Page 46 of Endeavor

“Love you, too.” I let the phone fall onto my bed.

I stare at my ceiling a while longer before willing myself to get on with my life. Why should I care? It was one week of my life. I’ve spent more time with other guys who turned out to be total dicks and I got over them.

I contemplate texting Will, but I just can’t bring myself to do it. I want to feel like I’m falling head over heels when I meet a guy and I’ve known Will for almost six months, and while I enjoy his company, I don’t feel butterflies when I’m around him.

My grandmother would say if you don’t feel the butterflies, then you shouldn’t be feeling the guy. I grin at that. I haven’t spoken to her in a while and I could use a good grandmother chat right now.

I call her and put her on speaker as I straighten up my room.

“Hello?” she says. Grandma Martha sounds like she smokes a pack a day, but she quit thirty years ago. Of course, she also mentions that she quit thirty years ago about every five minutes.

“Hey, Grandma!” I say.

“Em, is that you, cupcake?”

“It’s me. How are you?”

“Oh, I’m fine for an old lady. I’m not wearing diapers yet, so I can’t complain.”

I snort. “Uh, glad to hear that, I guess.”

“What’s on your mind, child? You’re young and you have a busy life, so if you are calling me out of the blue, it must be because something is on your mind.”

Grandma Martha doesn’t miss a thing.

I sigh. “I like a boy.”

“Oh? Is he cute?”

I can practically hear her rubbing her hands together in excitement. I roll my eyes. “Yes, but after two dates, he just ended things. Just like that, for no real reason.”

“How were the dates? Did you kiss him?”

“Yes.”

“Did you do the deed?”

“Grandma!” I yell, trying to cover my laugh. “No. We only went on two dates.”

“Well, back in my day I may have gotten to at least third base on the second date. I mean with your grandfather, we—”

“Ew! Grandma. No. I don’t want to hear about that. I just…what do you think? Should I just forget him?”

“You really like this boy, don’t you?” she asks.

I nod and then realize she can’t see me. “Yes. I do,” I confess.

“Well, give him another chance. Let him have a few days. He might come around. Maybe there are things going on that he can’t talk about right now. Sometimes, boys just don’t talk like us girls do. Your grandfather never used to tell me his problems, well, until they became my problems. It used to drive me batty.”

I grin. “I bet.”

“You just give him some space and time. He might come around.”

“OK,” I huff.

“How’s school?”

I tell her about my documentary and she “ohhs” and “ahhs” before we hang up and I go about folding my clothes. Maybe Grandma Martha is right. Maybe he will come back to me. I hold on to that small glimmer of hope as I settle in with a book.

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