reid asks. He pantomimes an explosion.

“My camera.”

“Oh, right,” he says. “So, hey, I was just thinking. My friend Douglas is kind of a techie, and he’s starting to get interested in cameras and photography. I was wondering if maybe you could talk to him?”

OKAY, IS FUCKING EVERYONE INTO PHOTOGRAPHY THESE DAYS?

“Totally,” Olivia says.

“Actually, Will also does photography, and Mina’s learning, too.” I smile tightly. “So Douglas has a lot of options.”

“Oh, cool,” Reid says. “But if you’re up for it, Olivia, maybe the four of us could find a time to get together or something.” He glances at me. “I think Molly suspects Douglas doesn’t actually exist.”

“That is true.” I can’t help but smile a little.

“Well, I’m definitely up for it.”

“Oh, great! Let me text him.” He looks up at Olivia. “And hey, my shift’s ending in a minute. Do you want me to walk you to Molly’s house?”

“Aww, that would be great.”

Oh my fucking goodness. So, this is happening. Right before my eyes.

I mean, that’s how it’s going to be. It’s that easy for Olivia. Maybe this is what life is like for most girls.

I should smile. I should act normal. I should melt into the floor and disappear.

I pull out my phone as soon as they leave. I never did write back to Will’s dancing bee ladies. I’ve never even considered texting him. But I will literally-not-literally-almost-literally explode if I have to sit around tonight imagining Reid with Olivia.

Kissing. Holding hands. Making out. Discovering orgasms.

What are you up to? I write, and then immediately delete it. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to make this not sound like a booty call.

I swear this isn’t a booty call.

Hey, Will? It’s Molly. I tap send.

Here’s what I know: I shouldn’t wait for a response. I should close the app, lock my phone, bury it in the zipper pouch of my bag, forget about it forever. I think messages from boys are like Santa Claus or Buzz Lightyear. They won’t happen if you’re watching them. But I can’t help but watch. I have such perfect laser focus, you’d almost expect the screen to crack.

A moment later, the screen refreshes, and a new message appears. A tiny miracle. Right as I’m staring at my in-box.

Oh hey what’s up?

A million competing thoughts: He wrote back. Right away. And he asked what was up. Like he’s wondering what I’m up to. But not in a booty call way. Or maybe this is a booty call. Maybe this is exactly how booty calls work.

At work, but—I take a deep breath—I was wondering what you’re up to later?

Three dots.

But then the dots disappear. I think he’s ignoring my question.

Oh God.

But. This is fine. Mortifying. But fine. I’m breathing. I’m okay.

God, he’s probably sitting with Max right now. No question. And Max is reading over Will’s shoulder and laughing and giving Will shit about the fact that I’m obsessed with him. Like, I’m 100 percent positive Will thinks I’m obsessed with him. And now he’s so freaked out, he doesn’t know how to respond.

Except.

Three dots.

Not much, want to hang out? When do you get off?

Oh.

Oh shit.

My brain goes foggy. Sure! Off at 4:30

That works, he writes. Want to meet at the takoma metro? I have an idea . . . And then he throws down the big cheesy smiley emoji.

Whoa.

What’s your idea? I write.

Wouldn’t you like to know, see you soon! he replies.

Will’s wearing a bow tie. I know that’s absurd. Even more absurd is the fact that he’s really cute in a bow tie.

“You have excellent timing,” he says, enveloping me in a hug. “I was home and bored as fuck, and Mina never replies to her texts anymore . . .”

So, Mina’s not available. And that’s why he’s hanging out with me. I don’t know how I should feel about that.

“She’s probably with Cass.”

Will smiles and shrugs.

We step into the Metro station—and for the second time in my life, I’m on an escalator with Will Haley. A train pulls in as soon as we step onto the platform.

“See? You have the best timing,” he says.

It’s crowded. I guess it’s almost rush hour. I end up mashed between a giant double stroller and a woman reading her phone. Will’s fingers are about an inch above mine on the Metro pole. Which is probably something I should obsess over.

Very cute boy. An inch away from holding hands.

I definitely shouldn’t be thinking about white sneakers in this moment.

We get off at Silver Spring, and step outside, and I don’t know how I managed not to notice how warm it is today. I probably don’t need my cardigan. But I wear it, like armor. Will walks down Georgia Avenue, smiling at me sideways, and then he stops in front of a store.

“Joe’s Record Paradise,” I say out loud.

“Yup. Paradise,” he says. He pushes the door open, and a bell jingles as we walk through. “This,” he says. He looks back over his shoulder, eyes meeting mine. “Take a look.”

