I got more and more nervous as the day of the contest grew closer. Kylie and Darren said I would be fine, but I had visions of passing out in front of the crowd or puking on stage. I tried to convince myself they were just nerve-induced visions and not any sign of what was to come. To help calm my nerves, I started wearing my bloodstone crystal all the time for self-confidence. At first I thought it wasn’t working, and then I realized I’d probably be in the psych ward without it. Brendon knew I was freaking out, so when we came home from school, he stopped and got a batch of my favorite organic peanut butter chocolate chip cookies from Leocadia’s Bakery and gave me a card to cheer me up. As I was opening the envelope, he put his hand out to stop me.

“Okay, don’t laugh, but I might have written you a poem. Why am I even telling you this?” he said and sighed. “Just read it by yourself when you get inside, okay?”

I was barely through the door when I started reading the poem. John, my ex, had given me a poem last year, but then I found out he e-mailed the same poem to every girl he went out with. Normally, he’d just changed the last line to rhyme with the girl’s name, but he couldn’t think of anything to rhyme with “Emme,” so he left the last part off. Brendon didn’t seem like the type to do something like that though.

To: Emme

Imagining a life without

Longing to be complete

Overcome by emotion

Venerated

Excited by the future

Young and old alike

Old memories awakened

United

Everyone thinks they know me

Most pretend to care

Many misunderstand my feelings

Everyone should be so lucky

Well, I guess it was romantic-ish. I wasn’t exactly sure what he was trying to say, but I guess I couldn’t expect something like, “I can’t stand to be without you, and even if one of us should perish, we’ll still be together, for our love is deathless, my darling, my sweet, my immortal beloved.” However, I’m a romantic and would have settled for “Looky, looky, I like you more than cookies.” I was just hoping for a more obvious “I like you” type of poem. I wasn’t expecting him to use the L-word yet, but it would have been nice to have the word show up there. Of course, John used to say “I love you” all the time, but at least with John, I could tell they were just words to him.

It was a sweet gesture that he had written a poem for me. Although I was going to pretend it was too private to share if Margaux wanted to read it. She’d tear it apart and say it was all about him, which it kind of was. It was a weird poem to give to your girlfriend, but the fact he wrote anything at all was romantic.

The phone rang, and I knew it was him. “Hey, I just finished reading it,” I said.

“And?” he asked. “I don’t know what I was thinking giving a poem to a writer.”

“I was completely prepared to lie to you and say it was good, but it actually is. I liked it,” I said. He seemed to be waiting for me to say something else, so I added, “Super good.”

He didn’t say anything, so I started talking about my Shakespeare exam. I knew he was looking for me to say something more about the poem, but what could I say? I wasn’t a hundred percent sure what he was trying to say, and I’d feel stupid if it seemed like I read too much into it. After all, I didn’t want him to think I thought one poem meant he was obsessed with me. I wasn’t going to make the same mistakes I made with John and take the “I love you’s he used to spout off and make them out to be more than they were. Never again was I going to let my guard down. Brendon still hadn’t said anything, so I figured changing the subject was the best thing to do.

At night, I went to lie down, and I ended up falling asleep, but I woke up with my heart pounding in my chest. My first thought was something had happened to Grandma, so I called the info desk and made them go check on her. The nurse sounded irritated, but then he always sounded sort of mad.

When I woke up the next morning, I realized dealing with Grandma’s stroke was hitting me harder than ever. I was starting to feel like it wasn’t worth getting close to anybody because it hurt too much when you had to deal with the fact they might leave you. And I didn’t want to even think about what would happen if Grandma died. I snuggled deeper into my pillow and wished I had someone to talk to about all this. Just then the phone rang, and it was Brendon.

“Hey, what’s up? I went for a run at five a.m., finished my calc homework, and went to the bookstore to start researching my psych paper,” he said.

He had accomplished all those things, and I hadn’t even sat up yet.

“While I was at the bookstore, I saw they had a new book by the astrologer you like, Holiday King. I don’t know if you’ll be as into this book because it’s about grief and dreams. Maybe it’s too close to what you’re dealing with, but I picked it up for you anyway,” he said.

I didn’t know she had a new book out. He said it was called It’s Better to Have Loved and Lost than to Have Never Loved at All.

I didn’t tell him that was what had been on my mind because I wanted to change the subject. Instead I told him he had perfect timing because I was freaking out over the reading in public.

