I explain, “It’s the study of two-dimensional art. I don’t know. It’s a pre-req for Three-Dimensional Design, which is a pre-req for pottery.”
“Are you a big fan of pottery?”
“In theory.” I shrug. “My parents have a big collection of Talavera pottery—mugs, plates, planters.Somany planters, you should see our yard. It’s a hot mess of color. I always wondered if I could make something like that. So I’m going to try.”
“Filmmaker, actress, artist. By my count, that makes you a triple threat.”
I roll my eyes at his compliment. “Truth be told, I expect to massively suck at all these subjects. It’s just for fun.”
“Not possible. You could never fail at anything,” he says confidently. Having that confidence aimed at me—aboutme—unsettles me in a way I can’t describe.
“You’ve barely known me a day,” I remind him.
“Hold on. You forced me to eat a sea insect onSaturday—”
“No one forced you, youinsisted.”
He continues without acknowledging my interruption. “And it’s now Wednesday. By my count, that makes five days.”
“Oh, my bad.Fivedays. Just enough time to know a person well enough to make sweeping statements about their capabilities.”
“Exactly,” he says. “And I expect to learn a lot more about you on our date Friday.”
As if the universe is mocking me—and hell, based on what I’ve experienced, I’m not in the position to count that out as a legitimate possibility—the moment he says that, I glance up and see Ellie walking in our direction, backpack slung over one shoulder.
I’m so jolted by the sight of him that I stumble. Alex grabs my elbow to help me keep my balance. I smile up at him gratefully, but I can’t help glancing back to Ellie, wondering if he saw.
If he did, he’s pointedly looking away now as he passes us.
I look up to see Alex following my gaze with an unreadable expression before he turns to me and asks, “You okay?”
“Yeah, sorry. Just lost my footing.”
We resume walking to class in silence. I’m so in my head that it takes me several moments to remember what Alex was talking about before I saw Ellie. Our date.
I’m flooded with guilt.
Guilt that it took two seconds of seeing Ellie to erase Alex and our date from my mind. Guilt at the thought of leading him on. Guilt that, as lovely as he is, I’m not sure I will ever be able to separate him in mymind from the man he becomes. Guilt that, while he has this unshakable confidence in me after knowing me only a few days, I keep thinking of him as nothing more than a distraction.
This boy deserves to be more than just a distraction.
And then there’s the flipside of my guilt: Is a crush really all it takes to erase fourteen years of history with Ellie? No. Definitely not.
“About our date…” I trail off, eyes focused ahead, trying to word this gently.
“Oh no, you’re bailing,” he says.
Shocked, I snap my eyes to his, catch his resigned expression.
“Am I that obvious?” I ask, grateful I don’t have to say it out loud but disappointed to get away with such cowardice.
“Honestly, kudos for doing it in person. I probably would have just sent a text.”
I stop walking and step over to the side of the path so we can have a modicum of privacy as students walk past. Alex follows me.
“It’s not—” I start.
“Pleasedon’t say, ‘It’s not you, it’s me,’?” he begs, and I laugh.
