Page 101 of What I Like About You

“How’re you feeling?”

“Honestly? I’m not sure what to do with myself. You?”

I scoop a handful of popcorn and nod. “My application is ready to go. Iknowit is. But every time I go to press send, I think I should reread my essay one more time, or make sure I filled out all the forms correctly.”

“How many schools are you applying to?”

I shrug. As much as I don’t like the idea of applying to other schools, I know I need options. Since the first time Grams took me to New York, I’ve only pictured myself there, so I don’t have a proper backup plan.

“I’ll panic apply to twelve other schools, I’m sure. At least,” I say.

Scout jumps off Nash’s lap and runs toward the kitchen, toward the actual possible chance of treats. We’ve been stone cold with our Smartfood, and she’s totally over us.

“I only applied to four. Should I be panic applying?” he asks.

I shake my head. “Nope. Not a recommended strategy.”

“I feel like I need to be doingsomething.” Nash drums his fingers against his thigh. “It’s, like, as soon as I knew I wanted to study studio art at NYU, everything snapped into focus, right? I studied harder, started freelance designing websites, and took REX more seriously. It’s always been thisthingto work toward. Now I’ve applied and all I can do … is wait? It feelswrong.”

“I mean, you could convince your parents to let you go.”

Nash gives mea look. “I’ll tell them if I get in,” Nash says. “I don’t need to deal with their Emotions and the pile-on of guilt if it’s a nonissue.”

“That’s fair,” I say. I want to throw my arms around him in a supportive hug. Instead, I throw popcorn at him. Because that’snot awkward.

It’s usually Kels talking about NYU in hypothetical future speak. Talking with Nash about NYU as Halle? It feels more real. The possibility of us getting in. But also? The possibility of usnot. Maybe it won’t happen for me. Maybe I’ll be screwed over by standardized test scores. Maybe Nash won’t be allowed to go. But thereisa scenario where we’re both there. Just now there’s no scenario where we are both there and actually friends.

But we’re not there yet. We’re in Gramps’s house, throwing popcorn at each other because we’re trying to benot awkward. It’s not easy like it was, but it’s so much better than the way things have been these past few weeks.

We talk until he has to be home for curfew, then I walk him to the door.

“Thanks for the hoop,” I say. “It’s seriously great.”

The tips of his ears flash pink. “I’m really glad you like it.”

We stand in the doorway and stare at each other.

“So yeah,” I say.

“So yeah,” he says.

I put my hand on the doorknob and twist it open. Cold, crisp air whips into the entranceway, the kind of cold that comes just before a storm. I’m coatless so I shiver, but I step onto the porch and close the door behind us.

“See you next year?” Nash asks.

“I suppose so,” I say.

“Happy Chanukah, Halle,” he says, walking backward down Gramps’s walkway, through the light snow that accumulated the night before. He unlocks his car and opens the driver’s door. “We’re good, right?”

I nod. “Welcome to the friend zone.”

Nash’s blush is so fierce, I have to laugh.

Kels’s DMs, winter break

Amy, Elle, and Samira

Mon, Dec 30, 7:00 PM

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