“I’m going to have to get one of those meditation CDs or something because I am seriously on edge,” I said. Even though I was thrilled he had called when I needed him most, I was still feeling anxious.

“Wait a sec, it’s my other line,” he said. “Hold on.”

As soon as he clicked over, I started feeling like I was going to be sick. My stomach felt like it had rolled over, my heart started racing, and my anxiety shot up.

“Emme, you’re going to kill me,” he said when he got back on the line. “But Sam just called. He has pneumonia, and I have to handle the charity auction the night of your reading.”

“What? But you promised.”

“I know. I told Sam I couldn’t go, but now he’s sick, and there’s nobody else who can do it,” he said. “He said he called everybody he could think of, but there’s a play going on the same night, and half the student council is either in it or working backstage.”

I don’t think he realized how upset I was since I didn’t start screaming, but it was only because I couldn’t even wrap my mind around what he was saying. My whole body was numb, and I felt dead inside.

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” he said. “Listen, I have to go make some calls now, but I’ll talk you tomorrow.”

I reached for my aromatherapy soothing lavender stick to calm me and sat there staring at the wall until Rory called asking me what I was going to wear to the reading. I hadn’t even thought about it. I just wanted blend into the background so no one would notice me. Rory had it made because she always wore black, and she was so tiny she could wear anything and get away with it. Although maybe black wouldn’t be such a good choice in case I puked on myself. Of course, how much would it matter, seeing as no one I knew would be there to watch me throw up? I called Margaux, who said Brendon was being a selfish jerk and offered to go shopping with me to pick out a new outfit.

“You’ll feel more confident if you look good, and we can always find a weird outfit to distract everybody in case you wet yourself on stage,” she said.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“I was joking,” she said. “You’re not going to wet yourself. C’mon, we’ll go to the mall, get you something cool, and you absolutely have to get new makeup. Nothing says confident writer like cat-eye liner. Kylie and I are both coming to the reading, but we’ll sit in back so we won’t freak you out.”

* * *

On the night of the reading, Rory wore a sheer black T-shirt underneath a black jumper, with tights and clunky boots. The only color in her outfit was her bright-red lipstick. I wore an orange V-neck sweater I picked out with Margaux because I had read orange was supposed to be an energizing color. It was also supposed to be good for healing your love life, and seeing as mine was nearing the crapper, I needed all the help I could get. Plus, Margaux thought the glittery logo on the front would distract people. It didn’t say “serious writer,” but at least it was cute. Margaux felt women appeared more confident and powerful in red lipstick, so she picked out a lip gloss for me. It was a bright red, but sheer, so it wasn’t too obvious, and you could put a shimmery white color over it to make it extra glossy. It was called “Romeo and Juliet,” and I tried not to take it as a bad sign about relationships. Margaux told me to ignore the fact Romeo and Juliet’s relationship didn’t exactly work out and said, “They’re famous characters, and you write, so look at it as a positive sign.”

At the competition, they called Rory up on stage second to read, and she didn’t look the least bit nervous. Neither did Darren. Meanwhile, I clutched my bloodstone, and I went to the bathroom five times before I walked on stage. The essay contest had proven to be an effective laxative. The lights on the stage were so bright I could only see the judges and not the crowd, which made me feel a little better. Kylie and Margaux were supposed to be sitting out there somewhere with my family, but I had no idea where. They called me up next, and I was so nervous about messing up (and throwing up) that I didn’t even realize what I was reading. It was just a bunch of words on a page. It seemed like people clapped for me when I finished, but my legs shook so much I couldn’t even focus on anything other than getting back to my seat without tripping.

Rory, Tom, Darren, and I sat there while the judges talked. The restaurant had given us free coffee, but I hadn’t had a sip. I was afraid any caffeine would make me even jitterier, and I wanted to be calm because I had a strange feeling I was going to have to go back up on the stage. It wasn’t like I saw myself winning first place, but somehow I knew I’d go home with some sort of prize. Rory put her arm around me when one of the judges got up and announced the two fifth-place winners, who were from a different school. Then she read off the two fourth-place winners and announced Rory and I had gotten third place.

“We did it,” Rory said, hugging me.

Darren told us to go up on stage, and we both got twenty-five-dollar gift certificates to the bookstore next door. Tom didn’t place, but Darren won one of the first-place prizes and got a hundred-dollar gift certificate.

Kylie and Margaux came over to congratulate us. “You should use that certificate to get You Can Change Your Life Today. It’s like, the best book.”

