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To All the Boys I've Loved Before - 24
Romance
Completed
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“I know they’re broken up,” Kitty says, making a lettuce wrap with just rice. “Margot told me over video chat.”
Across the table my dad makes a sad face and stuffs a piece of lettuce in his mouth.
Her mouth full, Kitty continues, “I just don’t see why we can’t still be friends with him. He’s all of our friend. Right, Daddy?”
“Right,” my dad agrees. “And look, relationships are incredibly amorphous. They could get back together. They could stay friends. Who’s to say what will happen in the future? I say we don’t count Josh out just yet.”
We’re finishing up dinner when I get another text from Josh. Never mind, it says.
* * *
We are stuck eating that salty pork shoulder for the rest of the weekend. The next morning, my dad makes fried rice and cuts the pork into tiny pieces and says to “think of it like bacon.” For dinner I test that theory by mixing it with Kraft macaroni and cheese, and I end up throwing out the whole batch because it tastes like slop. “If we had a dog . . . ,” Kitty keeps saying. I make a batch of regular macaroni instead.
After dinner I take Sadie the Sweetheart for a walk. That’s what my sisters and I call Sadie; she’s a golden retriever that lives down the street. The Shahs are out of town for the night, so they asked me to feed her and walk her. Normally, Kitty would beg to be the one to do it, but there’s some movie on TV that she’s been waiting to see.
Sadie and I are doing the usual route around our cul-de-sac when Josh jogs up to us in his running clothes. Crouching down to pet Sadie, he says, “So how are things going with Kavinsky?”
Funny you should bring that up, Josh. ’Cause I’ve got my story locked and loaded. Peter and I had a fight via video chat this morning (in case Josh has noticed I haven’t left the house all weekend), and we broke up, and I’m devastated about the whole thing, because I’ve been in constant love with Peter Kavinsky since the seventh grade, but c’est la vie.
“Actually, Peter and I broke up this morning.” I bite my lip and try to look sad. “It’s just, really hard, you know? After I liked him for so long and then finally he likes me back. But it’s just not meant to be. I don’t think he’s over his breakup yet. I think maybe Genevieve still has too strong a hold on him, so there’s no room in his heart for me.”
Josh gives me a funny look. “That’s not what he was saying today at McCalls.”
What in the world was Peter K. doing at a bookstore? He’s not the bookstore type. “What did he say?” I try to sound casual, but my heart is pounding so loudly I’m pretty sure Sadie can hear it.
Josh keeps petting Sadie.
“What did he say?” Now I’m just trying not to sound shrill. “Like, what was said exactly?”
“When I was ringing him up, I asked him when you guys started going out, and he said recently. He said he really liked you.”
What . . .
I must look as shocked as I feel, because Josh straightens up and says, “Yeah, I was kind of surprised too.”
“You were surprised that he would like me?”
“Well, kind of. Kavinsky just isn’t the kind of guy who would date a girl like you.” When I stare back at him, sour and unsmiling, he quickly tries to backtrack. “I mean, because you’re not, you know . . .”
“I’m not what? As pretty as Genevieve?”
“No! That’s not what I’m saying. What I’m trying to say is, you’re like this sweet, innocent girl who likes to be at home with her family, and I don’t know, I guess Kavinsky doesn’t strike me as someone who would be into that.”
Before he can say another word, I grab my phone out of my jacket pocket and say, “That’s Peter calling me right now, so I guess he does like homely girls.”
“I didn’t say homely! I said you like to be at home!”
“Later, Josh.” I speed walk away, dragging Sadie with me. Into my phone I say, “Oh hey, Peter.”
24
IN CHEM, PETER SITS A row in front of me.
I write him a note. Why would you tell Josh that we’re— I hesitate and then finish with a thing?
I kick the back of his chair, and he turns around and I hand him the note. He slouches in his seat to read it; then I watch as he scribbles something. He tips back in his chair and drops the note on my desk without looking at me.
A thing? Haha.
I press down so hard my pencil tip chips off. Please answer the question.
We’ll talk later.
I let out a frustrated sigh and Matt, my lab partner, gives me a funny look.
After class Peter is swept away with all his friends; they leave in a big group. I’m packing up my backpack when he returns, alone. He hops up on the table. “So let’s talk,” he says, super casual.
I clear my throat and try to gather my bearings. “Why did you tell Josh we were—” I almost say “a thing” again, but then change it to “together?”
“I don’t get what you’re so upset about. I did you a favor. I could have just as easily blown up your spot.”
I pause. He’s right. He could have. “So why didn’t you?”
“You’ve sure got a funny way of saying thank you. You’re welcome, by the way.”
Automatically I say, “Thank you.” Wait. Why am I thanking him? “I appreciate you letting me kiss you, but—”
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