There's a documentary I once saw called "My Date with Drew.

" It's about a man wh o is so determined to go on a date with Drew Barrymore that he gives himself thi rty days to achieve this goal and spends the last of his paycheck on a camera an d film to document his chase. Somehow (this is the part that seemed a little fis hy to me), through connections of some sort, he gets tickets to a movie premiere Drew will attend, and there he asks her out on a date. I'm pretty sure she humo rs him and agrees. I can't say for sure because I never saw the end, but it woul d be depressing and a pretty crappy documentary if she didn't, so let's just say she did. Sometimes it is that hard to make the seemingly impossible happen to you because you want it that badly. And sometimes you're just minding your own business and then it drops into your lap, something you never even wanted in the first place . This is one of those times. I've got a sister, Rachel, who is more like that stalker guy in the documentary than me--not to say she has a massive crush on Drew Barrymore, but she's a go-ge tter. No one believed her when she said she'd one day be a famous director, and now she works at Los Angeles Film School. She was a student there but it's a one -year program. After getting an associate's degree in film, she stayed at the sc hool and somehow got a job helping out one of her ex-instructors. She's got a lo ng way to go, of course, but she's only twenty-one and she just directed a TV co mmercial. That sounds lame, but whenever I see it I'm amazed that my sister made that happen. And then I get depressed that I'm nineteen and have contributed no thing to society, so I don't really like seeing the commercial, but either way i t's pretty cool. Rachel called me on Friday afternoon when I'd just finished the last of my class es at UCLA, the university I attend. It wasn't unexpected to hear from her becau se we make an effort to see each other as often as we can. Our family is from a suburb just outside of San Francisco, so we're the only family we have in Los An geles. "Hey," I answered my cell phone, trying to balance my textbook, my phone, and a cup of coffee as I walked from campus to my dorm. "Karen, what are you doing?" "I was about to go to my dorm to study." The words came out too fast before I ha d been able to think up a good lie. I braced myself for the judgment to come. "On a Friday?" And there it is. I can t understand why my sister looks down upon studying so much . My floormates complain about pressure from family to reach unattainable levels of success, but my sister thinks I should get out more. And my parents? They th ink so, too. Apparently in their world I don t work hard to do well in school. App arently I spend all my free time doing geeky recreational activities which, I m not g onna lie, is partly true because I do love World of Warcraft but they don t realize h ow little free time I have. I mean, there are 168 hours in a week. The "recommended" study time is twice the amount of time you spend in lecture. With six classes, a total of eighteen hours a week and I m not even including discuss ion section for each class, which adds an extra six hours I d have to spend thirty-si x hours a week studying that s a little over five hours a day. If I restrict study ti

me to weekdays, then we re looking at seven hours a day, on top of lecture and dis cussion. Eighteen plus thirty-six plus six is sixty, which leaves me with 108 ho urs left. When you factor in sleep, waiting around on campus between classes, roommate dis tractions, bathing and eating, socializing falls very low on the list. I chose to ignore the disdain in her voice. "What's up?" I held the phone betwee n my ear and my shoulder and took a sip of coffee as I paused at the crosswalk. I used my textbook to press the crosswalk button while waiting for her to speak. "Oh," she said with a dramatic sigh, "I'm just sitting here with two tickets to the premiere of Freeze Out tonight." I took the silence that followed as my cue to gush over her amazingness, since t hat's what she wants you to do half the time. I don't blame her, because who els e can you brag to but family? If I ever achieve something in life, of course I'm going to call her and brag. "That's so great!" I said, filling my voice with false excitement, as I crossed the street. "Good job, pal," I added for good measure. Rachel sighed. "Do you know what Freeze Out is?" "Sounds like an ice cream bar." "It's a movie. And not some low-grade film, but a real movie, with actors we've heard of. It's a pretty big deal that I got these tickets." "That is great," I said genuinely, stopping in front of my building and rooting around in my bag for my keys. I d be more excited but every week there s another rea son to be happy for her. "But why are you calling me?" "Because you're coming with me," she said, just as I was gingerly balancing the book on my leg to use my other hand to place my key into the lock and turn it. I paused in the doorway, holding the door open with my knee. "You're kidding." "You're welcome." "Rachel..." I trailed off. I got distracted when someone emerged from the elevat or and tried to squeeze past me in the doorway. "Sorry," I murmured. "For what?" she asked. "Nothing, um..." Finally I got through the door and sat down at a bench just ins ide. "I can't go. But thank you." "Why, what are you doing?" I could tell she didn't really want to know; there wa s a mocking tone in her voice that implied she knew exactly what I was going to do. "Come on, I really have to--" "You don't have to study!" "Look, I've actually got stuff to do, so I really can't, alright?" I only heard a frustrated sigh on the other end of course. That s what she does. When she can t get her way, she exhausts her long list of tactics and loud sighs were at the top of

the list. I can t say whether it s vindictive or genius because it always seems to work. "Come on, don't you have a billion other people to go with you?" "Oh, they all hate me because I'm better than they are." I laughed, but I couldn't tell if she was joking or not. Rachel sighed and didn't say anything for a while. "Then do you want to just com e over to my apartment for dinner? I'm making spaghetti. Come on, you can't say no to spaghetti." Being a college student, I can't say no to free food, period. Last night I went to a club meeting for Jewish students. And I'm not Jewish. I don't know why they didn't get suspicious when they saw the half-Asian girl sitting in a corner, st uffing her face with noodle kugel. "Okay then," I begrudgingly agreed. "But I expect homemade sauce." "Done."

"I don't smell spaghetti sauce on the stove..." I called out as I let myself int o Rachel's apartment with the key she'd given me. "Oh, fuck off," I heard her say from the kitchen. I laughed and wandered into the kitchen, where I found my sister sitting on the counter next to a jar of Ragu. "Nice jar of store-bought sauce," I commented, se tting my purse on the table. "Nice outfit," Rachel shot back as she lifted the lid off the pot of spaghetti i n boiling water and lazily stirred it around with a wooden spoon. I looked down at my track pants and UCLA hoodie. "What?" Rachel shrugged and set the lid back on the pot. "All I know is, track pants are for track--running, jogging... all sorts of "ing"s, really. And you do none of the above."

"I'm perfectly happy living a sedentary lifestyle," I told her. Well, sort of. I weigh a little more than I d like, but I can't be bothered to change that. I don' t have the time. I shrugged and opened my purse to take out the folded-up essay prompt I'd tucked into it just before I left. While Rachel busied herself with the spaghetti, I pulled out my pen and started writing a rough draft for Classics 23A. Let me tell you something about Classics 23A: I hate it. With a passion. It s a dumb two-unit class that people only take b ecause they need to fulfill a breadth requirement, and yet the professor tries t o take advantage of us by making us write papers every few weeks. "What are you doing?" I looked up, startled. "What?" "Tell me you didn't bring homework to dinner with your sister."

"Tell that to your jar of Ragu," I retorted dryly without looking up from my pap er. "Karen," Rachel sighed. "How many units are you taking this semester?" "Twenty-two." "Twenty-two?!" she exclaimed in disbelief. "How is that even possible?" I looked up at her. "Well, you need special permission from the chancellor if yo u're going to take more than 21.5, but I'd say having mono your first semester a nd practically dropping out of school for three months because of it is a pretty good reason, wouldn't you? I need to make up for that somehow." "And you think overwhelming yourself with schoolwork is the way to do that?" she asked skeptically, crossing her arms. "I'm not overwhelmed," I lied. "Really." She just stated it, not even in a questioning tone, and it was obvious she didn't believe me. "I'm not," I repeated quietly. "Karen," she said softly, "if you stress yourself out you're just going to wind up back in the hospital." I fought the urge to tell her that mono is a viral infection, not caused by stre ss. I think it s so dumb when people (namely, my family) try to add personal meani ng to something that has nothing to do with anything. I got mono because some as shole from the fifth floor used my toothbrush without my permission, not because I was stressed. "Sure," I said at last, deciding it would be best not to get into this argument again. "Come here," she said, and pulled me into a hug. Before I could wrap my arms aro und her, she leaned over a little farther to grab my essay prompt and the few wo rds I'd written on it so far. "Hey!" I tried to grab it back, but she held it over her head, using her height to her advantage. "Rachel, give it back," I whined pathetically as I struggled i n vain to reach for my paper. "Go to the premiere with me," Rachel pleaded in an equally whiny voice. I wonder where I get it from. "What? No!" "Come on, it's one night," she reasoned, holding the paper behind her back so I' d stop reaching for it and focus on her. When I sighed and finally met her gaze, she continued to speak. "And then I'll give it back after and you can go back t o your dorm and immerse yourself in all your nerdy, overachiever ways." "I'm not an overachiever," I corrected her sullenly. I may have been in high sch ool, but now I'm just struggling to do satisfactorily. I'm only two weeks into t he new semester--it's only early February--and I'm already lagging behind. "Sure you're not. Now please? Please, Karen, just go with me."

"Why me?" "Because I don't want to go alone and no one else will come with me. Please, Kar en." Rachel bit her lip and looked at me sadly. I couldn't fathom why no one else would go with her. She's decent company and I know she's got more friends than I have. After a few moments of silence, I shook my head and sighed. "I don't have anything to wear," I admitted, throwing my ha nds up in defeat. Yes, Rachel wins again. I told you, she knows what she wants a nd she always gets it. With me, I know what I want about half the time and I get it even less. Rachel went from mournful to excited in a matter of milliseconds. "Well, obvious ly. But that's no problem. Rose is just your size." Still holding onto my papers , she turned on her heel and left the kitchen, giving me no choice but to follow her through the tiny living room and into the only other bedroom in the apartme nt--the one that didn't belong to her. "And your roommate has no problem with you raiding her wardrobe?" I asked skepti cally, walking uncomfortably inside. I felt a little weird being in someone else 's room. As Rachel went straight for the closet, I busied myself by examining th e odds and ends on Rose's desk. I picked up a framed picture of a smiling guy wi th dirty-blonde hair who I assumed to be her boyfriend and set it back down agai n. "She owes me," she responded brusquely. I watched Rachel as she began sifting through the clothes in Rose's closet, mutt ering to herself, "No, no, no..." Finally she pulled out a reddish-brown dress d ecorated with black trim and silver beads placed in a pattern on it. "Wow. That's ugly." "It looks better on. And it's the only formal dress she owns, so come on." I caught the dress she tossed to me and held it an arm's length away from me to examine it more closely. It was certainly an unusual dress. It looked like it di dn't even belong in this century. "Chop, chop," Rachel said loudly, bringing me out of my thoughts, and I scurried into the bathroom to change into it. The last thing I heard her say before I cl osed the bathroom door was, "Oh, crap, the spaghetti," and I judged her a little because... how can you ruin spaghetti? The dress was a little difficult to get into, just because the back of it wasn't a simple zipper but a complicated column of individual silver buttons. As I put my back to the mirror and struggled to swivel my neck to see my hands as they t ried to match each button to the hole across from it, a magazine sitting on the bathroom counter caught my eye. Even though I was more than distracted with the buttons, I tried to see if I could read the cover in the mirror. After a few minutes and a few buttons, I made out that it was Us Weekly and was even able to read one of the cover stories. Kevin Jonas, GAY!? I had to laugh, j ust because of the way they'd written the word "GAY!?" Not only was it wrongly w ritten (the exclamation point follows the question mark, not the other way aroun d) but the fact that it was in all caps just added another level of hilarity. It followed his name like a medical title--instead of Kevin Jonas, M.D., he was Ke vin Jonas, GAY!? I wonder if he introduced himself like that. Just as I was pondering who this Kevin Jonas was and why the magazine seemed to