Margaux said I should see if they’d let me use it to get magazines. “What did I tell you? The gloss was perfect under the lights, and the shirt was cute. Everybody else was all in black, and you stood out—especially since none of the girls wore lipstick—well except for the goth girls, but black lipstick isn’t quite glam.”

My mom came up to me and said I did a great job, but all I could focus on was how she was alone.

“Where are Dad and Grandpa?” I asked.

“It wasn’t one of Grandpa’s better days, so Dad decided it might be better if they stayed home. He wanted to be here, but Grandpa got confused trying to find the bathroom and had a little accident. No big deal, but Grandpa was upset and embarrassed, and Dad worried he’d get more confused if we took him to an unfamiliar environment.”

Darren came up and said we should go to the bookstore and spend our certificates. He offered to drive me home, so Mom gave me a hug and left. We went to meet up with Tom and Rory. Tom was complaining that the judges didn’t “get” his piece. I didn’t think that anyone did. It had something to do with nature and death, but so had everything else he had written in class. Darren found a collection of short stories at the bookstore, but I wasn’t sure what to get, so Tom picked out a book of author interviews for me. We all went over to the music section, and Rory put on the headphones to listen to a new release. Tom pulled me over to show me a CD he always listened to when he was writing.

“Ready?” he asked, putting the headphones on me. I nodded. He said it was Ingrid Gilberto. Rory started dancing in the aisle to an Anders Bortz song, and Darren joined her. We went to check out, and Rory bought a volume of poems that she had wanted for a long time. Darren ended up buying the short story book, an Edgar Allen Poe novel, and Travels with Charlie, and I bought the interview book.

“I need some food—big time,” Rory said. “What’s still open?”

Darren wanted to go to a diner, so we all got huge plates of pancakes, and Rory and the guys shared some bacon. Everything had worked out in the end, but Brendon hadn’t known it would. Sure, I had a good time, and I was thrilled I got third place, but I was still mad that Brendon had gone to his stupid charity thing after he had promised to be there for me. After all, I had gone to all the parties he invited me to, and I never asked him to anything which had been half as important to me. He knew how nervous I had been, and he still went to that auction.

Brendon called me the next day, but I didn’t pick up the phone. Later, my dad said he called on the house phone when I went grocery shopping with my mom, but I didn’t call back.

On Monday, Mr. Horowitz congratulated us in class. He gave the four of us each a book he had picked out especially for us. I thought that was sweet until I saw he had given me an Edith Wharton book about a spoiled brat who twisted mind games into an Olympic sport. Was this some sort of message? Darren got For Whom the Bell Tolls, Tom got The Sound and the Fury, and Rory got a book of May Sarton’s poetry.

“Our next assignment is sort of a book report, but I want you to focus on when the writing works for you and when it doesn’t. We’re not going to approach the book as readers, but as writers,” Mr. Horowitz said. “I was going to have you present them in front of the class, but, ah, well, we can just discuss them in groups instead.”

Everybody knew it was because the last time we had to get up in front of the class, this one guy got so nervous he got a nosebleed, and I have never seen a room clear so fast. I knew I’d have to work extra hard on my paper to make up for my crappy participation grade. I always sat there during class, nodding to show I was listening, but avoiding eye contact so I wouldn’t have to actually say anything. Mr. Horowitz always threw around names like Faulkner and made jokes only he could understand. Of course, there were always some butt-kissers who laughed like they understood him when I knew they didn’t. Tom used to cough, “Posers,” whenever anybody did it, which always made Darren and me crack up. After class, Brendon was outside waiting for me.

“Did your dad tell you I called?” he asked.

I nodded and continued walking.

“So how did the reading go?”

I told him I got third place.

“Congratulations! So were there a lot of literary types there?”

“I’m not a literary type?” I said. He started to answer, but I cut him off. “I have to go, Kylie’s waiting for me.” I walked over to Kylie and Zach and glanced back in his direction and saw he was still standing there. Maybe now he’d realize he couldn’t walk all over me and expect everything to be just fine.

Brendon didn’t call me at night. Either he didn’t feel like dealing with me or he just didn’t care. Maybe he thought this would all blow over, or maybe there was something on TV that was more important. Or maybe Brooke had come over to see his brother and flirt with him instead.

