Page 30 of Let It Be Me

“Well, you are.”

The way she smiles soothes the frustration inside me. I sigh and sit back. “But you still like me.”

“And so do they. Keep it that way and stop telling them what stupid assholes they are.”

I guess I am an uptight prick sometimes. “All right.” I nod. “Thanks. Now go make me some dessert.”

She laughs and throws a pillow at me, her eyes glinting. “Actually, I have something really good. You ready for it? It’s a sugar bomb.”

“Bombs away.”

Maybe Cash’s roof plummet isn’t the worst thing to happen. I watch as Ruby hops off the couch and hustles to the kitchen, leaving a trail of her amazing coconut scent and reminding me that even if I’m stuck on the couch, it’s still summer and I still get to spend it with my best friend.

ELEVEN

lorenzo

Cash is supposedlyon his way over, hopefully to feed me and apologize for almost screwing up our senior season, and I’m excited for some Friday night company and a little break in the monotony of recovery. But he’s half an hour late, I’m irritated from having my arm trapped in a sling, and now I’m half hoping he does bring that magic weed, because even though I haven’t touched anything like that in months, I’m bored out of my mind.

But when a knock finally sounds at the door, it’s not Cash standing on the other side.

“Allison,” I say, caught off guard. “Hey.” Awkwardly, I take my phone out of my pocket. “Did you ... ?”

“I didn’t text first. Sorry. I was just driving by and thought I’d take a chance you were home.” Alli smiles apologetically, but unless she was driving by on her way to a date, I call bullshit. Her hair’s all perfect and her lavender perfume is heavy and she’s wearing this jeans-and-off-the-shoulder-sweatshirt thing that I know from watching Ruby isn’t as casual as girls make it look.

“No problem. Um ...” I gesture inside. “Come in.” I follow her into the living room, snatching a random flannel button-down off the back of the couch when I remember I’m shirtless.

Alli sits on the edge of the couch and crosses her legs, her gaze following my fingers up my body as I quickly button the shirt. “Sorry to ambush you,” she says softly, her eyes on my chest.

“Don’t be. I was just doing my stretches. It’s pretty much all I ever do these days.”

Her gaze finally reaches my eyes. “So you don’t have plans tonight?”

“I do,” I say quickly. “Cash is coming over.”

“Oh.” It’s hard for me to admit I don’t hate the disappointment in her voice. It’s flattering that even after six months apart, while she spent spring in Paris, she still comes home and looks at me the way she used to. That even as demure as Alli is, she can’t take her eyes off my naked chest. Because Alli is beautiful and accomplished, and if she were right for me, she’d probably be the perfect girlfriend. But she’s never been right for me.

“So what’s been up? How do you like being stateside again?”

“Good. An adjustment, I guess.” She tucks her hair behind one ear. “I’ve been wanting to see you.”

I swallow. “I know,” I say guiltily. “I owe you a dinner. Things have been busy lately.”

“No, I get it. I’d just like to catch up and see you for a while. It’s been such a long time.”

We broke up weeks before she went to France, and we were clear that her going abroad wasn’t the reason for the breakup—it was just the excuse. And when spring rolled around and she was telling me she missed me, I was clear that I wasn’t looking for a relationship when she came back. But now here she is, asking me for another chance, and it’s hard for me to say the words I know are going to hurt her. Because Alli has never done anything wrong except for not being the girl I want.

“Al,” I start, hoping my mouth might just take over with something brilliant, because my brain isn’t providing shit. “We can catch up, yeah, but I have a lot going on with recovery and trying to get ready for fall. I’m not ... available, you know?”

“I’m not asking for much, Lorenzo. A dinner?”

Funny how she thinks I don’t know her anymore. That just because we spent a semester apart, I don’t know when she’s saying the opposite of what she means. “It’s not just a dinner.”

She raises her chin but keeps her eyes trained on me.

“Right?”

She slips the black headband off her head and tousles her long hair. “Okay, yes, if I had my way? It would be more than dinner.”

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