think that his possible homosexuality was so preposterous, I jumped at the sound of a sharp rapping on my door. "Karen, are you finished yet?" "Oh, um... not yet. Come in and do the last of my buttons," I called through the door. The door opened and Rachel, dressed in a silky green dress and her hair in a bun , entered the bathroom. "God, how are you perfect already?" I asked, exasperated. "Oh, it's a gift. Turn around," she told me, and I felt her fingers begin to fas ten the last of the buttons. "How's the spaghetti?" I questioned, rubbing my neck, sore from all the craning. "It seems to have... conglogerated into a giant blob." I stifled my laughter. "I don't think that's a word." Rachel ignored me. "Okay," she said, doing the final button, "let me put some ma ke-up on you and then we can go get burgers or something before the premiere. Ye ah?" I sighed. "Fine. Let's just get this stupid thing over with." "That's the spirit." "Holy crap," I breathed as we got out of the car. "What?" Rachel asked. "This way," she told me, pointing to a building in the dis tance that seemed to glow with bright lights. "I didn't think it would be so..." My mind searched for the right word while we walked toward the building. "Professional." "It's because you don't listen. I told you it was a real movie premiere." "Yeah, but you lie a lot." I call it Younger Sister Syndrome. I ve learned not to listen to most of the things Rachel says because she s lied so much to me in the p ast just to mess with me. No, Rachel, tiny men don t live in the computer to make it work, but thanks for te lling me that story. I really loved being scared of the computer for a week. And it may have taken me a while to figure it out, but no, a man won t come into m y room and pull my teeth out if I don t brush my teeth. And fuck you for hiding my toothbrush from me that one night. We walked for a while in silence, except for when I stumbled slightly because I wasn't used to high heels. I started to get a little nervous--I'd thought Rachel had meant maybe a gathering with mostly students from LAFS, showing a new film one of the professors worked on. Not a big event with valet parking and bright l ights and... there was only one thing missing. "Where's the red carpet?" I asked, breaking the silence. "We're not there yet. It'll be further up."

"There's a red carpet?" "You just said--" "Yeah, but I didn't think there actually was one." Rachel laughed. "How did you get these tickets, anyway?" I asked. "Okay," she said before taking a breath, "are you ready?" After I nodded, she co ntinued: "The instructor I help out--you know, Ms. Rosario?--anyway, one of her students, Alison, comes to me for advice on projects for Ms. Rosario because she knows I know what she likes. Now, Alison's mother--" I cut her off. "Never mind. I don't want to know." "Yeah, you really don't." By then we had rounded the corner and being at the center of all the bright ligh ts nearly overwhelmed me. There was in fact a red carpet. There were limousines pulled up to the curb, one after the other. As a young woman walked across the r ed carpet, the photographers on the sidelines who had once been standing idly by began furiously taking pictures, calling out to her, asking her to look their w ay. I could only stare, mesmerized, even though I had no idea who she was. It fe lt like I should have, though. Her presence and the way she walked seemed to dem and it of me. "Who is that?" I murmured to Rachel as we began walking down the red carpet. Whi le Rachel walked tall, proudly, as if she was famous and had a reason to be here , I couldn't help but slouch and look down at my feet. I didn't belong here and I wasn't a part of this scene. "I'm not sure," she whispered back. "She could be nobody. It's all in the way yo u walk." I was silent for the rest of the way until we got inside and Rachel handed over the tickets. "It's not all in how you walk." "In this business, it kind of is," she laughed. I don't know why but that comment struck me. If it was just about presentation-if everything was just about presentation--then what did anything else matter? W hy even bother with quality, then, if all of that's overlooked? "I'm going over there," Rachel told me, bringing me out of my reverie. "To schmo oze and such. Do something," she urged after a second. "Don't just stand in the corner eating your hair." Rachel sees everything as an opportunity to schmooze, as she calls it. I nodded and walked off to the side of the room. I still wasn't entirely sure wh ere I was or what was going on. It just seemed to be one giant social function. Where's the movie? I wondered as I watched people in fancy attire talk to other people in fancy attire as waiters circled around offering various appetizers. "Caviar torte?" Speak of the devil. I looked at the waitress who had just offered me a tray of said appetizers. "I d on't even know what that is," I admitted.

She shrugged. "Me neither," she said, beginning to smile, and we shared a nervou s laugh. She started to leave, but hesitated for a moment. "I'm kind of glad you didn't take one. Almost everyone has been asking me what kind of caviar it is." "Wow. I thought it was just the one kind." "Me too," she said with a small shrug. "Whatever pays the bills, right?" I nodded and watched as she moved on to offer appetizers to others. For a moment I wished I was a waitress serving appetizers. I belong there more than I do her e, in a dress that's not mine, wearing makeup I don't normally wear, at a premie re for a movie I've never heard of. I did some people-watching for a while, especially observing how well Rachel see med to fit in, talking and laughing with different social groups of people. From what I gathered, the movie was geared toward a teenage crowd, hence why I saw s o many people my own age. Even so, there still didn't seem to be anyone I could identify with. The door opened and nearly everyone in the room seemed to turn and stare at the three people who walked in. I overheard murmurs of the phrase "Jonas brothers" a nd laughed to myself when it occurred to me that one of these must be "Kevin Jon as, GAY!?", as the magazine had named them. I tried to guess which one it could be. I decided it had to be the one with freakishly straight hair because he seem ed the most preoccupied with his looks. Watching Kevin (Jonas, GAY!?) kept me amused until it was time to go and watch t he movie, which I was pleased to do because it would finally give me something t o do besides stand around awkwardly and feel out of place. Now I could sit awkwa rdly and feel out of place. Reluctantly I strayed from my post against the wall and joined all the other bit ches who had begun to crowd around the entrance to the double doors where, I ass umed, the theater was. I spotted Rachel just in front of me and poked her in the back. "Oh my God!" she exclaimed when I turned around. "I rock at premieres. Guess how many numbers I've gotten? Seven!" she giddily informed me. I was a little taken aback. "Slut." She shook her head. "Contacts, not guys. Though some contacts were male. But tha t's besides the point. They re all in the film business! I'm just so excited!" she added. We slowly entered the theater and slowly made our way down the aisles. "I'm happy for you," I told her, forcing a small smile. "How have things been going on your end?" she asked as we picked a row and scoot ed past people to find two empty seats in the middle. I shrugged. "Okay." She was about to ask me something when I looked past her and saw a man a few row s down trying to get her attention. "Rachel," I said, and nodded in his directio n. She looked over and saw him, gave a casual wave, and then turned back to me, cup ping a hand around her eyes to hide her expression from... him, I guess. "Oh my God," she breathed out, awestruck. "Oh my God. That's Tommy Ryan," she whispered

. "Never heard of him." "He directed this movie. I talked to him for a few minutes, I told him I went to LAFS and I'm interested in directing... I didn't think he actually cared. And h e's from Ireland; he has the accent and everything. I don't know why that makes him cooler but it just does." It's amazing how Rachel can make me feel like a failure without even trying. We' re both in the same room for the same amount of time. I briefly talk to a waitre ss about caviar while she manages to impress about everybody she talks to. I gue ss it really is all about presentation. "What are you waiting for?" I whispered back. "Go!" She grinned and got up, then paused and sat back down. "I'm sorry to... abandon you..." "Oh, just go." And now I get why nobody wants to attend functions with her. It's not that she l eaves them, so much as she tends to make them feel inadequate compared to her. I know I do. The movie started after a while, but ten minutes in I was bored. I don't know ho w much of this is Tommy Ryan's fault, but it was lame. Maybe I'm past the stage of movies for teenagers, where there seems to be a set formula to follow. The ba d part about movie premieres is that you can't really complain about the movie b ecause then the entire theater will get offended. Quietly I picked up my purse and gingerly stepped past others in the row. Once I got out and into the aisle, I walked down it until I reached the double doors. Opening one only slightly so as not to let light shine through into the dark the ater, I squeezed through back into the other room. I expected it to be empty, bu t it wasn't. There were still many people hanging out in there, talking and givi ng interviews. I wasn't sure why they weren't watching the movie like everyone e lse... unless they already knew it was crap. I spotted another room, the one from which the waiters had emerged, but now that the catering company had left, I figured it was safe to go investigate. I went in and it was basically a large kitchen, just a little empty. I wasn't sure what to do or where to go now. Waiting in this room for Rachel to return seemed to be the only option besides going back in and just watching the movie in all of its crappy glory, since she was my ride, but neither appealed to me. I saw that the trays of appetizers that the waiters had been circling the room w ith were set upon tables. Shrugging, I figured food could entertain me for the t ime being, so I grabbed a napkin and piled it with appetizers I'd either liked o r hadn't gotten a chance to try. I saw a few folded chairs leaning against a wall, so I set my napkin down on the corner of a table, opened up a chair, and sat in it. I took my napkin back and picked through what did and didn't look delicious. I wished I'd brought my purse with me. Rachel said it would clash with my outfit and made me bring Rose's tiny clutch because at least it would match dress. I u nzipped it and found nothing but an ugly silver clip with a butterfly on it and

a small mirror. My purse is always equipped with an emergency book, but I suppos e Rose and I are two very different people. The door opened as I was dissecting a chickpea crostini. I looked up and met eye s with a Jonas brother; I only knew it wasn't Kevin (Jonas, GAY!?) because he wa sn't the straight-haired one. Quickly I looked back down at my crostini and obse rved out of the corner of my eye as he picked up a napkin and began putting seve ral appetizers on it as I had done. And then he started walking toward me. I just kept looking at my poor, destroyed crostini as he reached just past me fo r one of the folded chairs next to me, leaning against the wall. "Sorry," he said, and somehow managed to set the chair down and unfold it, all t he while holding onto his appetizer-filled napkin. I was jealous of his skill. I guess having those skills is partly why he is famous and I am not. "Oh, it's okay." As he dug into the appetizers, I felt awkward. If we hadn't spoken to each other , then it would have been fine and we could have continued to just be, separatel y, in silence. But because of his stupid politeness, the silence had been broken and now I just sat in anticipation, not quite sure if that was all we'd ever sa y to each other or if something else was coming. I don't know why but once the s ilence is broken, both people feel an unnecessary obligation to keep talking. It 's strange. "How do you like it?" he asked. Oh, Jonas Brother. You would give in to that unnecessary obligation. I looked for an answer that wouldn't make me feel completely moronic. "The... mo vie or the chickpea crostini?" That's right, Jonas Brother, I am making fun of y our apparent inability to be specific. Suck on that. He gave a small chuckle. "I meant the first one, but both, I guess." I smiled politely at him. "The movie's crap. Sorry," I added, almost instinctive ly, seeing his surprised expression. "No offense if you're... in it." Jonas Brother laughed dryly. "No thank God it s just friend-of-a-friend stuff." "Well," I said, "I'm glad you had nothing to do with it." "Thanks," he said with a smile. I smiled back, then glanced down at my napkin when I realized I was staring. I g uess I wasn't aware of how charming Jonas Brother could be. I could feel a blush creeping across my cheeks, but I think I was lucky I wasn't giggling like a com plete moron. "You never answered the other question." I looked up. "Huh?" "The... what did you call it? Chickpea crustini?" He nodded his head toward my n apkin. "Oh, right! Um," I said, looking down at it. "It's also crap. But I think I'd ta