There’s vinyl everywhere—organized on racks and shelves down long, narrow aisles. And in the back, the walls are, surprisingly, bubble-gum pink. They’re covered with framed band posters and album covers.

“Awesome.” I flip through a rack of albums without really noticing any of them. “You have a record player?”

“Of course I have a record player.” Will steps closer. We aren’t looking at each other, even a little bit. But there isn’t any space between us. I try to breathe normally. I have to admit, he has this ability to totally unsettle me. More important, he has the ability to make me forget Reid for almost five minutes straight. I timed it. Though, purposefully not thinking about someone might be the opposite of forgetting him.

“Wow,” I say quickly, pulling an album off the front of a rack. There’s a couple on the cover, and they’re completely naked. Pubic hair and everything.

“That’s John and Yoko,” says Will. He reaches out to take it, and then he turns it over to show me. The back of the album is a picture of their butts. “Pretty edgy, right?”

He hands it to me, and I flip it back over. The album is called Unfinished Music No. 1: Two Virgins.

Honestly, I don’t think they look like virgins.

Also: I guess this means John Lennon is officially the first guy I’ve ever seen naked. I try not to stare at his penis. I wonder if all penises look like that.

“You’re blushing!” He beams.

“I’m not blushing!”

“Oh, you so are.”

My mind is spinning. I think I might throw up. Because I can’t help it. I’m thinking about sex. Sex with Will Haley. Sex in general. The thing is, I can’t make my brain turn the idea into something sexy.

Isn’t that ridiculous? It’s sex. It’s inherently sexy.

But not to me. Because in hazily lit movies, when the girl pulls her shirt up over her head, she stops being me. The hazily lit girl is never me. She has a flat golden stomach and cute little boobs, and you can see the boy falling for her. You can read it on his face.

Under my shirt, there’s no flat stomach, and there are no cute little boobs, and there’s no hazy lighting. It’s just a lot of me. Way too much of me.

But the best thing about Will is that you can have a complete internal breakdown in front of him, and he doesn’t even notice. He’s chatty and goofy on the Metro. He offers to walk me home. And he doesn’t even live in Takoma Park. Not even close. He’ll have to walk all the way back to the Metro and take it back to Bethesda.

I can’t figure out what that means. Abby would definitely say he likes me, but maybe he’s just being nice. Maybe he just likes walking.

I tell him not to worry about it.

“Seriously, Molly Golly. I want to,” he says. “It’s getting dark.”

So I let him. We walk up Carroll Avenue, past the park, and my thoughts are a jumble. Will is walking me home. He basically insisted. And maybe that’s a really good thing. Maybe this is how it happens. Maybe we’ll kiss. This could be exactly how I stop caring about Reid. Maybe I should just. I don’t know.

Stop being careful.

I stop in my tracks, and Will stops a moment later. “You okay?” he asks.

I nod, dazedly. Deep breath. We’re right next to a gazebo. That’s probably a sign.

“Hey. So.” I squeeze my eyes shut. Open them again. And he’s looking at me with his eyebrows knit.

“Molly?” he asks. He takes a step closer. “What’s up?”

“Do you want to go in there?”

“In where? The gazebo?”

I nod.

He shrugs. “Sure.”

God, my heart. I can hear it.

He follows me inside, and when I turn to face him, he’s biting his lip. Doesn’t say a word. I don’t know if that’s a good thing. But I step closer. I don’t know how this works. I don’t know if I’m supposed to tilt my head up, or press my lips out, or do something with my hands. Where do my hands go?

But.

Don’t overthink this.

Don’t be careful. Don’t be careful. Don’t be

I take another step closer.

“So, I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” he says. Kind of loudly. Way too loudly. He steps back.

And oh.

There it is. Like a kick in the gut.

The first thing I feel is panic. Not disappointment. Not even humiliation. Just nausea and heartbeat and a total inability to catch my breath.

I don’t even want to run away. I want to evaporate.

“You okay?” he asks quietly.

Breathe.

“I’m good.” Sound happy. Sound normal. “Great.”

“Do you want me to go?”

“No!” Oh my God. “No, no. You’re good!”

He shuffles his feet. “I’m really sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? Don’t be sorry. I’m just.” I shake my head quickly. “I mean, I wasn’t trying to . . .”

“Oh. Okay.” He nods. “Right.”

And then it seems like we’re silent for hours.

