I nodded, then started toward the office. A moment later, he fell into step behind me. I said, “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” So agreeable. I was beginning to think thiswasa regular occurrence.
“Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
I stopped and faced him, shielding my eyes with one hand. “Juggle two girls at once. It clearly won’t work, at least not for long. And you can’tenjoygetting busted.”
“Well,” he replied, “I don’t consider it busted. I didn’t lieto anyone, nor did I make any promises about exclusivity.”
“But it was clearly assumed.”
“That’s on them, not me.” I cocked my head to the side, making it clear I doubted this logic. “Look, I like hanging out with girls, plural. Commitment doesn’t really work for me.”
“Maybe because you’re always hanging out with girls, plural?” I suggested.
“No,” he countered, “because it’s too serious. Everything gets, like, heavy, immediately. And all the questions: Where are you going? Who with? When will you be back? Why haven’t you called? What’s that glitter in your hair?”
“Glitter?”
He sighed. “Let me put it this way. You know that feeling, when you very first meet someone and there’s a spark, that undeniable attraction, and everything about them seems new and interesting and perfect?”
A boy on a beach, his hand outstretched. White shirt billowing in the dark. “Yeah,” I said. “Sure.”
“It’s the best, right? Like magic, that awesome.” I nodded. “So why, if you could, wouldn’t you want thatallthe time, every time?”
“Because,” I said, then realized immediately this was not an answer. I swallowed, taking a breath. “Then you only have beginnings, over and over again. Nothing substantial.”
“But substantial is complicated.Substantial,” he said, pointing at me, “is questions about glitter in your hair, or why you won’t tag along shopping, or whether you find her friends annoying.”
“So you don’t want anything that lasts,” I said, clarifying. “Only a bunch of magical first nights and days, strung along one right after the other.”
He smiled. “Doesn’t sound bad, does it? All the upsides of dating, none of the down.”
“Except when you get a drink thrown at you,” I pointed out.
He shrugged. “Shirts can be washed.”
We started walking again: it had been over an hour for each of us, and while my mom wasn’t exactly a bear, she would notice.
“Let me guess,” he said. “You think I’m terrible.”
“Not necessarily. It’s just... not my way, I guess.” I thought for a second. “What’s funny is that Jilly was just saying, basically, that I need to be morelikeyou.”
“Really?” I nodded. “How so?”
I paused, wondering how exactly to say this, what I wanted to reveal. “My last relationship—my boyfriend—it was basically all one perfect early beginning. We met at the beach, clicked immediately, spent a whole night talking. Then we were long distance, so there was never a chance of anything getting old.”
He was quiet, listening to this. “Sounds nice.”
“It was.” I swallowed again. “Anyway, I haven’t dated since. I haven’t wanted to. And she maintains it’s because my expectations were set so high, right off the bat. Like no one will ever compete.”
“Do you think that?”
“I don’t know,” I said. This was the truth. “But maybegoing into things hoping they will is the wrong approach. Like, if I date someone expecting nothing, I’d be better off.”
“I don’t expect nothing of the person,” he corrected me. “Just the relationship.”
