Page 62 of The Other Side of Together

“Depends on what everyone’s saying.”

She tucks her hair behind her ear and stretches her long legs in front of her—tan, smooth, stretching for miles. “That you don’t like girls. That you think you’re too good for anyone at our school.”

I laugh into the night, a burst of amusement and annoyance. “I like girls.”

“I don’t believe you,” she grins.

If you’d been at The Clubhouse Wednesday night and seen what I was doing with a girl, you’d have no doubt. “Why not?”

“Because. It’s like everyone’s invisible to you.”

Not everyone. There’s one girl I see every time I blink. I choose my words carefully, scanning the field. “I just have this bet with my dad. I get a motorcycle if I stay away from girls.” I shrug. “That’s it.”

Tavah’s eyebrows rise. “Oh. Does he hate girls?”

“Kinda. He doesn’t want them messing me up.” Too late.

Tavah’s laugh sounds like some kinda Middle Eastern musical instrument. “How would a girl ‘mess you up’?” she asks, her eyes intent on mine.

Uh, she could walk into my life with her perfect skin and perfect hair, perfect body and her skinny jeans and let my hormones out of their cage. Everything that comes out of her mouth could be the most fascinating thing I’ve ever heard. She could smile at me for no reason and make me laugh until my stomach hurts. She could mess with my mind until I think I’m in love with her. Rearrange my priorities with one look. Thoughts of her could keep me up at night, hijack my homework or soccer or future. She could be carbonation in my veins. She could become everything to me. For starters.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” My voice is lower than usual, like it’s taken the deep dive into my thoughts with me. I clear my throat. “Totally fine.”

Except I’m totally not. I miss the way Mei checks out my legs. How she squealed when we rolled down that grassy hill on our walk around San Fran. How grass stuck in her damp hair. The way she watches my face when I touch her. How she bites her lip when she’s trying not to smile. The smirk on her face when we talk with our eyes. Her eyes. Really miss those. And the way she fits inside my arms. How she lays her head against my chest and interlocks her fingers around my waist like she’ll never let go. The way she said she loved me like it came from a secret place deep inside her only we’d ever been. And I believed her.

“Ah. A girl’s already messed you up, hasn’t she?”

I’m momentarily tempted to spill my emotions all over Tavah like some clumsy accident. But they’re so close to the surface, I swear she can see them swimming. Like I’m an emotional aquarium.

I laugh. Not like Mei makes me laugh, but like if I don’t laugh, I’ll cry, but I need to keep my mouth shut because if I start talking about Mei, I won’t stop. Then my head will catch up with my heart and I’ll realize I’m not actually talking to Mei.

“What’s so funny?”

I shake my head to my lap. “Was just thinking I’m like an emotional aquarium right now. You’re looking right through me.” Tavah looks through me, but Mei sees everything inside.

She throws her head back. Another musical moment. When Mei laughs like that, she puts her hand over her mouth, like she’s trying to hold back her crazy girl. Tavah lets it fly.

“I’m curious to know what exactly an emotional aquarium looks like…”

“I don’t know—you tell me.”

She laughs again and shakes her head, glancing at me, then to the grass. “Okay, so…” She pushes hair out of her face and looks to the sky. “Really attractive.” She picks a handful of grass. “I’ve had my eye on your emotional fish for a while.”

Crickets chirp. A plane drones overhead. What do I say? WHAT DO I SAY? THAT SOUNDED LIKE A CONFESSION.

“They’re more like attractive sharks, though.” She throws the grass and watches it fall.

Oh. “Sharks?”

“Yeah—intimidating. Scary.” She shrugs and looks at me.

“I’m not scary,” I lock eyes with her, wondering if they’ve learned Eye Language yet. Nope. I miss Mei.

“Yes, you are—girls never know what you’re thinking.”

There’s one girl who can see exactly what I’m thinking. I wish she could see what I’m thinking now. She’d call me back. She’d—

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