I saw him in the hall the next day, but I managed to avoid him. Instead I sat down and shuffled through my bag looking for my notes, but I found my Riley Turner watch instead. At the time I thought it was so sweet he had given me a watch because he noticed I didn’t have one. It seemed like he was being thoughtful and observant, but maybe he was just making fun of me for being late a lot.

“Hey, do you want to get some ice cream after class?” Darren asked, leaning over. I nodded, but I was curious whether Brendon would bother showing up after class. He did show up and said he needed to talk to me. Darren walked over and asked if I was ready to go. I motioned for him to give me a second, and he stared at Brendon as he walked away.

“Can we sit down somewhere to talk?” Brendon asked. I walked over to one of the benches and put my bag on the seat beside me so he’d have to sit across from me.

“Em, I’m sorry I missed your reading. I would have been there if I could have, but I had to fill in for Sam at the fundraiser. I know I messed up—big time.” He handed me a box.

I stared at it, and he asked me to guess what it was. Did he think he could just buy me something and I’d forgive him? I opened the box and inside was a chocolate egg decorated to look like a Faberge egg. It was gorgeous.

“When I told you I had a present for you for your birthday, you asked if it was a Faberge egg. Now I actually give you one, and you don’t—” He stopped when his phone beeped to let him know someone was texting him. Why was it okay for him to check his messages while he was apologizing to me? It seemed like the least he could do was look at me while he was talking to me. Maybe I was being too hard on him. After all, he had tried to apologize over the weekend.

“Sorry. Em. There’s just been so much going on with—”

“Brendon? C’mon, everybody’s waiting for you to get started,” Lauren said, coming over.

Wait, he was going to be with her after school? Lauren had another of her two-hundred-dollar tracksuits on. Only she could wear diamond earrings with sweatpants without looking like a rapper.

“Did you get my message before?” she asked as she reapplied her lip gloss and then smacked her lips. Why didn’t she just crawl on his lap and lick his face? “I wrote you right back.”

“I have to go anyway,” I said, getting up. “I’m meeting someone too, but thanks for the egg. I’ll see you later.”

My thoughts were spinning as I went to meet Darren. I knew I still liked Brendon, but I wasn’t sure about our relationship. I was afraid if I forgave him too easily, he would think he could treat me like crap and I’d put up with it. And why didn’t he make it clear to Lauren there was no chance of them getting back together? I felt like she was just waiting for him to dump me, and then he’d be with her—the way the popular people’s nature intended.

“Ready for a sundae?” I asked Darren.

“What’s in the box?” he asked.

“Candy. Come on, it’ll be your fault if they run out of decent toppings,” I said.

He asked what Brendon wanted to talk to me about as we got in the sundae bar line. I said he just wanted to apologize for not coming to the reading on Saturday.

“What’d you say?” he asked, pouring chocolate syrup on his ice cream.

“Not much,” I said, concentrating on not getting caramel sauce all over me. I was wearing my cream-colored pants, and those things were like a magnet for spills. “He just gave me some candy, and I thanked him and came over here.”

Darren took my bowl from me and went over to pay. I tried to give him money, but he waved me off. I promised I’d buy next time, and he made a joke about me assuming there’d be a next time. We sat down to eat and talked about the new story he had started for class. I hadn’t come up with a subject yet for the short story, but he was already halfway through his first draft. He asked if he could see the candy Brendon had given me. I handed him the box, and he glanced at it and handed it back to me.

“Pretty showy for a piece of chocolate. Does he think he can just open his wallet and you’ll come running back?” he said.

“No, it’s not like—see, we have this joke because when he gave me something, I asked if it—”

“Emme, he thinks he’s so great it doesn’t matter what he says or does ’cause he’s Mr. Perfect. But he left you to go to the reading alone so he could work the charity auction with Lauren.” My face must have shown how shocked I was because Darren said, “You didn’t know? My brother was there, and he said Lauren and Brendon were together the whole time. You deserve to be treated better.”

I felt sick. Brendon never mentioned Lauren being there. Maybe it was because he didn’t get the chance to tell me, or it was because he had been all over his ex all night and was hoping I wouldn’t hear about it. Or maybe he didn’t care if I found out. Maybe he thought I was lucky to get any of his time, so I should just be happy he decided to spend any time with him at all. I mean, I knew I wasn’t good enough for him, but did the whole world have to see it, too? I started to say something, but Darren cut me off.

“I’m sorry Emme, but it makes me mad. He treats you like dirt, and I hate it. You deserve better.”