ke it over the movie. Um, obviously I did, or I wouldn't be sitting out here." He laughed. "I guess so. None of them look very appealing," he said, looking at the appetizers on his own napkin. "I thought maybe I'd find some form of dinner here, but I guess not." I smiled back but couldn't think of a witty response, so I shut the hell up. I t end to babble when I'm nervous, so I was proud of myself for not making a total fool of myself. "I'm Kevin," he said, holding out his hand. I raised my eyebrows in surprise, then realized I'd only assumed the straight-ha ired one was Kevin. And you know what happens when people assume. And then I fou ght the urge to add Jonas, GAY!? like I'd been doing in my head all evening. And then I laughed when I thought to myself, Well, I guess he doesn't introduce him self like that. And then I was a little disappointed that he was possibly gay be cause, even if you're just sitting and discussing appetizers with a famous someo ne, I think you get more street cred if there's even a chance that the famous so meone could be into you. It just makes for a better story. Because obviously I'm planning to tell this story to everyone. Even though it's not over. Oh, shut up, self. "Karen," I introduced myself, and shook his hand. I was glad he had a firm hands hake. I judge people very severely based on how firm their handshake is. I'm a horrible person. "It's nice to meet you, Karen," he said with a smile. I think it's funny that just a few hours ago when I was looking at the magazine cover while trying to button up my dress, reading that cover about him amused me , and now here I am talking to him. "You, too," I replied. We returned once more to picking at our napkins. He spoke again after a few minu tes. "I think I'm gonna take off..." I looked at him. "Oh... yeah, sure..." I guess I couldn't expect him to stay and talk to me when he actually has options. "It's just that I'm starving and I haven't had dinner, so..." "Yeah, no, I understand," I assured him. He stood up and threw the napkin into the garbage. I took advantage of the fact that his back was turned to me and I raised my eyes and watched as he slowly sta rted walking toward the doorway to the room where all the people were. He paused . "Unless..." he said, turning back around to me. "Huh?" I looked up at him. "Unless you'd be interested in ditching this and getting a real meal with me?" H e raised his eyebrows as though it was the most enticing offer anyone could ever

receive. And that night, for me, it was. "Sure," I responded, too awe-struck to say anything else. "I'll just be a few minutes," he said, folding the chair and leaning it back aga inst the wall. "Okay," I nodded, watching as he left the room. Like I said, I'm not Rachel. I'm not ambitious enough to work for what I want, s o I just kind of sludge along in life, letting life happen to me instead of the other way around. And that's why, instead of being on a path I've laid out for m yself, a path I want, I get myself into the most random and confusing situations , situations that ultimately fuck with my life because I stood idly by and let i t. What happened with Kevin not tonight, but in the long run is one of those situati ons. "I forgot to ask why are you here?" I turned away from the window to face Kevin, who was sitting next to me as he dr ove to a place he d suggested. "You mean for the premiere?" I asked, just to clarify. It was probably an obviou s question but I always ask them anyway because I don t like making a fool of myse lf. After he nodded, I thought of what I could tell him. I could tell the truth and say, Because my sister s got connections and she blackmailed me into it. But I m a nobody, which means... I could be anybody. I could tell him I had a supportin g role in the movie. I could say I produced it. I could say my band played a par t in it and then we could connect over being musicians, even though I couldn t pla y an F chord to save my life. What I want to do is maximize the amount of potential interest while minimizing the truth. I was always good at optimizations problems in calculus. Picking at the suede material of the car s interior, I glanced back at him. "Black mail." "Really?" Grinning, he glanced over at me for a second before turning his eyes b ack to the road. "And how is that?" "I ve got a sister," I said with a shrug, as if that explained it all. He waited for me to say more but spoke when he realized I was finished. "Well, I guess I can understand that. I ve got brothers." "So I ve heard." Silence again. I looked down at the ugly dress I was wearing and began picking a t one of the silver beads that adorned it. I should have asked him something abo ut his brothers but I didn t want to seem nosy. And it wasn t a nosy question, but I guess I assumed that because he was famous he d be more touchy about personal que stions. There I go again with assuming. "Oh, we re almost here." "Where are we going?" He grinned sheepishly and a faint blush appeared on his cheeks. "Don t judge me." "You re a Jonas Brother. I think some judgement must come with the package." As he laughed, I assured him, "I won t judge you."

"Taco Barn." "Classy." "I knew it," he said with a shake of his head. "No, I mean, it inspires such a great image. A barn of tacos. That s great." I m amu sed by any fast food restaurant that puts the word barn in their name. It automati cally takes it down several pegs on the class meter. He looked like he was somehow inconveniencing me. "We can go somewhere else; we don t have to..." God, why was he so damn polite and accommodating? "No, I m just kidding. I had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for dinner last ni ght, so this is definitely a step up," I said truthfully. I m always trying to con serve meal points by taking food from the dining hall at school sometimes I even m ake sandwiches and store them in Ziploc bags to eat later. Last night, I spent s o long reading for one of my classes that I missed the dinner hours entirely and had to settle for one of the sandwiches I d made. Yes, college life is wonderful. He laughed loudly like I had been kidding, so I just smiled and played along. Be cause I m totally not dirt-poor. "So what do you want?" He gestured to the window next to him and I saw we d alread y pulled into the parking lot and were heading for the drive-through lane. "I co uld recite the entire menu for you," he said, scratching his sideburns, "but wha t s the fun in that?" I shrugged. "I don t know Mexican food that well." "Trust me, this isn t really Mexican food," he muttered, and I laughed. "It thinks it is, though, so don t insult it." We pulled up to the menu. Kevin just looked at me with an expression that seemed to say, Bitch, I know what I want. Come on, hurry up and order so I can fucking get on with it. "I guess I ll have a " I squinted to read the menu. "A chicken taco and a cheesy bee f burrito." Then I remembered that, while I may be in a fancy dress taking a bre ak from a movie premiere, I was still a college student. "Make that two cheesy b eef burritos," I told Kevin. Now, no matter where I am, I m always thinking of how I can bring food back to my dorm with me. Everyone on my floor has a surplus of Ziploc bags and Tupperware that they keep in their backpacks in the event that they ll need to sneak food. I m not sure if I should be proud or ashamed of how good I am at it. He raised his eyebrows in approval but didn t say a word; he just leaned toward th e speaker and ordered for the both of us. As he did that, I looked back down at my tiny clutch that didn t even deserve to be called a purse and wondered how the hell I was supposed to cram a cheesy beef burrito into it, especially without hi m noticing. We waited for our food in silence. I wondered how often these bouts of awkward s ilence would come to haunt us. It kept reminding me that we were nothing but two strangers who happened to be hungry. There s something to be said about eating takeout in fancy clothes in the backseat

of a car parked in a deserted parking lot. It s just silly. You can t avoid looking silly, either. We d moved to the backseat because there was more room to spread all our food out. I had a napkin tucked into the front of my dress (very attractive, I m sure) and two spread out on my lap. Kevin had also adorned himself with napkins to avoid s pills. The two large bags of food sat on the seat between us, as did a small con tainer each of guacamole, sour cream, lime wedges, and salsa. We d decided to spli t a platter of supreme nachos, which we d balanced precariously atop the two armre sts between us. "I officially love Taco Barn," I declared with my mouth full as I reached for my soda. "I told you," he responded just before taking a large bite from his own burrito. "And you haven t even had the cheesy beef burrito. I can t believe you ordered two. One of those and you re done." "Really?" I looked down at the chicken soft taco I was eating. "Then screw all t his extra nonsense," I decided, and ripped off the extra parts of tortilla that were left over at the ends. For some reason he found that hysterical and for the rest of the evening, nonsense became our favorite word. When I couldn t eat another bite, I removed the napkin that had been down my dress and looked at Kevin, who was wiping his mouth and looked like he was finished a s well. "Hey, don t look at me," he said, noticing my glance, "you ve still got another chee sy beef burrito to finish." I groaned. I was too full to even pretend. "Honestly, the only reason I ordered a second one was so I d have something to take home. And something s telling me it s n ot going to fit in my purse." I sat back in my seat and burped, staring sadly at my uneaten burrito. I hate when food goes to waste. He laughed. "Why would you do that?" Oh, right. He s not like me. He can eat whenever he wants, lucky bastard. For a fe w brief moments, I d forgotten. "I go to UCLA," I informed him. "Being starving sort of goes with the territory of being in college." "Really?" I nodded. "You re surprised." "A little," he admitted. "You don t meet many starving college students ngs." at these thi

I folded the napkin in my lap and set it on the empty tray between us that had o nce held our plate of nachos. "Who do you meet?" He shrugged, giving a small ironic smile. "Fuckers, mostly.... What?" he asked, seeing my look of shock. "You re a Disney kid! Disney kids don t curse!" Kevin gave a hollow laugh. "I m also twenty-one," he said, ripping the napkin out from under his collar and tossing it into the empty nacho tray. "And I m sick of b

eing called a Disney kid." I picked up the empty plastic sauce containers. "Sorry," I murmured, concentrati ng on stacking them. "It s okay, I m used to it, I guess." Seeing that we d put all our garbage into the nacho tray, I gently closed the lid. "Are you the oldest?" I asked, looking straight at him, and he nodded. "What s it like?" I asked. "I mean, the stuff you re doing is obviously geared toward a much younger audience, so don t you ever just want to act your age?" I hoped I wasn t be ing too forward, asking such a personal question, but I felt like we d gotten some what close in the past hour. You don t with someone in the backseat of a car, wear ing a significant amount of napkins, without gaining the right to cross some per sonal boundaries. Kevin looked at me for a few moments, I guess trying to decide whether or not to give a real answer. "Are you the oldest?" he finally asked. I was confused as to why he d ask me but I answered anyway. "It s just me and my sis ter, but I m the younger one. Why?" He set the nacho tray on the floor of the car and picked at something I couldn t s ee on the seat between us. "Did you ever... play with something together, you an d your sister, and one day she just stopped?" I thought back to when Rachel and I used to play in our playroom. I thought of t he dolls we played with, our toy kitchen, our Play-Doh factory, our chalk, hopsc otch, the board game phase we went through. I thought of how we started playing something together, but then a few months would go by and it would just be me be cause I was the only one who thought it was fun anymore. "All the time," I admitted, looking up at him. "I think... I think that s what it might be like one day. It hasn t gotten old yet, keeping a clean image for our younger fans, but I m scared that one day it will. I don t want it to get old for me because..." He sighed and scratched the back of h is neck as he thought. "I guess I don t know what would happen to us then." Remembering all the times I d sat alone and wished Rachel would come back and play with me, I said, "I don t want it to get old for you, either." He smiled slightly and nodded. "Oh," he said, "I should get you a bag for your m assive burrito. One that s not, you know..." he trailed off, motioning to the used bags between us. "Covered in grease." "Thanks," I said as he bent down to put on the shoes he d cast aside when we start ed to eat. While he stepped outside the car and started heading toward the resta urant, I put on my own shoes and gathered up our garbage. I stepped outside the car door and walked to the garbage can, a little sad that our evening together w as coming to a close. I wrestled with the already filled-to-the-brim garbage can, willing it to accept my garbage. I wasn t sure why, or how, but as I was pushing the discarded Taco Ba rn bag deeper into the can, something happened a quick something, like a glint of l ight, that lasted for less than a second. Suspiciously I stopped and looked arou nd the deserted parking lot but saw nothing only Kevin, coming out of Taco Barn wit h a bag. "Did you see something just then?" I asked, walking toward the car. Without resp

