What I Thought Was True

Chapter Nineteen

“Okay!” Viv calls, pulling over to the side of the road as I’m walking home from the Field House of Humiliation as the sun is finally sinking into the sea. She’s leaning over to whip open the passenger-side door. “Enough’s enough. Get in the car.”

“Is this a kidnapping?”

“Yes. In. Now.”

I jingle Fabio’s leash. “You sure?” Vivie knows all about Fab’s bad habits.

“I think he’s into marking wood and fabric. Not vinyl. And besides, I just delivered twenty pounds of spicy mussels in garlic broth and chorizo in this car after getting stuck at the bridge for forty minutes beforehand. Fabio can’t make the stench much worse. Get in now before I have to get forceful.”

I slide in, studying her sideways. “Do you have a weapon?”

The brakes squeal as Viv backs up, too fast, then charges forward, even faster. “My weapon’s my driving, and we both know it. I’m going to drive around with you until you tell me what the hell is going on between you and Cassidy Somers. I thought he was going to throw you down on the pier.”

“It’s not like that. Jeez, Vivie, slow down.”

“Gwen, it is like that. That guy looks at you as if he’d like to spread you on toast.”

I start laughing. “Toast? What?”

Vivien chuckles. “Okay. That was random. But I work in catering—we think in food. You know what I mean, though.” She shoots me a squinty-eyed look. “Because you’re doing it right back at him, baby.”

“Well, he jumped in the ocean to rescue a stuffed animal. Most guys would have shrugged. I was grateful. He was being nice.” I kick my feet up on the dashboard and the faulty lock on the glove compartment flips it open. At least eight speeding and overdue parking tickets tumble out onto the already cluttered passenger seat floor.

Vivien shakes her head, short, tight wound pigtails whipping against her cheeks. “Nico keeps telling me and telling me he’s going to fix that thing.”

“You’d be better off fixing the tickets, pal.”

She shifts in her seat, staring me down. “Yeah, no changing the subject. Nice? First off, that wouldn’t be the first word I’d pick for the way you guys look at each other. Also, you’re deciding not to hate him now? When did that happen?” She lowers her voice to a dramatic pitch. “And exactly how? Details, Gwenners. You’re totally breaking the friend code.”

I see the opening I’ve been waiting for and pounce. “Maybe you better recite that code for me one more time.”

“I must be informed of any and all events in your life as they happen. Most particularly, we must dissect and analyze every single one of them to pieces. Especially when we’re talking about your love life. How else am I supposed to know when to come over with a bunch of Ben and Jerry’s and when to take you lingerie shopping?”

“Ugh,” I say. “Count me out of that one. I’d rather face a firing squad than the mirrors in Victoria’s Secret.”

“I hate it when you down yourself, Gwen. You’re changing the subject and missing the point. I’m your best friend. I must know all.”

I fold my arms. “Must you, now?”

“Totally.”

“Is that supposed to be mutual?”

“Of course. Since when haven’t I told you every little thing about me and Nic? He’s still pissed off that I told you about that thing he does with his thumbs.”

“Gah, I could have done without knowing that. Jesus, Vivie . . .” I play with a stray thread at the bottom of my cut-offs. “Ring shopping?”

Pink slowly floods her cheeks, then moves down to the base of her throat. “I was wanting to talk to you about that.”

“Well, why didn’t you? I’m right here! We see each other every day! You couldn’t have said, ‘Hey Gwen, pass me another brownie and FYI I’m engaged to your teenaged cousin’?”

Viv shifts lanes without signaling, prompting a violent round of honking from the car behind her. “I . . . thought you’d think it was weird.”

“Well, it is weird. But what’s weirder was you not saying anything! And Nic not saying anything!”

“What about you not saying anything? How long have you known, anyway?”

“Forever. Like two weeks.”

Shouldering the car off to the side of the road, Viv turns to me. “Look. I’m sorry. Nic and I just decided to keep it on deep down low. God knows if Al heard he’d freak the hell out. So would my mom. I’d be in . . . I don’t know . . . a convent in no time.”

“You didn’t trust me to keep the secret?” I ask more quietly.

Her expression changes, hardens somehow. “No. I know you can keep secrets. Seems to be your specialty, matter of fact.”

What?

“I don’t know myself what’s going on with Cass!” I blurt out. “How can I tell you about it when I don’t even know what to tell myself?”

“I’m supposed to help you figure that out,” Viv says. “That’s in the friend code too. But I wasn’t talking about Cass. I was talking”—she takes a deep breath, squares her shoulders—“I was talking about Spencer Channing. When were you going to tell me about Spence Channing, Gwen? Ever?”

I slide down in the car seat. I can’t even look at her, my best friend in the world. This is somehow worse than Nic knowing. I clap my palms to my cheeks to cool my face down. “Viv . . . you’ve always had Nic. Always. You’ve always been solid together. Always. After what happened with Cass . . . not to mention me being so stupid about Alex and my dad finding us. I thought you’d . . .” I clear my throat, but can’t find any more words.

“You thought I’d . . . ?” Vivien reaches out to pull my hands down, turning my chin so she can look me in the eye.

“Think I was a slut. And if you thought that . . .” I pick at a piece of flaking vinyl. Vivien just keeps looking at me, until I finally say, “Then maybe it would be true.”

She bumps her head back against the headrest.

“Which is stupid, I know, but whatever,” I say.

“God, Gwen! Really? Come on! I would never think like that about you. I’ve had a lot more sex than you have. Am I a slut?”

“But it’s not like you and Nic. It’s not True Love. It’s . . . just sex.”

She looks at me for a long time, eyes troubled. Then asks, “Are you sure? Does Cass know that? Did Spence?”

I ignore the part about Cass. “Just sex is what Spence does! All he does. He was the one who came up with that attractive phrase.”

She makes a face. “That’s weird. Makes it sound like he doesn’t even like it. And he’s supposed to be this huge player. Was he, um, good?”

“What? I don’t know. I don’t remember too well,” I confess.

She makes a face. “That sounds like a no to me. How about Cass?”

I shrug. “I feel weird talking about this. Like I’m scoring them. ‘And the ten goes to . . . while the other two get considerably lower marks.’ Now I really feel like a slut. Plus there was Jim Oberman, freshman year.”

“Oh, stop.” She whacks me on the shoulder. “No one even remembers that. Plus, all you did was make out with Jim. And it was pretty much all him. He was a loser who had to amp it up to sound like more. The thing is . . . It’s just . . . I’ve only had Nic. No basis for comparison. I just wonder . . . a little . . . sometimes. I mean. Hardly ever. But, you know.”

My jaw practically drops. I never thought Vivien even saw anybody but Nic. I don’t think he sees any girl but her. I’ve never even heard him call anyone else pretty. Except me, which doesn’t count.

“About any guy in particular?” I ask carefully. Then I think Oh God, what if it’s Cass? I mean, how could it not be? Look at him. But that would be beyond awkward.

“No!” she says hastily, flushing. “Of course not! Why would you think that?”

“Because it’s hard to wonder about some abstract guy. Unless he’s like a celebrity or something.”

“Well, yeah, that’s sort of a requirement if you have a pulse,” Vivien says. “But no one I know. At all. Forget I mentioned it . . . And, shit, don’t tell Nic.” Her voice is suddenly urgent. “Promise me you won’t.” She reaches out and grabs my sleeve. “Swear, Gwen. Never ever let Nic know.”

“I don’t think he’d be jealous, Viv. He knows your heart’s his. Always has been. Always will be.”

“That’s right,” she says firmly. “Completely. Always.” But there’s a little waver in her voice and she doesn’t look me in the eye.