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BARRY
Thorne stared back at me from the camera of his phone. I’d made the grave mistake of telling him everything that happened surrounding Ella since we last spoke, and now he was on a rampage.
“Now, tell me how you plan to ask her out.”
I exhaled, ignoring the nerves wriggling in my gut like a bed of snakes. “I mean . . . isn’t it a little early for that?”
“You’re killin’ me, Bare.”
I shifted on my feet and stared out the window to the street below while I gripped the phone in one hand. Bat Man gripped his “perfect specimen of a son” by the shoulders, who was dressed in his baseball uniform, cleats and all, probably giving him a pep talk. “It’s just that I haven’t thought that far ahead.”
“You haven’t thought that—” Thorne snapped his mouth closed and glared at the screen. “You know you have to ask her out, right? She’s not going to just magically start dating you.”
“Yeah, I know, but . . .”
“Look, just keep it simple. At some point, when you’re talking tonight, glance over at her and say, ‘Hey, you wanna get a cup of coffee or something? Or ice cream?’ Whatever. Doesn’t matter. Just keep it simple and casual.”
“And if she says no?”
“Dude, she’s not gonna say no. What have I taught you these last months? You go into it thinking, knowing, she’ll say yes. Self-fulfilling prophecy and all that.”
He made it sound so easy.
I reached a hand to the back of my neck and squeezed the stiff muscles. “So if she says yes”—Thorne cleared his throat, and I corrected—“whenshe says yes, what do I talk about? I’ve never talked to a girl for more than five minutes, other than Penelope and Scarlett.” And my mother. But I didn’t say that out loud because I knew how pathetic it made me sound.
“What makes you tick, Barry?”
“I don’t know. School?”
“No. What’s something you love? Something you’re passionate about.”
“Astronomy. The stars. The galaxy. There’s a whole universe out there most people overlook,” I said, eyeing the telescope next to my window.
“Then you talk about the stars. Share your knowledge. Let her see that there’s more to you than the boy she sees every day at school.”
“But what if she thinks that’s lame?”
“She won’t. Are you kidding me? Girls eat that shit up. But that’s beside the point because you can’t change who you are, Bare. You’re a dorky t-shirt wearing, super smart, star-loving geek. And if she can’t dig that, then she’s not worth it.”
I nodded even though I wished I had a cooler hobby.
“What’s that look on your face?”
“What look?” I asked, nudging my glasses up my nose and holding the phone farther away from me.
“The one that says I’m wrong. Kinda looks like you ate something bad and might need to make a run for the bathroom.”
My face twisted. “It’s just, all this coaching and helping me with my confidence . . . Wouldn’t it just be easier to be different? To change or become more like everyone else?”
“You mean more like Luca.”
I shrugged, because she seemed to dig Luca.
“Dude. You can pretend to be anyone you want, but it’ll come off as insincere and you’ll be miserable. The only person you can be is yourself, which is a good thing because there’s only one of you, and you’re pretty badass.”
He was right. I knew he was right. And besides, I couldn’t be like Luca if I tried.
“You’re probably the only person in the world who isn’t related to me that thinks I’m badass.”