onding, he hurried to meet me at the car so he could open the door for me. "Huh?" I leaned against the car and looked around me again. "I don t know. I thought I sa w something." Kevin put one hand on the roof of the car, leaning toward me, and took glanced a round the parking lot. "You sound like my little brother. He s always asking me to check under the bed and in the closet for monsters." I laughed, though not too much because I know what it s like to be the little sist er asking someone to check the closet for monsters. "You do check, don t you?" I a sked seriously. I can t stand people who torture their younger siblings. I may get along with Rachel now but she was a bitch when we were growing up. Well, as muc h of a bitch as a nine-year old can be. He gave me a weird look. "Uh, yeah. When I can." I nodded approvingly. One point for you, Kevin. "Wait, he asks you to check the closet for monsters and yet he s in a band?" "No," he said, smiling and shaking his head, "this is the youngest one. He s eight . But I guess I could take a look around for you. That tree over there does look pretty menacing." "I think I ll live." The conversation was killed once more because of me. I m great at that. "Your bag," he said, handing me the plastic bag he d been holding. "I got you an e xtra burrito. At least now you can go one more day without dying of starvation." "Thanks." I looked down at it, then back at him. "For dinner and everything." We were standing so close. It was getting kind of uncomfortable. "Thank you. I had fun tonight." I nodded, and there was a lull when both of us stayed as we were, not speaking, ju st looking. He kissed me. I thought there would be more build-up to the moment, but really it came out of nowhere. The moment didn t call for a kiss. The evening wasn t leading up to a kiss. What the hell, Kevin? But I ll accept it. I don t think it s quite right to refuse kisses from a famous pers on, so I took it. It was over soon enough and we smiled awkwardly at each other and got in the car. The ride back was a little more quiet, but this time the silence was ul than awkward. Thoughts filled my mind as I looked out the window. d that I had to get back to my old life, to track pants and midterms ing to stay afloat with my twenty-two units. The peaceful atmosphere y head, at least. The chaos had returned. "Can I call you sometime?" more peacef I remembere and struggl was gone in m

I turned back to Kevin, surprised at both his breaking the silence and his words . "Sure, I I guess." I didn t see why not. I knew he wouldn t actually call, and besid es, if a famous person asks you for your number, you give it to them. Their inte ntions are besides the point. I was beginning to realize that I seemed to have significantly lower standards a round famous people. It doesn t matter. It all makes for a better story. I still d on t know who this imaginary audience is that I m telling the story to but I ll work t hat out later. He spoke again as he watched me program my number into his phone. "I feel like I should say something..." I looked up and, having finished, handed his phone bac k to him. "I don t want you to get the wrong idea about tonight. I really did have a good time tonight." "Yeah, me too," I said, a little suspiciously because I knew there was a but com ing at some point. With me there s always a but. Rachel s the girl who gets the and. Someone would say to me, "You did a great job but not the best. Tough luck," an d Rachel would get, "You did a great job and you win a pony." "But I just... I don t have time for a girlfriend, so if you thought " "Oh, God, I don t have time for a boyfriend," I blurted out. "Really?" He seemed surprised. "Almost every second of every day is planned out," I admitted. "Studying, classe s, meals, sleep. And that s it. I d be studying right now if my sister hadn t blackmai led me. I brush my teeth in the shower, I haven t been to the movies in months, an d some days I sleep in the library and then when I wake up I study some more." I shrugged and said, "I m a mess. I m not looking for anything." I was surprised to h ear myself saying any of this because I d spent so much time and energy denying th at very statement to Rachel and my parents. The car rolled to a stop; I noticed we were back at the entrance to where the movie premiere was held, but I kept lo oking at him, waiting for a response. "Okay," he said, nodding slowly, looking a little surprised at my confession. "I m glad we re both on the same page." I wasn t sure what that meant. I knew the expression, of course, but I couldn t thin k of how it applied here. We weren t on the same page. He didn t know at all what I was going through. And what kind of book am I reading in which we re both mentione d? I let it go and watched him get out of the car, then come around to my side of t he door. "Thanks again, Karen," Kevin said, opening the door as I got out, bag of burrito s in hand. "You saved me from a night of nonsense." We both burst into laughter at the mention of our word of the night, but when it died down I felt the need to reply. "Have a good night." "Yeah, you too. I ll see you," he said with a smile, and walked into the building. It took me a moment to regain my stream of thought and, once I did, I walked ins ide as well, bag of burritos and all. The movie was somehow still playing; I fou nd an empty seat in the back but was too preoccupied to watch. I could only thin k of the nonsense that had gone on that night.

"So how was your night?" "Oh, you know," Rachel sighed, looking from the stoplight to where I was sitting in the passenger seat. "The movie was dull but I schmoozed the hell out of the director. I mean, it was no date with Kevin Jonas," she added, nudging me in the elbow, "but I got by." "It wasn t a date!" I groaned. "There was dinner. There was conversation. There was a giving of a number and I m ver y proud of you for that, by the way and there was a kiss." I sighed, regretting that I d told her everything. "Yeah, but you don t understand t he circumstances. It was a weird kiss. I don t know," I shrugged. "I don t trust it. " Rachel shook her head and the drive was silent for most of the way. "Can you drop me off at my dorm?" I asked when we neared the turnoff for UCLA. " I m tired and " "And you have lots of studying to do, I know," she finished for me in a bored vo ice, driving toward the exit ramp. "Is it okay if I return the dress next weekend?" "Yeah, why not," she replied in a bored tone. I think we were both exhausted fro m the evening. I closed my eyes and leaned against the window. "Hey, we re here." Opening my eyes, I realized I d fallen asleep. I sighed tiredly and reached into t he backseat of the car for my own purse, not the anorexic clutch I d had to carry around all night. "I ll see you later," I yawned, opening the car door and stepping outside. "Wait." I paused and turned back around, then motioned for her to roll down the window. "My essay prompt, please." Rolling her eyes, she reached behind her and handed me a crumpled up piece of pa per. "I thought you d forget." "Nice." I waved her off and headed into my building. Pausing to take my key out of my purse, I saw a couple of people just stepping into the elevator. "No, wait !" I said, though I knew they couldn t hear me. This is a fairly common scene. Not me in this godawful dress, but someone in the elevator just as someone else is approaching the door. If you know the person i n the elevator, then of course they ll hold it for you. But if you don t, it all com es down to how nice they are and what kind of mood they re in. It s worse at night b ecause you to have your card swiped by the security monitor, which leads to more delay. So all you can really do is smile and try look pathetic. One of them saw me and pressed the door open button as I unlocked the front door. "Thank you," I addressed him, hurrying to the security monitor while fumbling in my purse for my university ID at the same time. After my ID was swiped, I hurried to the elevator, my heels clicking on the hard

floor with every step. "Thank you," I said again, breathlessly, pressing the bu tton for my floor. My company in the elevator was a girl I didn t know and the guy who had held the elevator for me. "You re welcome." I felt him look me over, probably confused by my formal attire, but he didn t say anything. I stared ahead and waited for my floor. The elevator stopped at the second floor . The girl got off without saying a word; the doors closed and we moved back up. "Where d you just come from?" I turned to look at him and caught a glimpse of straight blonde hair and blue ey es. "Oh, uh... just an obligatory thing." He nodded and I felt the need to recip rocate the question. "What about you?" "Oh..." He looked down at his own hoodie and jeans. "Playing Guitar Hero with my friend in Hedrick," he said, naming the dormitory just across the way. "Obvious ly." I laughed. "Obviously." The elevator stopped on my floor and I felt the need to say something. "Uh, bye." I looked at him and gave a shy smile as I stepped out of the elevator and onto my floor . "Good night," he said with a little wave, just as the doors closed. Smiling to myself, I slowly walked down the hall to my room. My mind was still w andering as I unlocked the door to my room and stepped inside. My watch told me it was 12:54 am, which means my roommate was going to be awake for another three hours or so. "Hey, Karen," I heard as I opened the door. "Whoa," she said, seeing my dress. " Where d you go?" "A movie premiere, actually," I said, shutting the door and walking over to my s ide of the room. I set my things down and slipped off my heels. "Wow." She widened her brown eyes in surprise, and I didn t blame her. A typical F riday night for me involves using my computer or instant messaging some friends. "What movie?" "Something called Freeze Out." I sighed when I remembered the column of buttons down the back of the dress, but Molly saw and came over to help. "What was it like?" I thought of my evening with Kevin. "It was actually pretty cool." "So I should go see it when it comes out?" She finished the last button and sat on her bed, watching me. "Thanks. Oh, and no, the movie s horrible. I kind of skipped out on that and my fr iend and I just went and got tacos, but it was fun." I can call Kevin a friend n ow, right? As I changed into pajamas and wiped off my make-up, Molly and I talked about our days and other insignificant things. I left out Kevin because our Taco Barn exp erience wasn t a big deal but she d blow it out of proportion like Rachel did. I guess you could say we were friends, but it was only because it was forced upo

n us, with us being roommates and ple and we probably wouldn t have e thing. Every once in a while we bout the extent of our friendship

all. By that I gotten to know ll have dinner and I think we

mean we were just different peo each other if not for the roommat together or something, but that s a re both okay with that.

