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James naturally reenters his avoidance phase, and doesn’t even speak to me until two days later when another massive bouquet arrives.

“What the fuck?” he snarls. “It has to be Edward again.”

“He must be in luuuuuuv,” drawls Ginny. “Or lust.”

James ignores her. “I thought you were going to tell him to cut it out?” His voice is sharp with anger.

I feel immediate irritation at the implied accusation.

“I did,” I snap. “I’ve told him several times, in fact.”

“Several times? You mean you’re having multiple conversations with this guy?”

“He’s the one who keeps calling. And the only reason I ever called him back was because he said he had a job for me.” I open the card. It says ‘I hope you’ll change your mind’, followed by some sonnet I think is Shakespeare. If Max were here, he’d undoubtedly know.

James rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I bet he had a job for you alright.”

“Be an asshole about it all you want,” I say. “And you’re right. It was a total ruse to get me to come see him. But unlike you, I know what I want, and I don’t turn down potential opportunities the second they make me uncomfortable.”

I can tell by the look on his face that he knows exactly what I’m referring to.

He’s about to respond just as Max walks out of his room, yawning. “Can you two keep your lovers’ quarrels restricted to the outside of the house?” he asks, and then he notices the flowers. “Wow. I know you give an amazing blowjob, Elle, but that’s … ”

There’s a sickening thud as his body hits the wall. James has him pinned by his throat, and it all takes place so quickly that I stand speechless, my brain racing to make sense of what has just happened.

“And how,” says James, his voice lethal, his grip crushing, “would you know that?”

Max throws his hands up. “Jesus. Settle down. I know because Ryan told me.”

Ginny seems relieved, oddly enough, but James still stands there, unappeased, holding Max to the wall as if he’s been frozen in that position.

“Let him go, James,” I whisper. “He didn’t do anything wrong.” James doesn’t budge. “Let him go,” I say more insistently.

When he finally releases Max, I turn and walk out, my face so warm that I can almost feel it pulsing. I hate this. I hate all of it. I can’t believe Ryan told Max that, of all things. I can’t believe Edward is still calling, is still sending flowers, as if we had some kind of torrid affair. Given how limited my experience is, this summer is beginning to feel like one long after-school special about the dangers of being a slut. If it weren’t for James’s continual presence, I’d be considering celibacy at this point.

**

Ginny asks the next night if I want to go down to Dewey after our shift. There’s an odd tension between us that is never entirely absent, though we act as if it is, so I agree. But I don’t really want to go, and I doubt she does either.

The whole endeavor is tinged with desperation, with our mutual fear that the friendship we’ve both counted on for our entire lives may be done whether we want it to be or not. It’s a conclusion that seems unavoidable as the night wears on. As her mysterious irritation with me grows. She’s spent the entire night pointing out cute guys I should approach, chatting up guys on my behalf even after I’ve made my whole-hearted lack of interest clear.

“I’m trying to help you out,” she complains, as I slide away from the most recent guy she’s dragged over.

“I don’t want any help,” I tell her. “I’m just not into it.”

“What’s your deal?” she asks. “I’m beginning to think you’re dating someone you just aren’t telling me about.” There’s something unhappy — bitter, even — in her eyes.

“Why would I do that?” I ask. “And how? When am I ever not at work or the house?”

“If it was someone in the house you could get away with it,” she says. It sounds like an accusation.

Does she know? Could she have seen me and James on her birthday? Overheard our talk on the deck?

“Ginny, I’m not dating anyone,” I say firmly. “In the house or outside of it.”

“I’ve seen you out with Max,” she says quietly. “You’re with him all the time.”

“Yeah, because you’re always at work and your brother wants nothing to do with me,” I explode. What the hell? First she’s accusing me of making a play for James, and now Max? I can’t think of anything in my past or present behavior that would lead her to this conclusion. “I’ve got my hands full with Edward as it is.”