The more I thought about it, the more I felt he might be right. Darren was bringing up the exact things I had been worried about. I still felt like Brendon cared about me, but I couldn’t ignore the times he had put other things before me. Like when we’d talk on the phone, and it would be obvious he was watching a football game at the same time, or when I needed his help with my French homework, but he didn’t call me until eleven o’clock at night because he had been working on a paper.

I was still confused when Brendon called me after school and asked if I wanted to go to the mall. He hates shopping, so I figured he was trying to be nice. Besides, I just wanted things to go back to normal, and I wanted to feel he liked me the way I liked him. But things just got weird the second we walked into a store. First we ran into Cassie, the girl from the tennis court. I tried to smile at her, but she just stared past me.

“Brendon, I have got to stop instant messaging with you on nights when I have a test the next day. It’s your fault I bombed my French quiz,” she said.

Cassie didn’t look like the type who cared what her grades were. All she cared about was letting me know she and Brendon had been writing to each other for over an hour the other night. Fabulous. It was probably the night I was up at the hospital feeling sorry for myself. It was also irritating me how he kept checking his messages. I always put my phone on vibrate when I was with him, but he never did with me. Then, we saw this girl at the perfume counter who ran over to hug him.

“Hey Bren-Bren,” she said. “Lauren said you guys had so much fun at the charity thing.”

“Em, this is Lauren’s sister, Monique,” he said.

I should have known. They had the same bouncy hair, same giant diamond earrings, and the same way of making me feel like I was about to get anxiety-induced diarrhea. I was trying to look past all of that when I was looking at shoes and saw he was texting someone. Even though I didn’t know who he was writing to, I just felt it was a girl. Not like he was necessarily cheating on me, but I felt like I wasn’t interesting enough so he had to have a standby or something.

“Sorry if I’m boring you,” I said, throwing a pair of mules back on the sale rack.

“What?”

“You can’t spend like, two seconds without having to text someone or check your messages.”

“Look, I’m sorry a lot of people text me. It’s not a crime to have friends,” he said.

“I’m just saying you’re with me right now, can’t you put—”

“I do so much for you, but it’s never enough. I said I was sorry I missed your reading, but geez, Em. You’re so sensitive,” he said.

Maybe we both should have stopped and thought about what we were going to say next, because the next thing I knew I called him a selfish jerk.

“I’m sorry, but it couldn’t be helped. This event was major for my college applications. I couldn’t blow off something which will help me get into the Ivy Leagues for some stupid little reading.”

“Stupid little reading? Seriously?”

“I didn’t mean for it to come out—”

“I think you did. Will you just take me home?”

“Emme, I—”

“Please. I want to go home.”

We drove to my house, and we didn’t say a word to each other. I kept waiting for him to apologize and say something that would make it all better. But he stayed silent.

“I didn’t want to get into a fight with you, but can you see it from my point of view?”

“I’ll go to the next reading.”

It wasn’t just the reading; it was the fact he was on his phone all night when he was supposed to be with me. And I was sick of the constant girls acting like I wasn’t even there.

“I’m overwhelmed by everything, and I’m feeling—”

His phone started to ring just then. Had he ignored it, maybe I would have been okay, but his eyes darted to the screen to see who it was, and even upside down I could read the name, “Lauren.”

“You know maybe I just need a break from—”

And then he cut me off and said, “Fine.”

I hadn’t meant for him to take me so literally, but there it was. And I wasn’t about to say, “Hey, that’s not what I meant, I was trying to share my feelings on everything with you,” when he obviously didn’t care. He was so quick to move on without even hearing me out.

My eyes filled with tears, and I didn’t want him to see me cry, so I got out of the car. When I got to the door, I realized someone left it unlocked. I went inside and figured my parents must have forgotten to lock it. The only real items of value in the house, the TV and computer, were still there, but I had the chills. I went to the fridge to grab a bottle of water when I noticed a note for me on the counter. Mom had written that my grandmother was back in the hospital, and she’d call me as soon as she had any information. Oh crap, I had my phone volume down while I was out.

My first instinct was to call Brendon to ask for a ride to the hospital, but I didn’t want to beg, and I was afraid he might give me some excuse and say he couldn’t do it. I got desperate to see Grandma so I dialed his cell phone, but got his voice mail, so I hung up. Zach and Rory were the only close friends I had who were old enough to drive, but Zach was at work, and Rory wasn’t home, so I decided to call Darren. He drove me to the hospital, and I found out what room Grandma was in. My mom was in the hall talking to a nurse. Mom introduced the nurse to me, and they told me my grandmother had suffered another stroke.