Then I remembered the burritos. I put the bag in the mini-fridge Molly and I sha re, figuring I could have one for dinner tomorrow and one for dinner the next ni ght. As you can tell, I think about food a lot. It s partly the whole college stud ent mind set, but it s mostly just because I really love food. Like, I daydream ab out it. Not tonight, though. Once I crawled into bed and closed my eyes, there was one f ace going through my mind not the face of Seor Bauelos, Taco Barn s mascot, though he d id make a pretty kick-ass cheesy beef burrito and not the face of Kevin Jonas (I m pr etty sure he s already pretty busy, making appearances in the fantasies of enough young girls as it is). It was Elevator Boy. Why not Kevin? For one, Kevin doesn t live here. He may reside somewhere in LA but he lives a dif ferent life; he might as well live in Canada for all it matters. Elevator Boy, h owever, goes through the same troubles I do, being a student here. I ll tell you s omething else: I felt more in that thirty-second ride with Elevator Boy than I d id with Kevin all evening, including the random kiss Kevin threw in. I don t know who he thinks he s kidding with that. Maybe he really is gay. Or, as Us Weekly put it, GAY!? (And no, I m never going to get sick of saying it like that.) And just for fun, I ll give you another: I m never going to see Kevin Jonas again. Or that s what I thought, anyway, as I drifted off to sleep with Elevator Boy on m y mind. After the movie premiere business, life went on as normal classes, studying, compu ter games, all of it. Until my phone rang two weeks later. It was a Wednesday and I d just come out of my eleven to twelve class. I had anoth er from one to two, leaving me with just an hour of free time. I hate when that happens. You can t go back to your dorm because it s a fifteen minute walk each way, leaving you with only half an hour to spend before you have to go back to campu s. So I spent my free time the way most people do eating lunch under a tree. I checked who was calling but it just said Private Number. I shrugged and answer ed. "Hello?" "Hey, Karen?" It was a familiar voice but I couldn t quite place it. "Yes..." "It s Kevin." Not... "Jonas," he added. "Kevin Jonas." I was too surprised to make fun of him for saying his name in a 007 manner. "Hi," I said, now feeling awkward, confused, and still hungry. I picked up my sa

ndwich and resumed eating. "Hi." There was an awkward pause (have I told you I m really good at making those? ) and I wasn t going to break it. "How have you been?" he finally asked. I didn t answer immediately because I d just taken a bite from my sandwich. "How have you been?" Kevin repeated, as if I hadn t heard it the first time. "Good," I said once I d swallowed. "How about you?" "Good, thanks for asking." More silence. "Okay then. I m glad we re both good." Ordinarily I would have contrib uted more to the conversation but I had no idea what he was doing, calling me, s o until I figured it out he was on his own. Come on, give it up and get to the point. "Did you eat those burritos?" Seriously, Kevin? "Yeah," I replied. And I had. It s probably a little weird that I had a cheesy bee f burrito for dinner three nights in a row, but those burritos are downright ama zing so I had no shame. "Thanks, by the way," I added. "No problem.... Listen, Karen, I had a question to ask you." And here we go. Get to the goods. "Yeah?" "Do you want to hang out with me this weekend? We could get some dinner... and t here s this club that just opened that sounds pretty cool. Are you at all interest ed?" I thought about it, chewing in silence. Was he asking me out on a date? But he d s aid he didn t have time for a girlfriend, so... what was this? Was he expecting so mething? Sex? I guess it s possible I d made such an impression on him the other nig ht (I m sure I was such a vision in Rose s hideous dress, eating tacos and burping) that he wanted to hang out again... but as what? As friends? As friends who kiss ? Because if every one of his kisses were as abrupt and uncomfortable as his fir st, then no thank you. But if I said no I d be kicking myself for the rest of time. I was intrigued as he ll. "Sure. It sounds fun," I remarked, even though clubs are not my scene at all. I m not big on drinking and I can t dance for the life of me. "Great." He sounded relieved. "How s Saturday at seven?" "That sounds good." "Can you give me your address so I can pick you up?" I obliged and, after a few parting words, we hung up. I realized I was excited t o hang out with Kevin again, even if I was confused about why he d be calling me o ut of the blue, just because I d had fun with him last time.

I got through the rest of the week rather quickly. I looked forward to my evenin g out with Kevin (what else can I call it, if it s not a date?) at the end of the week and it kept me going. I think I needed it now more than ever, especially wi th the semester s first round of midterms coming up in a couple of weeks. "Where are you going?" I turned to look at Molly and saw she was sitting on her bed reading a book, wat ching as I went through my closet looking for something to wear. I wasn t sure how I was expected to dress. I mean, just what did he mean by dinner ? Was it a fancy restaurant or was it Taco Barn? I wished I could call Kevin back and ask why but two reasons kept me from doing it: one, it would seem a little obsessive, and t wo, right, I don t have his number. "Oh, um..." I wracked my brain for something to say that didn t involve explaining everything. "My friend and I are hanging out today." I shrugged and turned back to my closet. "Then why can t you find something to wear?" I followed her eyes to the growing pi le of clothing rejects sitting on my bed. "We re going out for dinner and then to some club." I cringed as I said the word c lub just because it was so un-me. "So I have to look fancy yet casual and classy yet fun," I sighed, looking at a pair of jeans from my closet and throwing them onto my bed. Instead of annoying me with something like, "Then why don t you just call them and ask?", Molly got up and started helping me choose something to wear. We finally settled on dark skinny jeans (mine), a pair of black boots (hers), an d a shirt (someone down the hall s). When Molly got the hint that it was something more than a simple hangout session with "a friend" (though I still don t know wha t that "something more" means), she insisted that I wear make-up and take my hai r out of its perpetual ponytail. I obliged, but only because I was too terrified of not knowing what to expect. "Have fun," Molly told me as I grabbed my keys on the way out the door. "With wh atever the hell you re doing." I laughed nervously and headed toward the elevator. Kevin hadn t called yet but I decided I d wait downstairs until he did. Once I pressed the elevator button and b egan waiting, I refused to let my mind race with questions about this whole thin g because I d find out soon enough. The doors opened and I found myself staring at Elevator Boy. I shyly smiled at him and stepped inside. "Hi." I saw that the button for the gr ound floor, G, had already been pressed, so I just stood as the doors closed shut and we continued on the way down. "Hi." He looked over at me. "Where are you going?" "I m hanging out with a friend," I said casually, briefly meeting his gaze before looking back down. "What about you?" "I m taking a study break. I m just going to get dinner at the dining hall," he said with a shrug. "I d ask you to come, but..." My heart sank. But I have this mysterious thing to do with Kevin Cock-blocker Jona

s. See, what did I tell you? I m always getting the but s. "Right," I said after a f orced chuckle. Inwardly, the part of me that wasn t damning Kevin Jonas for making me unavailable was gleefully doing a dance because Elevator Boy indicated that, were I not otherwise occupied, he d ask me to go to dinner with him! He must be s omewhat interested in me. But, you know. Kevin s cool too. It s not like Kevin doesn t have a billion other girl s who would swoon at the chance to spend an evening with him, but whatever. "My name s Karen," I blurted out. Elevator Boy smiled. "I m Lucas." Lucas. We shook hands just as the doors opened on the ground floor. He walked a little ahead of me to open the door for me; I smiled, said goodbye, and walked outside to wait for Kevin. It wasn t long before my phone rang and it was Kevin, telling me he was parked out side waiting. I wandered over to the curb and was mildly surprised to see his ca r was actually decent by that I mean, it wasn t bright red and glittery with spinnin g rims and gold exhaust shooting out of its pipe. It was just a car. Taking a deep breath, I opened the passenger side door and got inside. "Hey," Kevin greeted me warmly. "You hungry?" (With such a casual greeting, it s obviously not a date, right? Put a check in the friends column.) I grinned. "Always." He laughed. "Me too. There s a restaurant downtown that s I hear s pretty good." He pu lled away from the curb and we were on our way. On the ride there, we talked about casual things music, a conversation inspired by what was on the radio; our days; and, believe it or not, we talked for ten minu tes about the best way to eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It was all ver y casual, and so easy. When we finally arrived, I saw that the restaurant was seriously upscale. I felt a little underdressed but no one seemed to mind. Once Kevin confirmed his reser vation, the waiter began to lead us to a table. "I d prefer a table outside, please, if it s no bother," Kevin interrupted politely. The waiter looked at him for a moment, slightly perplexed as did I; who wants to eat outside at night in February? but he complied and walked us to one of the tabl es on the deck overlooking a body of water. I went with it, though. Who was I to complain? I opened the menu and widened my eyes when I saw the prices. Kevin noticed and s aid, "Don t worry about it. It s on me." (So he s paying that s one for the date column.) "It better be." Kevin opened his menu and took a look. "God, these prices."

"We don t have to eat here," I reminded him. "I m easy." "No," he said, shaking his head and frowning slightly, focusing on the menu. "Th is place is supposed to be good." (It wasn t.) We didn t talk much as we looked at the menu. I decided on a reasonably cheap dish a chicken salad and, once we d ordered, we were left to make small-talk over the bask et of bread we were brought. "So what have you been up to lately?" I looked up from the slice of bread I was buttering. "Not much. Classes, mostly. That s about it." Sadly, that was the truth. He nodded. "How are you handling the workload?" I shrugged. "It s do-able, but it s not easy. Sometimes I think I m going crazy with t he little free time I have. This," I said, gesturing to what we were doing, "is all I ve really had all week." He smiled. "Then I guess we d better make it count." Knowing I d just drive myself crazy with analysis, I decided to change the subject . "How are you?" "I m busy, too. We have a tour in the summer, so right now it s lots of rehearsing, making appearances at places, running around and being everywhere all the time. Like you, I guess, but... different." I nodded. Very different. "But I m glad to be home," he shrugged. Very, very different indeed. I wouldn t admit it but I missed home more than anyth ing. There were a lot of things I missed about it. "You re lucky, then," I spoke without thinking. He didn t sound surprised. Of course he hears that all the time. "What about?" I shrugged. "You get to be home." "Well, sort of." Kevin took a sip from his glass of water and continued. "My fam ily s from New Jersey; we just moved out here because it was... easier... I guess. " "I m from just outside of San Francisco, so LA s not my home, either," I confided. "Do you miss it?" I was surprised by the question. I hadn t been asked that in a while. I got the qu estion a lot for the first few weeks of my fist semester, but now I guess everyo ne assumes homesickness just goes away after that. It doesn t. It gets easier but it never goes away. "Yeah." "Me too," he admitted. "It s kind of weird here, isn t it?"

"What do you mean?" "All of it. People are different... aren t they?" I just nodded. I knew exactly what he meant. I thought back to Rachel and what s he d said about presentation. I think there was more of an emphasis on that here. I think that s where she got it from. Our food arrived a little after that. My salad was surprisingly average for some thing that cost an entire outfit. We chatted a little over dinner, but I think o ur conversation about home left us engrossed in our own thoughts. The only moment worth mentioning was when, as I was telling Kevin about Classics 23A (aka the class that can go fuck itself), he moved his hand dangerously clos e to mine on the table. Close enough to feel the heat from his hand, but our fin gers weren t always actually touching. (Date?) As we left the restaurant, neither of us said a word. I couldn t think of anything nice to say about it except that the lighting was nice, but I don t think that s mu ch. Just in case, though, I kept myself prepared with that one should he happen to ask what I thought. We made small-talk as he drove to the club, though my stomach was turning around inside me because I was dreading it. Rachel in a club? Absolutely. Me? No way. There was a long line to get in, but all Kevin had to do was... well, be Kevin. And we got in. The loud music raped me upon arrival. It was pulsating, and we had to shout to b e heard. Unsure of what to do, I just followed him to the bar, where he returned with two beers. I shook my head as he offered me one; he just shrugged and took a drink of his own. This was weird. Wasn t it? People were dancing. He set the beers down and sort of motioned for me to follow him he didn t take my hand, mind you. He just motioned. Like, Hey, come here if you want to. If you don t, that s cool too. It s all G. (Friends?) I felt ridiculous. He began swaying back and forth in front of me, and I stood t here thinking, Great. What do I do with that? I tried to mimic his movements and go with the song but I m pretty sure I looked like a moron. Whatever the evening out was for us, it was going horribly. And then it started getting better. When we took a break from dancing, Kevin looked around and looked back at me. "A re you having fun?" "No!" I exclaimed emphatically. He shrugged and shook his head. "Yeah, me neither." I laughed, mostly out of relief that I wasn t alone in feeling bored. "But you too k us here!"