“So, what were you about to say?” I ask finally. Before I tried to kiss you. Before you rejected me. Totally, completely, unambiguously rejected me.

“What do you mean?”

“You said you wanted to talk to me about something.”

“Oh.” He scratches his hair. “Um. It’s not a big deal. We can talk about it another time.”

“No, tell me,” I say, maybe too forcefully. Let’s erase the last five minutes. Let’s just rewind.

He presses his lips together. “Okay. Um,” he says. “It’s about Mina.”

“Okay.”

“The thing is.” I watch him inhale. “I’ve known Mina since kindergarten. I fucking love that girl.”

“Oh.” I’m sort of stunned. “So you . . . and Mina . . .”

“No,” he says quickly. “No, we’ve never. Ever. You know.”

“But you like her,” I say. It comes out like a breath.

He shrugs. “Doesn’t matter.” His cheeks flush. “It’s just—she really likes your sister. So Cassie’s got to be careful, okay? No heart breaking allowed.”

“Well, Mina’s not allowed to break Cassie’s heart either.”

“I’m serious,” he says, stepping backward. He sinks onto the gazebo bench. “I’m just saying. She’s very . . . tenderhearted.” He lowers his voice. “And here’s the thing. Mina’s never dated anyone before, never kissed anyone before. I don’t know if Cassie knows that. Just. Tell her to be nice.”

“What?” I gape at him.

“But you can’t tell anyone I told you that.”

I nod. “Okay.”

“Seriously, I will lock you in a room and make you listen to Maroon 5 for twenty-four hours.”

I actually laugh. “I don’t think I hate Maroon 5 like you do,” I say slowly, but my mind is still spinning. I can’t quite wrap my head around it.

So, Will likes Mina.

I mean, of course he does.

But the fact that Mina’s never kissed anyone before Cassie? Mina, who seems like she was built to fall in love. I’ve seen her talk about sex a million times without freaking out. But maybe, in her head, she was freaking out right alongside me.

Or not. Maybe she’s totally cool with it.

It’s just that this whole entire time, I thought I was the last virgin standing.

“I don’t think we have to worry. Remember them on the armchair?” I say.

“Yeah.” He blushes.

“Oh. Geez. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine.” He smiles slightly. “I just want her to be happy.”

“Yeah.”

He pauses, looking up at me. “Molly, I’m really sorry. I feel like an asshole. I totally get why you thought . . .”

“Oh my God. Don’t worry. It’s fine.”

“I just feel bad. I know I’m kind of . . . flirtatious, I guess, and it’s probably really easy to misinterpret that.”

I stare at my feet.

“I’m so sorry. I really like you, Molly Golly. I so want to be your friend.”

“Yeah. Definitely.”

My phone buzzes in my pocket. A text. But I try to ignore it.

“Can we hug it out? Would that be weird?”

I swallow. “It’s fine.”

He grins and stands and wraps his arms around me. And he hugs me so long, I’d almost think it means something. Except for the part where I know it doesn’t mean anything.

“You should head home,” I say. “Seriously. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

He hugs me again, quickly, before heading back toward the Metro. And for a minute, I just stand there, in the center of the gazebo.

I mean. That counts. No question. I’m officially rejected.

And it’s surprisingly . . . okay. Definitely awkward. But not earth-shattering.

I kind of wish I could tell Cassie.

I slide my phone out of my pocket, and I suddenly remember the buzz in my pocket. The missed text.

I wonder if it’s Reid.

But it turns out to be Abby, randomly sending me a left-pointing magnifying glass emoji. That’s something we do. We send each other the underutilized emojis. Just to help them find their purpose.

I respond immediately as I’m walking home: aerial tramway emoji.

Floppy disk emoji.

Leaf fluttering in the wind emoji.

I think I’m okay.

Except when I walk in the door, the first thing I hear is Cassie’s voice. And Mina’s voice. And Olivia’s voice. It turns out they’re all at the dining room table, which is covered in newspapers. Xavier’s still awake, and he’s on Olivia’s lap, holding a paintbrush.

Cassie turns her head away as soon as I walk in. Of course. She’s been avoiding me since yesterday.

“Oh hey,” Mina says. “I heard you were with Will! How was that?”

“It was fine. Great.”

God. Will probably told her everything. The gazebo, the kiss attempt, the shutdown.

“Well, I think it’s awesome.” She smiles. “So, you want to see something amazing?”

She picks something up from the table and holds it out to me.

“An elephant?” I ask.

Oh hey. The fucking elephant in the room.

