“So,” my dad started, “what earned Adam and Logan the prestigious title of ‘asshats’?”
I sighed. “Adam asked who I was going to homecoming with, and they didn’t seem to like the fact that I have a date. But both of them had plenty of girlfriends in high school . . . and Paul isn’t even technically my boyfriend.”
“He’s not?” My father’s eyes were genuinely curious.
“No, he’s just a friend. Mackenzie is dating Paul’s best friend, so it made sense for us to pair up and go together with them to the dance. We’ve all hung out as a group a few times, and I could see it maybe turning into something more, but . . .” I trailed off.
The truth was that I felt completely unsure of myself in the arena of dating. My best friend, Mackenzie, had been dating Eric since the end of sophomore year. I’d been a firsthand witness to their relationship as it naturally and effortlessly blossomed from friendship, to liking each other, to deciding that they were exclusive by the end of summer break. Mackenzie wanted to make sure that when junior year started, everyone knew that Eric was hers. Eric didn’t seem to mind—it was obvious that he was really into her, too.
The ease of their relationship perplexed me. I didn’t understand how they fell so easily into coupledom, when I still felt like boys were a foreign language. I asked Mackenzie one night during a sleepover at her house, as we lay wide awake together in her room.
“How did you know that you really liked Eric?” I asked.
Even in the darkness, I could feel the smile that grew on her face. “He brought me a first edition of Alice and Wonderland.”
I scrunched my eyebrows. “What?”
“During English class last year, we were discussing our favorite childhood stories, and I said that mine was Alice in Wonderland. Something about the story felt so . . . freeing. Like you can go anywhere you want to, experience legitimate magic, and all you have to do is go to sleep and dream. I’ve always loved that idea.
“Anyway, Eric was in that class and must have remembered, because at the beginning of summer break he showed up at my house with a first edition for me. We’d only been dating for a few weeks. His mother owns a used bookstore, and I guess he found it there. And he remembered. And it just felt like . . . like a good thing. You know?”
Silence wrapped around us as I contemplated that. The idea that maybe love wasn’t some big, giant trust dive off of a cliff. Maybe it was rooted inside of a collection of smaller moments. A culmination of meaningful encounters and thoughtful experiences that created the foundation for something more.
I’d eventually met Paul through Eric, and the four of us went out on a couple of group outings like to the bowling alley, the arcade, and once we’d even caught a double-feature night at the drive-ins. That had been fairly awkward, as Mackenzie and Eric made out on Eric’s tailgate while Paul and I sat in folding chairs six feet away, pretending not to notice.
I wanted to like Paul. I even felt like Icouldlike Paul. He was the first boy I ever considered for something like that. But I kept waiting for the moment that Mackenzie said she felt with Eric . . . when it felt like a good thing. When I felt something truly meaningful.
And that’s where I was now. Still waiting. Sixteen years old, and I’ve never so much as held someone’s hand. Never been kissed.
As I moved the sliced tomatoes to a plate, I heard my dad take a deep breath behind me. “Amelia, you’re growing up right before our very eyes. And you’re a smart, beautiful, tenacious young lady. Don’t rush into the world of boys if you don’t have a good reason to. Take your time, and make sure that any boy you do decide to let into your heart is worth the effort.
“Adam and Logan know from their own experiences that most boys your age don’t have the best of intentions. Hell, they didn’t always have the best of intentions themselves when they were your age. And I know they just want to protect you.”
Just as my dad finished talking, Logan walked into the kitchen. He paused when he saw us, likely realizing he’d interrupted something. “Sorry, I was just seeing if there was anything I could help with . . .” He looked back and forth between my father and I.
“Sure, son. Let’s go check on those burgers.” He picked up a pack of sliced cheese off the counter and joined Logan at the back door.
I watched him and Logan through the kitchen window, poking and prodding at the burgers and bacon on the grill, working together to get dinner ready for all of us, as I contemplated my father’s words.
A half hour later,we were all seated around our dining room table. As we ate our delicious bacon cheeseburgers, I kept catching Logan looking at me with an odd expression. I thought that maybe I had something on my face or a piece of bacon lodged between my teeth, but after excusing myself to use the restroom, I couldn’t find anything amiss.
When I returned to the table, I again felt his eyes on me from across the table. Glancing up at him, our eyes locked on each other before Logan broke the connection, reverting his eyes back to the plate in front of him as he took a big bite out of his food.
Adam didn’t seem to notice how quiet he’d been all night, and as he went on and on with stories about his life at college, I could tell that Logan wasn’t listening to a single word.
During a rare break from my brother’s yapping, my mom took an opportunity to bring Logan into the conversation. “What about you, Logan? How are things going for you? Are you still seeing Stephanie?”
I had to forcibly stop myself from rolling my eyes at her name. Logan had met Stephanie in one of his classes and had been dating her for the last six months or so. I’d met her a couple of times when he’d brought her to the house, and even did my best to be welcoming after realizing that it must have been serious if she was meeting our family.
It wasn’t easy though. From the get-go, I knew Stephanie was everythingnotto like about college girls. She was vain, selfish, and didn’t seem to have a grasp on the complexities of real life. It was as if she were incapable of doing anything for herself that didn’t involve posting to Instagram, and I didn’t like how Logan enabled her helplessness by doing everything for her.
He’d made her plate at dinner (“only a little bit, please — I need to lose, like, five pounds before the pool party next week”), refilled the diet soda that she kept slurping down through a pink straw that she’d pulled out of her purse (“soda is, like,soterrible for your teeth and makes them turn yellow, so Ionlydrink it with a straw”), and helped my parents clean up after dinner while she sat on the couch and scrolled through her social media feed.
Needless to say, I didn’t understand what he possibly saw in her.
“Uh, no, actually,” Logan responded. “We broke up about three weeks ago.”
“Oh, goodness!” My mother put her cheeseburger down and rested her wrists against the table, giving him her full attention. “I’m so sorry, Logan.”
