He put his hand to his hip and grimaced. “Definitely not.”
As they talked, my gaze kept darting between the two of them,nervous about how they’d interact. Tyler, at first, treated Olivia to his large smile and easy laugh, to his undivided attention and good questions. I hadn’t realized, before this week, how he really did have a polished, impenetrable wall up. He told entertaining, nonpersonal stories, deflected anything genuine about himself, and asked plenty of questions. And it worked; I could see Olivia opening up to him, chatting about her boyfriend, Jackson, and the New Year’s party and college. But Tyler himself didn’t open up or drop his polished smile.
Not until I jumped in, taking over the conversation with Olivia. “I read a pretty decent zombie apocalypse book recently,” she said. “Usually I don’t like zombies because I like smart villains, and zombies are so dumb. But this was about a start-up trapped at a retreat on the Cape, and how the different departments behaved, like content and marketing and engineering, and who survived, and how they defended the resort from zombies.”
“Love it,” I said. “I’d like to read one of those set in high school, about all the different cliques.”
“Jocks could probably mount a good defense,” Olivia said. “But the nerds have the tactical advantage. They should probably team up.”
“And one person from each group who hated each other would have to work together and fall in love.”
“One hundred percent.” She took a bite of her malassada, a fried-dough pastry covered in cinnamon and packed with lemonzest. “I think the theater kids are dead right away, though. Too loud. And they keep pausing to monologue.”
“What about the stoners? Are they so slow the zombies get them or so utterly still the zombies don’t even notice them?”
“I assume the zombies can detect heat, so they’re probably done for. Unless the weed confuses the zombies?”
“Quite possible.”
Tyler’s gaze flickered back and forth between us, and I could see him slowly relaxing, as though he was realizing he didn’t have to entertain anyone. And then his other smile appeared, the smaller one, and he leaned forward. “What about the artsy kids? They could probably camouflage themselves, like Peeta.”
After that, the rest of the afternoon felt wonderfully easy.
I was the one who actually had to call it, realizing with a start the Danzigers would be arriving soon. We stepped outside into a light flurry of snow and almost ran into two laughing girls—one of whom was Abby.
“Oh,hi.” Her eyes widened as they flicked toward Tyler, and I felt like I was doing something illicit.
Tyler’s expression, of course, remained unaffected. “Hey, Abby. And—Jane, right? What are you guys up to?”
Jane linked elbows with Abby. “Gossiping about boys,” she said. “And how much trouble they are.”
We chatted for a few minutes, even though I wanted to spontaneously combust, and Abby and Jane looked like they mightbreak into giggles any second. “See you at home,” I said to Abby as soon as politely reasonable, and hurried the rest of us along.
“I’ll give you a lift home,” Tyler said as we walked down the street, as though driving together was the most natural thing in the world.
“Cool,” Olivia said before I had a chance to answer. “Good to see you, Tyler. See you soon,” she said to me, with a waggle of her brows when Tyler couldn’t see. She peeled away.
Tyler glanced at me as we walked back toward the car, past the Christmas trees lining the streets, the shops with holiday displays, the lampposts twined with ivy. “You guys have been close forever.”
“She’s basically my best friend,” I said, then flushed. “I mean, we don’t call each other that, and it might sound weird since we only see each other during the summer. She might not think we are, actually.”
“You don’t talk about it?”
What, ask Olivia if she thought we were besties and risk the mortification of being gently let down? “No, thank you. Anyway, she probably has a real best friend back home.”
“Don’t you?”
“No. I don’t really have close friends other than Olivia. And my cousins, I guess.”
“Really?” He sounded surprised. “Why not?”
I shrugged. “People like to have me around, but they don’t really want to be my friend, you know?”
He frowned. “No. What do you mean?”
WhatdidI mean? “Like... for semiformal,” I said slowly, trying to articulate it, “no one invited me to get ready with them. I had to—to ask what they were doing, and everyone had already made plans with their micro groups. They said I could join, but I didn’t want to crash. It felt weird, not initially being included.”
“What did you do?”