"I know but... I thought I d try something new. I thought it d be different. Anyway, I think we re done here." We re done here? What did that even mean? "So do you want to get out of here?" "Yeah." We left pretty abruptly and got back in the car. "Where to?" Kevin asked, sitting at the wheel. I shrugged. As much as I didn t want to say it because Kevin and I hadn t at all bon ded in any way, because it would mean a return to my boring life, because nothin g had happened, I couldn t think of anything else to prolong the already strange n ight. I sighed and said it anyway: "Home?" The drive back was mostly silent. I think we d both been expecting something more out of this night. I don t know what that something more was. "Hey, turn down here," I said suddenly, motioning to a street a few streets over from my dorm. He was confused but he did it anyway. He listened when I told him exactly where to park. "So," I said, turning to him in the parked car, "this evening s been kind of... we ird " "I m sorry..." "No, don t apologize. I just wanted to know: Do you want ice cream?" He grinned and unbuckled his seat belt. "Always." I put my hand on the door handle but paused when I saw him lean over and look fo r something in the glove compartment. He found a pair of sunglasses and put them on. "Sunglasses? Really?" "I don t want to get recognized," he said with a shrug. "You didn t seem to have that problem before," I commented lightly as we got out o f the car. He looked uneasy and I decided to drop it. We stepped out of the car and headed toward my favorite ice cream place well, my f avorite one in LA that happens to be conveniently located so close to my dorm it s c alled Broc s Ice Cream Palace and it s magical. "And the single scoop is actually two scoops," I told him excitedly as we walked t oward it. "A double is three, and a triple is four." "That sounds magical," Kevin agreed with a laugh. "But what do you do if you jus t want a single scoop?" "Then you order a single scoop. Duh." I knew what he meant but it was fun teasin g him. "No, but if you only want one scoop of ice cream." He held the door open for me.

"Then you get the kids scoop. " I walked through the door and waited for him to foll ow. "But, you should know," I murmured quietly, "only pussies get the kids scoop. " "I wasn t planning on it," he laughed. We got in line and stared at the menu boast ing their forty flavors of homemade ice cream. "Do you know what you want?" he a sked after a long silence. "No." I shook my head sking. "I m paying." "Come on..." "No. You ve done everything. It s just ice cream. Now hurry up and decide." Just before we reached the front of the line, Kevin leaned in and said, "Bam. I know what I want. A single scoop which really doesn t make sense, by the way f rocky road and one of pistachio. In a cone." I wrinkled my nose in disgust. "Your funeral." "Oh, like what you re getting is so much better?" "A single scoop illa almond." which doesn t have to make sense, by the way of cheesecake and van one o I did know what I wanted but I knew what he was doing by a

"You are so boring." I ignored him and stepped up to order for the both of us. "This is amazing," Kevin said as he took another lick of his ice cream. "This is so much better than everything we had at the restaurant, which I paid an arm an d a leg for." "And I paid a finger for this," I laughed. He chuckled too, and I smiled. It fel t so easy here, us walking aimlessly down the street, absent-mindedly eating our massive ice cream cones. This was what we d felt in the car at Taco Barn, just us hanging out. I felt like we d proved tonight that fancy restaurants and clubs wer en t our thing. "Why did you go to that restaurant tonight?" I asked. It had been on my mind all evening. "And the club? You don t strike me as that kind of guy." That observatio n had also been on my mind all evening. I d held back from making it because I tho ught I may have been wrong, that I couldn t simply assess him from one night in on e car eating one delicious fast food meal, but his obvious discomfort at both of the locations we d gone to tonight confirmed that my observance was right. He shrugged, somewhat uneasily. "It s complicated." "Can you tell me why?" I felt like I was pressing him but I felt safe there, at night with the ice cream. Kevin looked at me, then back at his ice cream. "Not really," he said carefully. "Okay then..." I let it go because obviously I wasn t going to get anywhere with h im tonight. I checked my watch and realized we d been out later than I intended. " I should head back." "Oh." He looked surprised. "I ll drive you."

I shook my head. "It s just a few streets over. I can walk." "Then I ll walk you," he said with a grin. I smiled back. "That works." "So I had fun tonight," he said as we began our walk back. "Thank you." God, were we going to do this thank you thing every time? "Thank you. I had fun, too. Well... now I am, anyway." "Me too," he replied. I couldn t be sure what part he was agreeing with. "Can we d o this again sometime?" "Sure," I agreed. I liked hanging out with Kevin. Except... "But we re not going t o do the whole fancy restaurants and clubs thing again, are we? Because we ve lear ned it s not us?" Was it weird to call us an us? We re not an us. We re not anything, we re just... well, I don t know. I don t know. There was a pause. "It s definitely not us." I was reassured that he wasn t weirded out by my use of the word. "But," he continued, "there will still be some of it anyway." "Why?" I pressed. "Tell me." "I want to but it s too weird to explain. And I don t know if it would scare you off ." "What? Spies?" I nudged him and he laughed a little. "Blackmail? Drug mules?" "Yes, that s exactly it. A drug mule spy is blackmailing me. I m so glad to get that off my chest." I laughed and we walked along in silence some more as I thought about what he sa id. I finally decided that it didn t really matter. I could take the boring stuff if it meant escaping my boring life because after the boring stuff came the fun stuff Taco Barn. Broc s Ice Cream Palace. Hanging out, just the two of us, doing the boring crap we ve shown we both like doing. "We can do it again sometime," I decided as we reached my street. "All of it," I added. "But especially this." "Especially this," he repeated with a relieved smile. He walked me to my buildin g and we came to a stop in front of it. I hoped he wasn t going to plant another awkward kiss on me. Hugs would be out of the question with our giant ice cream cones we were both still working on our firs t scoop as the second scoop lay melting beneath it. "High five?" I suggested, and we slapped our sticky hands together. "I ll call you," he said as I walked into the building. This time I believed him. "Are you dating Kevin?" Those were the first words Rachel uttered to me when I picked up the phone a few weeks later.

I had to think about it, but I finally decided we weren t. He only ever called me when he wanted to do something, which was every now and then. We never had long talks on the phone arguing who hung up first. We never kissed or held hands or a nything like that. We just were. "No." "Then he s dating you," she declared confidently. What did that even mean? I shut my book and rested my hands on the table. I was in the study lounge on my floor, but no one else was in there with me, so I felt free to talk on the phone. "What makes you say that?" "You have to get an issue of Star." I sighed and asked, "What are you doing reading gossip magazines?" "I m reading it because my baby sister happens to be in one " "What?" " and it s heavily implied that she s dating Kevin Jonas." "How is it... no, we re not dating. I think I d know if we were." I wished I could r ush out to the mini-mart across the street and get an issue of Star, but it was late, I was tired, and I was in my pajamas. Curiosity got the best of me and I f ound myself demanding, "What does it say?" "Let me set the scene for you. You ve got yourself a lovely page layout. There s a p icture of you and Kevin kissing outside his car on the night of the Freeze Out p remiere." "That was his crazy, out of the blue one-second kiss!" I protested. "Then there s a picture of you guys holding hands at what it calls the hottest rest aurant in uptown LA, " Rachel went on. "And what s that about? You didn t tell me you saw him again." "Because there s nothing to tell!" I groaned in frustration and rested my head on the table. "And we weren t holding hands, it was just... I don t know." "And then there s one of you two dancing together. You re dancing pretty close." "All of those pictures were taken out of context!" I cried out. "Why were you dancing? You don t dance." Rachel sounded as confused as I felt. "Ca n you explain any of it, then, if they were taken out of context? Why did he kis s you? Why were you holding hands? Why were you dancing?" she repeated. I shook my head. I had no idea. His actions had confused me a little as they hap pened but I had never sat down to think about the big picture, to wonder why, to think about all of them. "It s all Kevin." "So he wants to date you?" "No, he said we both agreed we were just friends. We are friends."

After a pause, Rachel asked hesitantly, "Karen, is he... using you?" I could have laughed if I weren t so confused. "What? No, we re not having sex or do ing anything physical." "That s not what I asked." Her voice was solemn. I couldn t understand why she was taking this so seriously. "What could he possibl y be using me for?" I demanded. "I don t know," she admitted. "But it is a little weird, don t you think?" I couldn t deny that. I definitely had some thinking to do. I told Rachel I d call h er back and I sat there in the study lounge in silence, my books forgotten. I thought about our first encounter. Our meeting was nothing strange, but then h e asked me to Taco Barn with him... why? I remembered the flash I d seen when we w ere outside and realized it must have been a photographer taking a picture of ou r kiss. Wait, the kiss... I d asked Kevin about the flash just seconds before the kiss. He brushed it off and then gave me that horrible kiss. He knew! He knew someone was taking our picture and he kissed me because of it! I tried to stop and think about it so I could figure out why but once I d realized what he d done my mind was working overdrive, trying to piece together all the ot her little things I couldn t quite figure out. The restaurant, probably an area where celebrities are commonly sighted, and how he d asked for a seat outside, almost like he wanted to be photographed. And when he put his hand near mine, not holding it but creating the illusion of holding it. The club, supposedly a new, popular one. He must have figured he d get his picture taken there, too. And his words came back to me, how the popular scenes were how did he put it? de finitely not us but there will be some of it anyway. Like he was obligated to be seen there, at those places, with me. I knew he didn t like them any more than I did. Did he just want attention from the paparazzi? Didn t he get enough? Why did it have to be with me? I still couldn t figure out why he d put sunglasses on when we went to Broc s if his w hole plan was to be spotted. Still, once I d figured out most of it I called Rachel right back to tell her. "He is using me. He wants to be seen. With me, for some reason." "What an asshole," Rachel muttered. I was insulted at what he d done and that he d d one it without my consent, and I felt deceived and betrayed and about a million other synonyms, but I couldn t bring myself to agree with her statement because... well, we had had fun afterwards. And he wasn t leading me on. At least, I didn t th ink so. I didn t feel led on. "Why would he do it?" "He wants people to think he has a girlfriend?" I guessed meekly. "Can t he just get a girlfriend? I know he has fans." The tone in her voice was ac idic. I felt loved.

