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“Not that weird,” I say. “He and Lindsay started dating their senior year. And you know he was faithful to her right up until she left him at the altar. He wasn’t always. . .what did you call him? ‘Three-Date Owen.’”
“No, that came after Lindsay,” she says. “After she left, he was a mess. We went to help him get settled in his new place, and it was like he was barely functional. It took him six months to get back into training. And he told me he’s never letting himself get that serious about anyone ever again.”
We’re standing in front of the book shop when she says this, and I quickly hide my face in the alcove and open the door. I don’t know if Mack’s right or if this is still how Owen feels about relationships, but I don’t want it to be true.
Even though I know he feels nothing but friendship for me.
Being a hopeful romantic sucks.
I push the door open and walk inside, leaving all but one of the lights off so nobody mistakenly thinks we’re open. Mack follows me, and at her silence, I turn and find her watching—studying—me.
“You like him,” she says.
“Yeah, of course,” I say, my pulse quickening. “He saved my life. We’re friends.”
“No. Not just that. You actually really like him.” She eyes me. “Emmy, how long have you liked him?”
I walk behind the counter, as if putting it between me and Mack is going to help keep me safe. “I don’t like him.”
“I can’t believe I didn’t see this before,” she says, putting her hand to her forehead. “You totally have a thing for Owen!”
“I. . .did,” I finally admit. “I don’t anymore.”
“Emmy! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Are you kidding? You made it clear what you thought of Owen! And I didn’t want it to be weird. Plus, I didn’t ever want to say it out loud because it was embarrassing.”
“Why?”
“Someone like Owen was never going to fall for someone like me,” I say, matter-of-factly.
Mack reaches for my hands from across the counter. “My brother would be lucky to have someone like you.” She pauses. “But he definitely doesn’t deserve you.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say, squeezing her hands. “We’re friends. That’s it. He made it pretty clear. And I’m glad we’re friends. But you need to stop berating him, and you need to chill out about Lindsay.”
“She’s the worst.”
I smile. “Yes. I know. But he can take care of himself.”
She shrugs, and her eyes blow past me to the glass display built into the counter. “Ooh, can I have a muffin?”
I drop her hands and walk over to the display case, pull out a cinnamon crumble muffin and walk back.
“Did you really like him?” Mack asks, her tone serious.
I make an embarrassed face and nod but avoid her eyes.
I honestly thought I loved him, and a part of me wanted it to be like every book I ever read, an awkward girl ends up with a troubled guy, and both find each other against all high school odds.
“I wish you’d told me,” she says, breaking off the muffin top and flipping it over, making a crumble-muffin-sandwich like I showed her years ago. “You never have to be embarrassed around me. Not even when you show horrible judgment and fall for my brother.”
“Well, good thing it’s all in the past. You said it yourself—Owen and I are a terrible fit. I see that now.”
She takes a bite of her muffwich but doesn’t respond.
Probably because she senses that I’m trying to convince myself.
Which is what I’m doing.
