I expect excitement, or maybe another few seconds of stubborn pouting. I don’t expect Melissa to widen her eyes and swallow, raising a hand to nibble her nails.
“Fine,” she says, and she stalks toward the front room. “But fifteen minutes, and then I’m going to sleep.”
I scramble after her, past the winding-down party, past our weary hosts gathering red Solo cups, and out the front door onto the sidewalk.
“Watch out.” I steer Melissa away from the drying lemon-scented puddle, and we lean against the wall a few feet down. “So . . .”
How long has it been since I was sitting here (well, a few feet to the left, closer to the throw-up) with Andrew? An hour? Two? Less? Where do I start telling this story that I still barely believe?
“So what?” Melissa’s arms are still crossed, her shoulders hunched. “You heard about Erin and Aaron?”
“Wait, what?” If the comment was meant to derail me, it works. “Did they finally get together?”
Melissa huffs, tilting her head up to examine the night sky. “Sometimes you’re so oblivious it’s painful. They’re in a huge fight.”
Her harshness puts me back on track. “Okay, listen, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what was going on with me,” I sigh. “I was being a baby, plus Connie kept picking fights when you were texting me, and honestly I didn’t want to talk about it anyway because, well, I don’t know, I guess because I didn’t really care about him, you know? But now—”
“Just because you don’t talk about someone doesn’t mean you don’t care,” Melissa snaps.
“I mean, it basically does, though.” I smile, thinking about Andrew’s smile and how badly I want to describe every detail of that smile to someone: the dot under his bottom lip, the crinkles around his eyes, the—
“I made out with someone,” I say while still daydreaming. “Like, hardcore make-outs. A guy from the Austin team. And he seems super cool, and I might be super into him. Or, like, I don’t know, maybe not, right? Maybe it was just a meaningless one-night stand and I’ll never see him again, and I guess that’s fine, but I just needed to tell someone. Because, I don’t know, it was really fun and weird. And fun. So yeah.”
I thought I would feel calmer after confessing. Instead, my cheeks flush and my chest flutters as Melissa blinks at me.
“You . . . what?”
“I met a guy. And we sort of . . . hooked up.”
Melissa blinks several more times, her shoulders and crossed arms dropping but her eyebrows furrowing. “You,” she says, “are going to need to be a lot more specific with your terms here, dude. Because a second ago it was ‘made out’ and now it’s ‘one-night stand’ and ‘hooked up.’ What exactly happened?” She doesn’t pause long enough for me to answer. “I mean, isn’t this kind of a big deal for you? Unless . . . how far did you get with John? Wait, what about John? Weren’t y’all dating earlier today? I thought y’all were dating.”
“No, of course not.” But my hands ball at my sides. In all the excitement, I sort of . . . completely forgot John existed. Or at least I forgot that he might have feelings about me kissing someone else. Crap. I might be a slightly terrible person.
Melissa throws up her hands. “How am I supposed to know? You haven’t told me anything, and apparently it’s hard to keep up.”
“I already explained: I didn’t tell you about John because he doesn’t matter.” Harsh, but, I’m finally realizing, true.
“That isn’t what that means!” Melissa snarls. “Stop saying that like it’s a thing.”
“But it is a thing—I’m telling you, because as soon as I met this guy I realized that I’m way more excited about him, and if you’re excited then you want to talk about it with your best friend, and that’s why I wanted to tell you—”
“Oh my God, Ellen, shut up.”
I shut up. My pink cheeks turn dark red. The butterflies in my stomach drop dead. Someone slams a car door in the parking lot, and I flinch.
“You can do whatever you want.” Melissa waves her arms and rolls her eyes. Her ponytail bobs, strands that were already ruffled flying free to brush her cheeks. “You can date your way through the whole quidditch community—oh, sorry, not ‘date.’” Her sharp laugh hurts. “But don’t turn around and lecture me about relationships—or friendships, for that matter. Seriously, who are you to tell me anything about anything?”
She stomps back into the apartment as my vision melts into a warm liquid blur.
I sit, curl my knees to my chest, and let the tears spill down my cheeks. Silent. Still. Not even shaking. I’m not angry. I’m nothing.
The feeling that finally breaks through is something like guilt. I did something wrong by kissing a stranger; Melissa didn’t say it outright, but the idea was there. It was there when I first looked in the mirror, when I tried to ignore it. It’s here, crashing down around me, because I pathetically wanted Melissa to make it go away. To tell me I didn’t.
Melissa, who’s never kissed anyone until at least a month of consideration and trial runs. What else would she have to say to me, who can’t stop kissing guys I’m not dating?
John . . . I need to talk to him, and it is not going to be fun.
I need to go back inside, go to sleep. I have quidditch games to play tomorrow. But I don’t want to move. I want the humid night air to dissolve me into vapor so none of my problems can find me.
I hear footsteps approaching. I close my eyes in case another tirade is coming.
“It’s fine,” I whisper. “Just go to bed. You were right.”
But it isn’t Melissa who sits down next to me. It’s Karey.
What is Karey doing awake? Her itinerary was very specific about the importance of a good night’s rest.
“I think I owe you a couple of apologies,” she says while I try to subtly wipe my face. “But I can’t give them to you right now. Anyway, more importantly, are you okay?”
I scrub tears off my knee. “I’ll be fine,” I tell my captain. “I should go to bed so I’ll be rested for the games tomorrow.” I try to stand up.
Karey puts her hand on my shoulder, then snatches it away and runs it over her head. “Ellen, I don’t care about the games. I’m trying to— I’m worried about whatever happened with you.”
I flinch. “Nothing happened with me.”
Karey sighs. “Do I need to go kick this boy’s ass? That’s what I’m asking. I will, Ellen. I will kick the shit out of him.”