“Is she going to be all right?” I asked. Darren put his hand on my shoulder.

“She’s conscious, but unable to speak. We don’t think she’s in any physical pain, but she’s paralyzed on her left side,” the nurse said.

As we walked toward her room, I realized he hadn’t answered my question. Mom told me Grandpa had been with Grandma when she had the stroke.

“What happened?” I asked.

“We had dropped Grandpa off at the hospital to visit. Aunt Caroline called her room, and Grandpa answered and told her Grandma had passed out. The nurse came and called an ambulance.”

Mom said she had talked to Grandma’s doctor, and Dr. Anton didn’t think we should bring Grandpa to see Grandma while she was in the hospital. Dr. Anton thought maybe all of this was too much for him, and she wasn’t sure how he would react seeing Grandma hooked up to the machines. The doctor said we should only bring him if we thought he’d be able to handle it. For now, my dad had taken him to stay with Aunt Caroline and Uncle George.

Darren stayed in the hall as I walked into Grandma’s room. She was sitting up in bed, but one side of her face was slack, and her eyes were darting around the room and not focusing on anything. I wanted to go over and take her hand, but I was scared. She was making this little moaning noise, and it seemed like she was in pain. Sitting down next to the bed, I tried to talk to her, but she didn’t even look at me. I kept repeating she was going to be fine, and started bringing up things we could do after she got out of the hospital. I just wanted her to believe she was going to get out of the hospital—even if I didn’t believe it myself.

“When you get home we could make those sugar cookies—remember when I tried to make the dough pink, and it came out all gross?” Her eyes darted around the room, and she didn’t seem to absorb anything I was saying. I put my hand in hers and asked her to squeeze, and she gripped my hand so tightly I almost couldn’t get it out of her grasp. I went into the hall to tell them how she responded, but the nurse said it was just a reflex and not to look too deeply into it. Mom suggested Darren and I go and get something to eat. I didn’t want to leave, but she insisted and gave us some money.

“Emme, please. You need to have dinner, and I want some time alone with Grandma.”

Darren asked where I wanted to eat, and I said I didn’t care. He pulled into a parking lot and I followed him in. It wasn’t until I sat down that I realized Brendon and I had eaten here before. Last time I was there, the waitress had basically hit on Brendon right in front of me. Darren and I had the same waitress, but I was sure she didn’t remember me and just as positive she would have remembered Brendon. I ordered a salad even though I knew I probably wouldn’t eat much of it. Darren tried to reassure me Grandma was going to be fine.

“There’s so much doctors can do these days,” he said. I nodded, but I knew she was in trouble. I could tell my grandma knew it, too.

After we ate, he dropped me off at home because he had to go to work. He offered to call in sick, but I didn’t want him to miss work. However, I also didn’t want to be in the house all by myself. I tried reading to distract myself, but I couldn’t concentrate, so I put the TV on to break the silence. Why was there never anything good on? I lit every green candle in the house, and I even tried calling some friends, but no one was home. Darren called me on his break to make sure I was okay.

“You know when I get upset sometimes it helps to write about it,” he said.

“I just want to go to sleep so I’m not conscious, you know?”

“Yeah. Listen, do you want me to stop by on my way home from work?” he asked.

“No, I think I’m going to just go lie down for a while, but thanks.”

I considered calling Brendon to tell him I hadn’t meant I wanted a break from him, but I was afraid he’d say he had plans or something, and he wouldn’t be able talk. It would hurt even more if he said it after I told him about my grandmother.

Instead I called Margaux and told her the whole story.

“Oh man, I’d go nuts with girls constantly flirting right in front of me,” she said. “But honestly, that’s just part of what it’s like to be dating the ‘It Guy.’”

“What do you mean?”

“You know how magazines call models and those socialites the ‘It Girl’ all the time? Well, he’s like the male version. He’s the guy every girl wants to date and every guy wants to be. It’s a lot to handle.”

“You’re telling me. So what do I do now?”

“I’d wait a bit and let him cool down. Maybe he’ll call you. Personally, the way things were left, I wouldn’t want to call him first and look desperate. I’m sure it’ll work out.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

I decided to go to bed and get away from everything. I had never gone to sleep so early on a Friday night before.