"He said he didn t have time for one." "Bullshit. You know what I think? I think he s trying to sleep with you." I didn t know Kevin that well, but I knew him well enough. "That doesn t make any se nse." "Then you explain it." "I don t know!" I shouted in exasperation. "Is he trying to get people to like him or something by pretending to date you?" "Gee, thanks," I spat out sarcastically. "No," she said defensively, "it s just that when you find out a perfect celebrity is dating someone imperfect " "Again, thanks " " you tend to like them more. You know what I mean," she added. "Of course he shou ld be lucky to date you but you re not perfect, you re normal." "Oh, you mean I m average, then." "God, Karen, that s not what I meant." My phone beeped and I saw that Kevin was calling. "Speak of the devil," I muttered angrily. "He s calling?" "Yeah. I have to go." "Tell him fuck you for me." was about to say the same to you." I hung up o know it was a little much to say to her but at for lying to me and angry at Rachel for ruinin questions, and angry at myself for not seeing

"Funny," I said sarcastically, "I n her before she could respond. I that moment I was angry at Kevin g a good thing for asking so many any of it sooner.

"Hello?" I answered, all of my anger entering my voice. "Karen?" He sounded thrown off by my bitter tone. "Are you okay?" "Are you using me?" When I was met with silence, I demanded, "Tell the truth thi s time, huh? For a first." I heard a slow sigh. "Yes." I bit my lip and shook my head to myself. I wanted to own him with my ang er, to yell at him for deceiving me. And part of me was mad not at him, exactly, but at the situation that it was over. "But if you d just let me expl " I cut him off by saying something that surprised the both of us. "Do you want to make a deal?" Less than an hour later, Kevin and I sat on a bench outside Broc s Ice Cream Palac

e, each engrossed in our own ice cream cone. I was still in my pajamas, which I think shocked Kevin when I met him outside my dorm, but I thought nothing of it. Seeing a college student outside in their pajamas is a fairly common sight on a ny campus. "So you re not mad?" he asked. I had to think about it for a second. "Well, not really. More..." I took a conte mplative lick of my ice cream. "Let down, I guess? Because you should have told me." "I m sorry," he said for what seemed like the millionth time that evening. I was s till getting to know him but I got the impression that he truly was a nice guy. "I didn t know how it would go over. It would sound crazy to even explain." I gave him a sideways glance. "Try." He looked back with a skeptical expression. "Really?" When I nodded, he took a d eep breath (and another bite) and said: "I need to get out more." I nearly laughed. "What?" "That s what our publicist said. To Nick, he was all, Great job, keep up the rumors with the Disney girls, keep up the diabetes " "Okay, he did not say that." "Oh, he basically did," he said hastily. I raised my eyebrows and surrendered. I never knew Kevin could be so sensitive. And crazy. "And Joe, for some reason, i s seen as a fashion icon, " he scoffed, "and right now he s getting press about who h e s dating because he s breaking hearts left and right. And I... I don t do anything, I like to stay away from the public eye because I like to do boring crap like... " "Sitting on benches eating ice cream?" I finished sympathetically. "Yes," he emphatically agreed. "And so, now, I have to get out more. And I thoug ht getting a girlfriend would be the best way to do it." "But you don t have time for a girlfriend..." I was catching on. "...So I tried to enlist a fake one. Without her knowing about it. Sorry again," he added quickly. I nodded and licked my cone in silence. There were still some pieces of the puzz le that hadn t been filled in yet. Like did this have anything to do with the cove r of US Weekly I d seen the night we first met, the one speculating that he was (I can t help myself) GAY!? It was suspicious that he couldn t find a cute girl to han g on to his arm for a few events. I wasn t sure that I was buying his excuse of no t having time for a girlfriend. I ultimately decided that it would be too personal to bring up, though after all , we still didn t know each other very well. All we really had in common was a sha red penchant for junk food. "So what s this about a deal?" he asked. I shrugged. "I m interested." "You are?" His surprise was evident.

"Yeah, what s the harm? I could go with you to your stupid public events

sorry..."

"No," he sighed, "they really are stupid. That s why I avoid him. Hence why I need to get out more." "...and get a free meal out of it, plus it d give me something to get me out of my monotonous hellhole of a life. You could be seen with a girl and stir up some s peculation, thereby shutting up your publicist. It s a win-win situation!" I grinn ed and looked at him. I d thought about it after we d hung up the phone not an hour ago, and to me it seemed like a perfect plan. He mulled it over thoughtfully. "And you realize that we re not actually dating, t hough, right?" "Yes, Kevin," I said with a roll of my eyes. "You know what I also realize? When people pretend something, it doesn t make it true. Like in Titanic, Leonardo DiCa prio didn t actually die. He was pretending." "Ha," he said sarcastically. "I was just making sure. Seriously, though, thanks. And... you can t tell anybody." He looked at me to make sure I was listening care fully. "My brothers would think I was a loser for not being able to get a girlfr iend " "But you can," I interrupted in his defense, frowning a little. I didn t know whet her he really didn t have the time for it, or if he chose not to because he was in terested in guys, but either way he was certainly capable of getting a girlfrien d. He just... didn t seem to want one. That was the strange part. "I know, but if I tell them you re just someone I got to pretend to be my girlfrie nd, they ll think I really can t. Understand?" No. "Yes." "And if anyone else heard about it, I don t even want to think about it. So," he s aid slowly, "it s important that nobody can find out. Alright? Nobody." It sounded so menacing now. "I have to lie to my sister?" I asked uncertainly. " She already kind of knows. She s the one who helped me figure it out." Kevin sighed. "I I guess you can tell her if she s already in on it. But I mean it, Karen." I nodded. "Okay," I agreed. "I won t tell anyone." "Thank you," he said sincerely, looking straight at me. I smiled back and we returned to our melting ice cream cones. There was a moment before he said, "But you realize that the ship really did sin k in real life, though, right?" I jabbed him in the side with my elbow. And with that the deal was finalized. Th ere was nothing official no paperwork, no signatures, not even a handshake. But maybe there should have been. I think less people would have ended up getting hurt if there had. But more on t hat later.

"So you re his beard," Rachel sighed when I d gotten back to my dorm and, after apol ogizing for my last conversation with her, had told her what transpired between Kevin and me. "What?" I turned off the TV, thinking I hadn t heard her right. And I was sad to d o that. I only ever really watch TV when Molly s not around because I d feel lame wa tching old reruns of Family Matters or Recess in her presence. "His beard," she said again. "You know. The girl who pretends to date a guy lly because he s gay." usua

"He s not gay," I defended instinctively. I couldn t say so for sure because I obvio usly had my suspicious, but it didn t feel right to talk about this with her. She already knew about our deal and that was bad enough. I didn t want her intruding o n anything else. "If you say so." I sat on my bed and leaned against the wall, picking absent-mindedly at a loose stitch on one of my pillows. "So you don t think it s weird." "Nah. There s a lot of weird shit that goes on in celebrities personal lives that w e don t see," she told me self-assuredly. "Everyone s obsessed with their image. It s normal." How does she know all this? "Not everyone," I mumbled into the phone. "Right," she laughed. "Except for you, of course, who traipses around in track p ants and a pony tail ninety-nine percent of the time." I could tell she was maki ng fun of me for it, and it was all true so I couldn t deny it; I honestly had no desire to improve the way I looked. It took far too much effort. I also made no move to tell her I d been in pajamas for my ice cream run with Kevin there was no need to make her righter (more right?) than she already was. "So?" was my intelligent comeback. "So that s going to have to change. You re the girlfriend of a celebrity now. You ve g ot to start looking like it or no one s going to believe it." Drat. Things with Lucas were progressing. We had met a few times in the elevator after I learned his name but we d only made small-talk about our days, where we d come from, what we d done. I was relieved tha t he was finally getting to see me in my usual loose jeans and ponytail so he co uld see I was normal. I just happened to be pretending to date a famous person. All very normal, I m sure. I found myself making more excuses to use the elevator even if it was just to go d own one floor to do my laundry. Using the elevator excited me now. So far nothing really substantial had happened but they certainly were moving al ong. My most recent encounter with Lucas found the both of us in the elevator, m e returning from class and him coming from lunch. "Hey," he greeted me when he stepped into the elevator (I d spotted him at the doo r and held it open for him). I returned the greeting and we shared warm smiles.

I liked that our meets had become more casual. After talking about where we had just come from and asking after each other, the elevator reached my floor all too quickly. "I m glad I ran into you," I told him as I stepped off the elevator and turned aro und to look at him from the hallway. "Me too," he said. There was a brief one-second pause before he suggested, "We s hould hang out sometime." I tried to keep calm but I couldn t stop the wide smile that took over my face. "Y es!" was all I could get out before the elevator doors closed. Since I was out o f his sight, I jumped giddily up and down to myself in a victory dance of sorts. Now that we were making tentative plans for life outside of the elevator, Lucas and I were that much closer to a date. As I finished with my dorky dance of giddiness and was walking to my room, I tho ught of Kevin. I wasn t sure how Kevin would factor in with my Lucas situation or how Lucas would f actor in with my Kevin situation but I decided to just take it one day at a time. Nothing had happened yet. Not yet, anyway. "Hello?" "You called?" I asked. I had been in the library studying for four hours straigh t, from one until five, and as I walked off campus I was tired and hungry and ha d very little patience for small-talk. Upon leaving the library my phone told me Kevin called twice. "About time you answered!" "Don t even." I sighed and leaned my head against the crosswalk pole, pressing the button repeatedly. "I was kidding. Sorry," he added, I suppose realizing I was already in a bad moo d. I had to smile at that as I crossed the street. "You are way too polite. I think you apologize too much." "Sorry," he said again. I laughed for the first time all day which, I realize, is pathetic. Actually, even more pathetic, Kevin was the first person I had talked to all day. I had woken up and gotten ready for class while Molly was still sleeping; I then went to cla ss and took notes, and from there it was the library, with only a piece of fruit or sandwich in between. "What do you have planned for tonight?" he asked. "A hot night of writing a paper while watching TV. Why, do you have something th at can top that?" "How does dinner with my family sound?" I nearly stopped, right there in the sidewalk. "What? Why?" "When I get a girlfriend, I introduce them to my family before they hear about i

t from some other source. You are, as far as they know, my girlfriend, so..." I nodded thoughtfully. "So they want to meet me tonight?" "And I told them you d come." It was no use fighting it and, besides, I was pretty hungry. I had to admit that I was intrigued at the prospect of meeting his family. Then I could say I d met a ll the Jonas Brothers, and the Jonas Parents (I wondered if Mr. and Mrs. Jonas w ere in a band called the Jonas Parents for middle-aged Boom Generation parents. I wouldn t put it past them). "When should I be there?" "Um... if you left now, that d be great." "Now?" I echoed. "Or maybe five minutes ago." "But I have to change," I protested. "What are you wearing?" "Oh, Kevin, I didn t know you were like that," I teased. Getting a sarcastic laugh from him, I looked down and told him, "I don t know, jeans and a green shirt. Why , what are you wearing?" "I refuse to have phone sex with you." "Ha." He laughed and said, "Jeans and a red shirt. It doesn t matter, you re fine. I m leavi ng to get you right now." And he hung up before I could respond, leaving my mind racing with questions and uncertainties. It wouldn t be the first time I d gone thr ough the awkward evening of meeting a boyfriend s family but the circumstances wer e a little different this time. What if they could tell I didn t pine after him? H ow can you fake something like that? "We ve been dating for two months" was the first thing Kevin said to me when I ope ned the door to his car. "It was casual at first," he added as I settled in the front seat and shut the door. "We met on New Year s Eve and things took off from t here, a few dates here and there. But now we re getting more serious." "Are we?" I replied in disinterest, though a little amused at the lengths he d tak en to make our relationship seem real. He ignored me and added, "Oh, and my birthday s November 5th." I didn t get it. "It s... the end of February." "A good girlfriend should know her boyfriend s birthday," he told me, glancing at me with a grin. "Will there be a pop quiz?" When he didn t respond, I said, "Bad joke. I m full of t hose. January 15th." "Noted." I watched him for a while as he drove. "Why are you so nervous?"

