“I told you I was coming.”
“And I told you that you shouldn’t.”
“But I was going to be here anyway—”
“California isn’t here.”
“You said we needed to talk, Micah. And I agreed. We should talk.”
“I’ve been saying that for six months, Penny, and you’ve been putting me off.”
“I haven’t—”
Micah’s arms are folded. He looks so different from the last time I saw him. He’s growing one of those awful moustache/chin-beard combos. When was the last time we Skyped?
“Micah? I just don’t understand why you wouldn’twantme here. I’m your girlfriend.”
He looks like I’ve just said something ridiculous. (Something like,“I’m going to grow a moustache/chin-beard thingy, what do you think?”) “Penelope… we’ve hardly talked in a year.”
“Because we’re both busy.”
“And we talked even less the year before that.”
“Well, those were extreme circumstances, you know that.”
“You can’t avoid me for two years and still think we have arelationship.”
“Micah, I wasn’t ever avoiding you, why would you say that?”
“You weren’tanythingabout me!Weweren’t anything. I talked to my grandmother more than you.”
“Am I competing with your grandmother now?”
“Not like I was competing with Simon Snow.”
The Pomeranian barks.
“You know that Simon and I aren’t like that.”
He rolls his eyes. “I do. Actually. But I know that he matters to you—in a way I never have.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me you felt this way?”
“Ha,” Micah says. Like I’m being the worst kind of funny. “I tried. I’d have better luck talking to a tornado. Youarea tornado.”
I’m so confused. “We don’t really have tornadoes in England.…”
“Well, you’re a gale-force wind, Penelope Bunce. You just do what you want as forcefully as possible, and nothing else matters. I’ve tried to talk to you about this so many times, but you just blow right past me.”
“That’s not fair!” I say. I’m losing my cool.
He isn’t. “It’s more than fair—it’strue.You. Don’t. Listen. To me.”
“I certainly do.”
“Really? I told you I was tired of being in a long-distance relationship—”
“And I agreed that it was tiring!” I say.
