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But he simply says, “All right, Stassi. Goodnight.”
Guilt sinks its teeth into me as I shut the door. I feel terrible. He gave me this thoughtful gift and I was abrupt. Also, a jerk. As I lean my back against the wall, I hear him go to his place and close the door. Immediately I begin thinking of all the ways I could’ve played that better—starting with a wardrobe choice that doesn’t make me look like a bag lady.
“You know, you’re making it worse,” Mad says.
I look over to see her staring at me, shaking her head with disapproval.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“I just know guys,” she says as I go to the couch and collapse next to her, carefully placing his gift on the coffee table.
I stare at her, waiting for the punch line. “Oh, you do? How did I not know you were the wise Knower of Men? Before Joe, you used to say that you were going to be a crazy spinster lady.”
Before Joe, we had a lot more in common. She and I used to agree that guys, as a whole, sucked, and that one should always proceed with caution around them. But apparently, Prince Charming Joe has completely changed her mind.
“Well, I’ll still be crazy. Anyway, I thought you were going to bed?”
“No. I just told him that so he’d leave. I’m going to read another chapter of my wonderful D book and eat all your noodles,” I declare as if it’s an edict handed down from on high, opening up my book with great flourish. But something she said gnaws at me, and I can’t stop thinking of the way he’d looked at me, those emerald greens piercing me deep. “What did you mean by I’m making it worse?”
She shrugs. “He’s going to chase you even more because you’re playing hard to get.”
I snort and glare at Doctor Zhivago. I don’t know if I’ve ever disliked a book more, but I have to hand it to him—it’s one hell of a gesture.
“He can chase me all he wants,” I say, “but he’s never going to catch me.”
14
Alec
Well, that was pointless.
As I step into my cold, empty apartment, I curse myself. I’m out $350, and for what? Did I really think Stassi would be so overwhelmed with gratitude she’d jump into bed with me for Round Two? Over a book?
Truthfully, deep down, I wasn’t expecting much more. Stassi’s too complicated to be wooed by a thing like that. That’s why I stopped by the liquor store on the way home and got a six-pack to keep me company tonight—I knew Stassi wouldn’t be.
I go to the kitchen and crack open a Sea Dog, taking a long, thirsty gulp.
Dread starts to seep in as I imagine spending tonight the way I’ve spent the last eight: alone.
Growing up, I was always the life of the party. The one people gravitated to. The fun didn’t start until I arrived, and it ended as soon as I left. I had a steady stream of girlfriends all through high school. I was never good at being by myself. But these past few weeks before I moved back, that’s exactly what I’ve been, and it’s gnawing at me.
The dark, seventies-paneled walls that surround me feel like they’re closing in.
Beer in hand, I escape to the balcony in the back, overlooking the quad. No one goes out here, especially since it’s winter and single-digits. People use their outdoor spaces as storage for their snow-covered grills and bicycles and whatever other shit doesn’t fit inside their place. All I have out here is a shaky lawn chair left behind by the previous tenant. I brush off the snow and sink into it.
I should’ve known one night of fun and a signed book wouldn’t be enough for Stassi to change her mind about me. They say actions speak louder than words, but those emails and notes I gave her all those years ago have done a hell of a lot of damage.
Despite all the shit I gave her back then, I wasn’t always awful.
Once, I’d noticed her in the computer lab, typing away while I was on the way to a hockey game. She was a studious freshman and this was before the whole Yours Cruelly thing started. I’d tapped on the glass to get her attention, but that didn’t work. So I came up behind her and gave her a little goose, and she jumped sky high.
“What are you doing?” I’d asked, teasing, like we always did with her.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” she’d snapped and went right back to work.
I’d been a little taken aback, since she never used that tone with me, but then I figured she was just in a mood.
So I’d watched her for a little while, remembering the times she used to tag along after us, always wanting to be in our shadow. We’d called her Static Cling. I thought I’d be nice. I said, “I’m going to the game. It’s the last home one before the championship. You want to come with? I’ll drive you to the rink and then you can get a ride home with your brothers.”