Mina nods happily. “We’re painting animal figurines for the centerpieces. Olivia found a whole blog about it.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, so, we’re doing them all white, but then we’re decorating them with patterns,” Olivia says. “I was actually inspired by the plate you painted! And Xav is helping—aren’t you, bud?”

I just stare at her. There’s this pounding in my chest.

“I thought you hated crafts,” I say to Cassie.

“Oh, right,” Cassie says. “I forgot you’re the expert on me.”

“Cassie.”

“Should we get Nadine and Patty in here, so you can tell them how I feel about crafts?”

Mina and Olivia exchange glances. I feel my cheeks burning.

“Cass, I’m sorry, okay?”

“Do you want us to give you a minute?” Mina asks quietly.

Cassie smiles tightly. “Oh, we’re done.”

I swallow. “I’m heading upstairs. Want me to take Xavier?”

“Oh, no worries! I’ve got him.” Olivia grins. “Xavor Xav.”

Olivia’s smile. All of a sudden, my chest swells with rage. And a part of me knows it’s unfair to put this on Olivia. Because I’m pissed at Cassie, too, for giving me shit right now. And Will, for making me think he liked me. And Reid, for I don’t even know what.

Making me fall this hard. Not falling for me back.

But all I can think about right now is Olivia. Her audacity, calling Xav by his family nickname. Holding him in her lap and painting with him. That’s supposed to be my thing. And the fact that she’s sitting here making centerpieces for my parents’ wedding. Not even asking if I was cool with it. Not even caring that I have an actual design vision for this wedding.

The really messed-up part is that I love painted animal figurines, and they’ll be perfect next to the mason jars. Still. I’d really like to throw a tiny painted elephant at Olivia’s stupid face. And I don’t care if she just had a breakup. I don’t care if that makes me a shitty person.

I text Reid as soon as I get upstairs. So, how was your walk with Olivia?

It was good!

Great. With a period. Even though I’m perfectly aware that a period in this context is essentially like saying FUCK YOU FOREVER.

Three dots. He’s hesitating. Is everything okay? he asks.

Yup.

Okay, well, good.

My throat feels thick. I stare at my screen.

Three dots. Then no dots. Then three dots again, like he’s deciding whether or not to say something else.

Then another text: How was your afternoon?

Awesome. And clearly, I’m an asshole or an idiot or both, because I add, I hung out with Will.

Yeah, Olivia mentioned that.

My heart twists. Guess they’ve been texting.

Looks like things are going well with you and Olivia, I type. I stare at it for a second before pressing send.

For a moment, time stops.

Then, suddenly, he’s calling me.

“Hi.” I sit on the very edge of my bed, feeling jittery. I don’t even take my shoes off.

“Molly?”

“Yeah.”

“Should we talk?” he asks. His voice is so quiet.

I swallow. “Okay.” My chest tightens. I don’t know why this feels so much like fear.

“Are you mad that I walked Olivia to your house?”

“No,” I say quickly. “Why would I be mad?”

“I don’t know.”

We’re both quiet.

“It just seems like you are,” he says finally.

“Well, I’m not.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “So, did you guys make out, or something?” I try to sound breezy.

“Um. No. She went to your house. I went home and played World of Warcraft.”

“But you like her.”

“Do you like Will?” he shoots back.

“So, you do like her.” My whole body freezes.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t deny it.”

He pauses. “Neither did you.”

We’re both silent. And there’s this thickening lump in my throat. I feel nauseated. I actually think I might throw up.

“This is really unfair,” he says.

I need to just breathe. “What’s unfair?”

“You’re hanging out with Will, but you’re angry at me for hanging out with Olivia? I don’t get that.” There’s this catch in his voice.

“I’m not angry.”

“Okay, then why are we having this conversation?”

And before I can stop it, I’m crying. It’s the quiet kind. I don’t even bother to wipe the tears from my cheeks. I just let them slide down. I’m a fucking mess.

“Molly?”

I take another deep breath. “Like, I don’t get where this came from. You just met her this week.”

He pauses. “Are you crying?” His voice cracks.

“No.”

He does this quiet little sniff, and my heart beats wildly.

“I’m not dating her. Nothing’s happening.” I hear him swallow. “And I don’t understand why you care.”

“I don’t.”

“Okay.” He’s quiet.

“I mean, I care.”

“It’s fine.”

“I just—”

“I’m going to go.”

“Reid.”

He hangs up. And it’s like some kind of dam bursts inside of me. I flop backward on my bed, and I just start sobbing. I sob until I can barely catch my breath.