“Well, I do.” She tipped her head to either side as if she’d be able to sneak a peek behind the football. “Emme, he’sbeautiful. He’s like a statue. Michelangelo could not have imagined anything like this. And his hair, my god.”
I couldn’t argue with any of these points but especially the last. It was unfair that Ryan’s dark chestnut hair spent so much time trapped inside a helmet because it wasglorious. Thick, lustrous, and always falling back into its proper shape no matter how many times he ran his fingers through it. Natural, sun-kissed highlights that a stylist could only dream of replicating.
I’d always teased him about having a secret hair care routine but the annoying truth was that he didn’t need to put in any effort. He could wash his hair with bar soap and leave it to air-dry, and he’d still look like he belonged in shampoo commercials.
These days, he had a huge endorsement deal with a high-end hair care brand.
“He did not look like this in high school,” she said. “Nature requires balance. Swear to me that he was gangly and awkward.”
I opened my photo app and scrolled way, way back in time. “This,” I started, “was from junior year. I will accept no criticism of my highlights or the amount of war-paint bronzer caked on my face. I was a child.”
I handed her my phone. She lifted her fingers to her lips, tapping lightly as she swiped. “Nature must be getting its balance from somewhere else because it took nothing fromhim.” She paused toawwwat the screen and then reached over to pinch my cheek. “Weren’t you the cutest thing ever? Look at that little face!”
I swatted her away. “You’re embarrassing me, Mom!”
Laughing, Jamie said, “Now explain why you’re holding two oranges in front of your eyes.”
“Probably because my frontal cortex wasn’t fully developed and I did ridiculous things just like everyone else at that time in their life?” I shrugged. “I don’t know. I was really into those little tangerines. I’d have a whole bag of them in my locker, shove a few in my pockets, and eat them throughout the day. My nails were always orange from the rind.”
Jamie hummed to herself. “I’m sure I did weird shit like that in high school too but I can’t think of anything other than conducting séances in the bathroom. But that’s pretty ordinary.” She pointed to the screen and a photo from the sidelines after a game. Ryan had his helmet tucked under one arm, me under the other. A serious, scowling set to his jaw like always. “You two were awfully cozy. Just look at this arm around your shoulder. See the way his forearm is braced high across your chest? It’s like he wants to paw at your neck. It’s possessive.”
It’d never been like that between us. We’d always been close but we were friends, the best of friends. We shared everything. Even sandwiches. There were no secrets between us. Our other friends joked that we spoke a different language when we were together and, all these years later, I thought that was right. We shared a mother tongue spoken in lands where everything was fucked up beyond reason and you just had to survive, to getthroughit, and that was why we fit together so well.
But there was no heat, no romance.
We both dated other people throughout high school. There was never a moment when it seemed like there could be more for us. If I had to choose, I didn’t think I would’ve chosen more. Hewas the only person I had and I couldn’t lose him. It wasn’t the sort of thing I’d gamble on.
“And let’s not forget about the fact he’s soaked in sweat,” she went on, “and you don’t seem to have any problem with that. You’re right up in there. It’s like you’re letting him mark you with his scent. It’s very primal.”
“He was notmarkingme,” I said. “Where do you come up with this stuff?”
“I’m merely telling you what I’m seeing, love.”
“Trust me, we’re just friends. That’s all it’s ever been. I’m sure you’ll uncover plenty of red carpet photos of him with supermodels and pop stars getting even cozier. He’s made the rounds since being in the League.”
“Oh, tell me more.” She handed back my phone and returned to her own. “I’m in the mood to decode some more body language but I’m betting there are zero supermodels jumping into his arms while he was dripping with sweat, unlike some people.”
I turned all of my attention to picking at my nails. I shouldn’t have shown Jamie that photo. It was too hard to explain how it was with me and Ryan. We’d always been…close. You had to be there to understand it. “I’m sure there’s something from after a playoff game, down on the field.”
“Hmm. Nope. Not seeing any of that. Just your boy squeaky clean with a bunch of copy-and-paste blondes. Can we talk about all this pouting though? Never a smile from this one. Are those the only muscles he doesn’t have?”
I shrugged. “He’s intense.”
She dragged her gaze away from the screen to eye me for a second. “You two must’ve been peas in a very dark and broody pod.”
“We were not.” And I wasn’t. Moody, perhaps. Serious for no specific reason, yes. Completely unimpressed with the world and everyone in it, always.
“What was high school Emme into? Did you have a subversive Tumblr? Did you fall down theStar Warsfandom hole? I bet you could write some top-shelf Reylo filth. Or were you a Paramore girlie who couldn’t pull back on the eyeliner to save your life?”
I blew out a breath. “I was aLes Misgirlie.”
“Well, fuck.”
I nodded. “My fanfic handle was Eponine1817.”
“Mhmm. Yep. That checks out.”
“That’s how I met Grace, actually,” I said. “We were both wearingAnne Hathaway Theater Campt-shirts at freshman orientation. Spotted each other across the student union. Love at first sight.”
