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I was happy to say good-bye and slip away with him.
“That was a
“Yeah. I hate stuff like that.”
“You deal with it well.”
“Jonathan dealt with it, not me.”
“I mean in general. The whole fame and Luke thing. It doesn’t seem to affect you too much one way or another.”
“Thanks.” I leaned against the wall, and felt the hanging silk fabric bunch up behind my back. “But it does, in a way. Like . . . I’m tired of people at school trying to be friends with me just so they can meet Luke.”
“Does that happen a lot?”
“All the time. There’s this one girl right now who—Oh, there’s my drink!” Aaron had spotted us and was coming over with a cup in his hand. “You see?” I said to George. “He had no problem finding me.”
“Clearly I lack his skill and perseverance,” George said. “Excuse me.” He walked away as Aaron approached.
“Was it something I said?” Aaron asked, nodding in his direction.
“I made him feel bad that you brought me my drink and he didn’t.”
“You’re a harsh mistress.” He handed me my soda. “And speaking of harsh mistresses, my soulless, bloodsucking stepmother just said I have to keep mingling. You know I wouldn’t leave your side if I didn’t have to, right?”
“Fly,” I said. “Be free.”
“I will come back to you,” he said, clutching his heart. “I will find you and come back to you.” He held out his hand and I held out mine and we did a whole melodramatic thing where we pretended to be reaching for each other as he backed away, then he suddenly rushed back. “It hurts to say good-bye,” he said, and grabbed me around the waist, bent me backward, and planted a pseudo-passionate kiss right on my startled lips. “I couldn’t just leave,” he said as he released me.
I tottered for a moment, regaining my balance. A quick, embarrassed glance around the room confirmed that Crystal was watching with her hands on her hips; Jonathan, George, and Izzy were all staring; and Mom and Luke were gaping from just a few feet away. Only Jakie, curled against Luke’s chest, seemed unaware of what had just taken place, his eyes gazing blankly in a completely different direction.
“My goodness,” Mom said as the three of them came close. “That was quite a kiss.”
“It was ironic,” I said quickly.
“Of course it was,” Mom said with a little smile.
I felt my face get hot, mostly because I wasn’t a hundred percent sure it was ironic. I mean, the whole back-bending part was clearly over-the-top and ridiculous. But was the kiss itself? I hadn’t really ever been kissed before—I wasn’t convinced I could distinguish a sort-of-real kiss from a totally mock one.
Fortunately Mom was changing the subject. “We’ve trick-or-treated,” she said, holding up a very full plastic pumpkin. “Jacob wasn’t crazy about the part where you were supposed to go up to people but he liked the part where you get candy. And he really liked the part where you eat candy.”
“He’s wiped out now,” Luke said, and Jacob’s smushed face against his shoulder seemed to confirm that. “You ready to go, Ellie? Or do you want to stay and I’ll come back to get you later?”
“I am very good to go,” I said. I had a lot to think about.
At home, I considered FaceTiming with Heather and telling her about the whole Aaron thing, but decided instead to take a long bath. Heather would probably ask me stuff like “Do you like him? What are you worried about?” and I didn’t want to start answering someone else’s questions until I could get my own thoughts straight.
So I tried to get my own thoughts straight as I lay in a bath that was more bubbles than water.
Aaron likes me. And he’s handsome and fu
So . . . why didn’t I let him take things to the next level?
Because I’m not ready for that yet. Because I don’t want to risk losing him as a friend. Because I don’t want to date anyone now. Because . . . I don’t know and it’s weird because he’s very good-looking and I like him so much and it would make our parents so happy.
Because it would make our parents happy?
Because it’s too easy, too comfortable, too right, and I’m contrary?
Because . . . because . . .
I got nowhere in the bath. Other than wet and wrinkly.
twenty
On Sunday, Mom, Jacob, and Luke left for London. They’d be staying in some super-grand hotel—VIP treatment all the way—but Luke would either be shooting segments or doing publicity most of the time, so Mom wasn’t all that pumped about it.
“I’ll miss you lots,” she said as we hugged good-bye. “Please be nice to your grandmother.” Grandma was coming that afternoon; Mom had arranged for a car to pick her up at the airport.
“I’ll be as nice to her as she is sane to me.”
“Be nicer,” she said. “And get your college application in on time.” She turned to George, who had arrived a few minutes earlier to help me work on my essay. “I’m relying on you to make it happen, since I won’t be here.”
“We’ll be talking every day,” I said. “You can remind me yourself.”
“I don’t trust you when I can’t see you,” she said. “You’ll probably ignore everything I’m saying and text your friends while I’m talking.”
I put my hand to my chest. “I would never.”
“She would,” Mom told George, who nodded in agreement. “Oh, and don’t you think Ellie should consider applying early to an Ivy League instead of Elton? I feel like her scores are good enough for her to aim a little higher. I’d hate for her to sell herself short.”
George opened and closed his mouth, looking a little panicked. “I’m not sure I’m the right person to—”
He was both interrupted and rescued by Luke, who appeared in the doorway.
“Car’s loaded,” he said. “And Jacob’s in his car seat. He knows something’s up—that kid’s no dummy. You’d better get out there.”
Mom’s mouth turned down. “I hope he likes the hotel babysitters, or it’s going to be a very long couple of weeks.” That little line appeared in her forehead. “I’m worried this is a mistake—taking him out of therapy, uprooting him . . .”
“A few weeks without speech therapy isn’t going to change his life, and I want you both with me.” Luke put his hands on her shoulders and steered her toward the hallway. “You worry too much. Come on.” He shoved her gently in the right direction, then came back to me for a quick hug. “Take care of yourself, Ellie. Sorry we’re abandoning you, but we’ll be back before you know it.”
“Right,” I said. “Have fun.”
“Fun? I’ll be working eighteen-hour days. Fun isn’t on the agenda.”
“No one feels sorry for you, you know.”
He flashed the gently roguish grin that made hearts beat faster all over America, told me he’d miss me lots, and left.
I went back to the kitchen, where George was typing on his laptop. He looked up when I entered. “They gone?”
“Yeah.” I threw myself into the chair across from him. “So . . . kegger tonight? You bring the coke.”
“As in cocaine?”
I rolled my eyes. “A-doy.”
“Just checking. Last time you asked me for Coke, it was a whole different thing.”
“Yeah. And you never gave it to me.”
“Are we really going to rehash this? Or are we going to work on your essay?”
“My essay sucks. It’s boring. And clichéd. I don’t like it.”
“So what are you going to do about it?”
“Complain a lot and whine.”
“You’re doing great!”
My phone dinged with a text. I glanced at it.
“Aaron?” he asked.
“Heather. She wants to know if you’re here and if she should come over to work.”
“Fine with me.”
I texted Heather to come and then looked up again. “Did you go back and get that cute catering girl’s phone number?”