Two weeks pass, barely looking up from the spread of my manuscript and my computer, and suddenly I’m approaching the joint-bach camping trip weekend. Penelope is back from the book tour, and our text message chain has been relatively quiet. I’m half excited to hear about how the book tour went, half dreading her piling on new wedding tasks.
I sit at my kitchen table, working on my query letter. Even if my deluded crush on Eitan turned out to be a bust, there are still other things to look forward to. Progress. Goals. Some shimmering mirage of my life, off in the distance.
Dear Alice Sutherland,I begin. No, it should be less formal. This isn’t a cold query. This is an introduction fromher favorite client, according to Pen.Dear Alice.Nine thrilling letters.I am seeking representation for?—
Across the kitchen, next to the microwave, my phone rings.
It’s Eitan, I think, a buzz breaking out on my skin. But when I pick it up,Penelopeflashes on the screen.
I try to bury the disappointment that coils in my gut.
“Hey,” I say, tired.
“Hey, Rubes,” Pen says. “How are you?”
I slump back into my chair. “Good. I was actually just working on my query letter.”
“Oh, nice.” Something smacks on the other end of the line. Is she chewing gum? “I wanted to talk to you because I heard you went out with Eitan, you little minx!”
My cheeks burn.
“Time to spill.” Pen waits.
“Spill what?”
“You know what!” she hisses. “You and Eitan.”
My skin feels like it will break out in hives. Does she know about the kiss? Did Eitan…tell people? I don’t like the idea of Eitan telling people about that moment. It cheapens it. Like it was a conquest, something he wanted to brag about.
“I thought he and Deep would be a thing this summer, but then you snapped him up like the maneater you apparently are!”
“What—”
“Eitan told Josh a while ago that you two went out and he onlyjusttold me. I mean, come on. Boys.” More gum smacks. “But what I want to know is howexactlyit happened? And how did I not hear about it first?” Pen asks this last question like I was personally responsible for reporting every single wedding detail to her. Even if it involved developing feelings for the best man.
“It’s nothing,” I say, distracted. “Just a—a crush.”
“Don’t be coy.” Pen’s voice narrows, sharpening to a point. “You must have gone after him. He doesn’t normally go for girls like you.”
The ground sinks, or perhaps it’s just me, sliding beneath the earth. My vision blurs, the query letter becoming an unfocused gray blob. The comment lodges itself between my ribs. A knife made of my own insecurities, capable of puncturing a lung or maybe stabbing the ventricles of my heart that still work.I like…people who are nerdy, Eitan said. Even though it’s been two weeks, the shape of his lips are still seared onto mine.I like you, Ruby Hirsch.Hedoesgo for girls like me. Maybe, for once, it’s Penelope who’s on the outside. “Girls like me?” I ask, proud of how even I keep my voice.
“Oh, you know what I mean! He’s a total player. Likes the model types, from what I can tell.”
There’s some small victory in knowing Eitan better than Penelope knows him. But I put a stop to that kiss for a reason. I’m intimately acquainted with what happens when you get involved with someone out of your depth. What I don’t need is Pen rubbing it in my face.
“Well, you can relax,” I say, words biting. “Because it’s not going anywhere. We’re…”Cosmically incompatible.Destined to be the best five minutes of my miserable life.“We want different things.”
“Whew!” Pen says. She soundsrelieved, one single syllable managing to carry so much stark cruelty. Is she embarrassed of me? That knife twists.
Pen catches herself. “I just mean, I’m glad nothing is getting too messy.”
“Right. Messy.” I sift the word back and forth, trying to glean its subtext.
“To be honest, I was a little worried you told Eitan about, you know, the wedding and stuff.”
So that’s what this is about. Pen is worried I outed her to her fiancé’s best friend. I remember Eitan’s reaction to witnessing afractionof Pen’s behavior this summer.I don’t like the way she treats you.I haven’t said a word about our arrangement, yet still he’s perceptive enough to sense something is wrong.
“Well, not to worry,” I say darkly, “I haven’t mentioned a thing.”
