“French-Canadian,” I corrected. “And isn’t that stereotyping?”
Violet ignored my question. “So wait, how is he your oldest friend? You didn’t live in Quebec. You’re West Virginia, through and through.”
I explained our family entanglements, leaving out how his mom died and made us promise to try to fall in love. Guy and I hadn’t even talked about that directly, ever. Who knew if he wanted to stick to it or not?
“Of course, I know he’s hot, but we’ve always just been thisweird kinda flirty, kinda family, kinda made-out-a-few-times relationship. He was the one who took care of me after the failed wet t-shirt contest.”
“Um, you failed to mention that part of it,” Violet said.
“Pardon me. I was a little embarrassed that I’d barfed all over myself, told him he was the love of my life, and asked him to make love to me.”
Violet’s jaw fell open. I went on.
“And then we cuddled in his bed the next day. But like, not romantically? I don’t know. We’re weird together. We’re just friends, I think. He could make moves if he wanted to.”
A moment from the night before flashed through my mind: the way he looked at me after he tickled me in his bed. And then held my hand when we talked about the lovers of Pompeii.
“You’re out of your mind, Kitty Cat,” Violet marveled. “I don’t know what weird brother-sister shit you do in West Virginia—”
“Hey!” I objected, tossing a chunk of bagel at her. She knew West Virginia jokes were a sore spot for me and loved poking the bear. “If you can behave, I’ll take you with me to his game tomorrow night. He gave me two seats.”
* * *
Later that evening, I got a text from Guy.
GUY-GUY FRENCHIE
Get ur math turned in?
Yeah thx
Got any more to do?
Not til next week
Wanna come over and watch a show?
It’s 11 pm Frenchie. R u booty calling me?
No
U just want ur sweatshirt back?
If ur not coming over wear it to the game tomorrow
U just want me to wear ur name
Omg
Y r u making this so hard
That’s what she said :p
I need more than good tickets to wear it
M and M?
Now he’s getting it
