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Or, “I’m coming back to America and donating one of my robotic surgical arms to Columbia University Medical Center on Saturday, so maybe I’ll see you.”
I just never gave him the chance, being the super rude one who never wrote back after the last time we corresponded.
And for all I know, Michael’s been back to America a dozen times since we broke up, to visit his family and whatnot. Why would he mention it to me? It’s not like we’re going to get together for coffee or anything. We’re broken up.
And hello, I already have a boyfriend.
It’s just…in the article, it said, Michael Moscovitz, 21, of Manhattan. Not Tsukuba, Japan.
So. He’s obviously living here now. He’s here. He asked to read my senior project, and he’s here.
Panic attack.
I mean, before, when he was in Japan, and he asked to see my senior project, I could have been like, “Oh, I sent it to you, didn’t you get it? No? That’s so weird. Let me try sending it again.”
But now, if I see him, and he asks…
Oh my God. What am I going to do?????
Wait…Whatever. It’s not like he’s asked to see me! I mean, he’s here, isn’t he? And has he called? No.
E-mailed? No.
Of course…I’m the one who owes him an e-mail. He’s politely observed e-mail etiquette and waited for me to e-mail him back. What must he think, since I totally stopped communicating when he asked to read my book? He must think I’m the biggest byotch, as Lana would say. Here he made the nicest offer—an offer my own boyfriend has never made, by the way—and I totally went missing in action….
God, remember that weird thing where I used to want to smell his neck all the time? It’s like I couldn’t feel calm or happy or something unless I smelled his neck. That was so…geek, as Lana would say.
Of course…if I remember correctly, Michael always did smell a lot better than J.P., who continues to smell like dry cleaning. I tried buying him some cologne for his birthday, like Lana suggested—
It didn’t work. He wears it, but now he just smells like cologne. Over dry-cleaning fluid.
I just can’t believe Michael’s been back in town and I didn’t even know it! I’m so glad Dad told me! I could have run into him at Bigelow’s or Forbidden Planet and without having any advanced warning he was back, I might have done something incredibly stupid when I saw him. Such as pee myself. Or blurt out, “You look incredible!”
Providing he does look incredible, which I’m guessing he probably does. That would have been awful (although peeing myself would be worse).
No, actually, showing up at either place and bumping into him without any makeup on and my hair a big mess would be worse…except I have to say my hair is looking better than it ever has now that Paolo has layered it and it’s grown out and I’ve got a real proper hairstyle that I can actually tuck behind my ears and give a sexy side part to and put up in a hair band and all. Even teenSTYLE agreed about that in their year-end fashion Hot and Not columns. (I was in the Hot columns for once instead of the Not. I so owe Lana.)
Which isn’t why Dad told me about Michael coming back, of course (so I can make sure I look Hot at all times now, in case I run into my ex).
Dad says he told me so I wouldn’t be caught off guard if the paparazzi asked me about it.
Which, now that there’s been this press release, is bound to happen.
And there was no need to provide that quote for me from the Genovian press office—that I’m truly happy for Mr. Moscovitz and so glad to see that he’s moved on, like I have. I can make up my own quotes for the press, thank you very much.
It’s fine. He’s back in Manhattan, and I’m totally okay with that. I’m more than okay with that. I’m happy for him. He’s probably forgotten all about me, much less about asking to read my book. I mean, senior project. Now that he’s a bazillionaire robot-arm inventor, I’m sure a silly e-mail exchange with a high school girl he used to date is the last thing Michael is thinking about.
Honestly, I don’t care if I ever see him again. I have a boyfriend. A perfectly wonderful boyfriend who is, even now, planning a completely romantic way to ask me to the prom that won’t involve painting a brown horse white. Probably.
I’m going to bed now, and I’m going to go to sleep right away, and NOT lie awake half the night thinking about Michael being back in Manhattan and having asked to read my book.
I’m not.
Watch me.
Friday, April 28, Homeroom
Uck, I feel awful, and I look terrible, I was up all night freaking out about Michael being back in town!