He sighed. "I don t know. I m weird." I laughed. "Yeah, you are." He turned to me and smiled. "Yeah, but so are you, so it all works out." I was reassured but my nerves hadn t been completely quelled. I looked out the win dow for a while before asking, "What s your family like?" I think he was surprised by the question. "Do you know anything about my family? " I thought for a moment. "Well," I began, "you have... two brothers?" "You re forgetting the one who wanted me to check the closet for monsters." "Three brothers," I corrected myself. "And... you re close?" He shrugged. "Pretty close, yeah." "And you re somewhat musical," I concluded. "That s all I ve got." Kevin didn t speak for a while. "Frankie s the youngest. He s eight. Don t worry about h im, you ll fall in love with him once you meet him. Everyone does. And then there s Nick, who s sixteen. He s got a fro... and he s not stuck-up, he s just quiet." I smiled softly, watching him talk. It was nice to hear someone talk about their family i n a loving manner. It made me miss my own. "And then there s Joe," he continued. " He s nineteen, like you, and, uh... he s pretty silly. He jokes around a lot, comes off as a douche, but he s not." I nodded, taking it all in. "Parents?" "They re cool," he said with a noncommital shrug. "They re gonna insist you call the m by their first names, but don t." "Tricky tricksters." There was silence in the car for a while, save for what was playing softly on the radio in the background. "So your family s actually a real family?" He seemed surprised. "What do you mean?" "I mean... you all love each other, you do stuff together as a family, you re not just... pretending?" It sounded like a dumb question once I d said it aloud but I think Kevin understood what I meant. "No, we re legit." After I laughed, he asked, "What about your family?" "We re legit too," I told him. "Not perfect, but legit. It just doesn t feel like it sometimes." "Why?" I shrugged, tracing my hand over the armrest. "I m away, my sister s away, my parent s are still in San Francisco. Sometimes I miss the entire family experience." He gave a quiet laugh. "Well, you won t be missing it for long. Tonight is all the family experience you ll need." He was right.

Standing in front of the door, Kevin paused before taking his key out of his poc ket. "Are you ready?" he asked me. "Somewhat," I replied tensely. Sensing my anxiety, Kevin reached for my hand as he used his other to unlock the door. I wasn t sure if it was to keep up the illus ion that we were dating or to reassure me, but I appreciated it either way. "We re here!" he called out as we stepped inside. "Come in!" I heard a voice yell from another room. "That s my mom," he murmured. The explanation wasn t necessary, though, because a fe w seconds later a woman with Kevin s curly hair (well, it s really the other way aro und, isn t it?) entered the room, wiping her hands on her black jeans and smiling widely at the both of us. "Kevin, you re back already!" She stood in front of me. "And you must be Karen," s he said, holding out her hand. "It s wet, I was just doing the dishes," she added with a smile. I smiled and shook her hand. "It s okay. Hi, it s nice to meet you, Mrs. Jonas." "Oh," she said with a nonchalant wave of her arm, "call me Denise." "Oh, I... couldn t." On the car ride there I d planned a charming response, like "I respect you too much for that, Mrs. Jonas." And then I d wink at her and she d swoon . Because apparently I m trying to seduce my fake boyfriend s mother. She smiled and I could almost see her mentally give me a prop or two. "Kevin s tol d me a lot about you," she added. I kind of doubted that. And if he did it was to keep up the image of him being a devoted boyfriend, not because he actually cared enough about me to blather inc essantly about me to anyone who would listen. "Thanks," I replied. Thanks? Who was I thanking? Kevin, for keeping up appearanc es, or Mrs. Jonas for simply stating a fact? "He s told me a lot about you, too," I blurted. "I m glad to finally meet you." Not my best work, but it ll do. She nodded and patted my shoulder. "Me too." After we had a moment of exchanging polite smiles, she turned to Kevin and said, "Dinner will be ready in a few min utes." "We can help," Kevin offered. God, the manners he has. You d think he was the one trying to impress his mother. Hmm, maybe he s not really (forgive me) GAY!? Maybe he just has creepy mother issues. "Nonsense!" Kevin and I both stifled snorts at the mention of our new favorite word. "She s a guest here," she continued. Show her around the house. Take her to meet t he other boys." With that, Mrs. Jonas headed into the kitchen, muttering somethi ng about the oven. "They re probably in the rec room," Kevin told me. "Come on." I followed him as he led me through the kitchen, which was full of magical smells, and past another room before stopping at a room where I heard the sound of laughter.

"You made a bad choice, picking that gun." "Yeah, a bad choice for you." "Nuh-uh." "Hey guys," Kevin said, opening the door and stepping into the room. The two Jon as brothers looked up at us and then paused the game. I saw the youngest one (wh o was already my favorite, solely on the basis of birth order) sitting on a couc h playing with a Nintendo DS. "This is Karen." Kevin looked at me and saw I was still standing outside the room. "Get over here." I smiled nervously and walked inside the room. "Hi," I said with a pathetic wave . "I m Karen." "Hi," said the youngest, glancing up at me. I knew I liked him. "I m Frankie." We shared a small smile and then he returned to his DS. "I m Nick," said the curly-headed one, leaning over the couch he was sitting on to shake my hand. "Hey," I replied, shaking it. Not horrible. As far as handshakes go, it was okay . I approve. "Joe," said the straight-haired one I d assumed to be Kevin before this whole thin g started. He also offered his hand but was too engrossed in watching the game ( Nick had unpaused it the second Joe turned around) to properly shake it, so it j ust hung there like a limp fish. Kevin took a seat on a stool behind the couch and I joined him, sitting next to him in a chair. With nothing better to do, we sat and watched Nick and Joe play, with the occasional outburst from Frankie, who was just as engrossed in his own game. "I m awesome at this game," Joe declared after he d shot Nick s guy to smithereens... or blew him up, or... I don t know. There s only so much violence that can exist and yet this game has all of it. "You are," I agreed with a small laugh, watching as Nick sighed in frustration. "I know," Joe replied cockily. "That s why I said it." Nick, Frankie, and Kevin groaned in laughter. I wasn t sure how to react to that. I gave Kevin a sideways glance. "You re sure he s not really a douche?" I murmured. "It s a stupid thing Joe started doing," Kevin explained. "He s always looking for opportunities to say it. You walked right into that one," Nick explained without taking his eyes off the screen. "You re going down..." "Yes!" Frankie shouted, tapping something on the screen of his DS. "Joe, you shot me!" "I know," came Joe s reply. "That s why I did it."

"What s why you did it?" Nick challenged, angrily tossing the controller aside in defeat. "What do you mean?" "I said you shot me, and you said..." Nick did an impersonation of Joe. " I know. That s why I did it. It doesn t even make sense. What s why you did it?" A point to Nick for owning Joe. What now, Joe? You have zero points to your name . Joe shrugged. "Life," he answered simply. Before Nick could challenge him on that, too, Mrs. Jonas called out that dinner was ready and Joe was the first to leave the room. The rest of us followed our noses to the kitchen and, after ensuing confusion re garding whose turn it was to set the table, we sat down to eat. I was elated, not only because of the food, as it had been a while since my last home-cooked meal, but because I couldn t remember the last time I had sat around a dinner table and eaten with a family. I forgot how endearing and, at the same ti me, annoying it could be. While Kevin and I sat next to each other and kept to our selves, focusing on eating and occasionally leaning over to say a few words to o ne another, Mrs. Jonas fussed over what Nick was and wasn t eating. Mr. Jonas was too busy reprimanding Joe for taking food off of Frankie s plate to notice that Fr ankie didn t care what was on his plate because he was occupying himself with the DS he was playing in his lap. It wasn t until we were clearing the table that Mrs. Jonas remembered they had a g uest. "Karen, I m so sorry! We just about ignored you!" I stacked my empty plate on top of Kevin s and let him take them to the sink. "No, it s okay. I liked just being part of the regular dinner experience. It was nice, so thank you." She smiled at that and told me to stop cleaning up, ordering Kevin to remove me from the kitchen. "So?" I asked when Kevin had given me the grand tour of his room. "So?" he replied, sitting next to me on his bed. "Did I pass?" "I wasn t aware there was a Kevin Jonas girlfriend test." "There is. Now tell me." After a long, nerve-wracking silence, Kevin turned to me and grinned. "You passe d." While I raised my arms in victory, Kevin continued, "You didn t call her Denis e, you helped clear the table, you complimented her on her cooking, you didn t ask anyone for their autograph, and you didn t try to grope me at the dinner table." "Yeah, that was hard to resist," I said sarcastically. Ignoring me, he went on, "She loved you. Nice work." He held up his hand and gav e a high-five to congratulate me.

We did nothing much of importance after that we played a few old board games I fou nd in his closet and we listened to music in a shameless act of self-promotion, he gave me the latest Jonas Brothers CD when he heard I hadn t heard any of their mu sic. Then when it started getting late we decided I had better get going. As I put on my jacket, Mrs. Jonas ventured over. "Thank you for coming to dinner . You re welcome any time." It was nice to hear. "Thank you for having me," I replied. "And thanks for dinne r. It was delicious." She looked around the room and spotted Joe, sitting on the living room couch, si fting through a magazine. "Joe, do you want to say good-bye to Karen?" Without looking up, Joe gave me a non-committal wave. "Nice having you here," he said boredly, turning a page. "I know," I instantly responded, using the same cocky tone he had used earlier, "that s why I came." As Kevin and Mrs. Jonas laughed at Joe having his own words used against him, Jo e gave me a smirk that I was quick to return. "You are the best fake girlfriend I ve ever had," Kevin declared as he drove me to my dorm. I raised an eyebrow. "How many have you had?" "Including you?" "Yes." "One." I laughed. Even though Kevin was nothing more than a friend to me, I liked knowi ng that I was his first fake girlfriend. I d feel unimportant if I came after a lo ng string of them. "You re not a bad fake boyfriend," I replied. "Tonight was really fun." "Yeah? I thought so, too. I think my mom loves you even more for what you said t o Joe. She hates when he says it." "I know, that s why I did it," I retorted before I even knew what I was saying. My eyes widened and I gasped at what I had just done. "You just Joe d," Kevin said incredulously. "Reflex. It won t happen again," I promised. "Yeah, it better not." We rode along in silence and I even started to get sleepy before I remembered so mething. I groaned and said, "Oh, crap." "What?" He quickly turned to look at me. "I have a paper due Monday," I sighed. "I meant to work on it tonight."

He made a sympathetic noise. "Well, you have tomorrow." "Yeah, but tomorrow s not tonight." I slid down in my seat and covered my eyes wit h my hands, rubbing them as if that could erase the sleepiness I already felt. " I ve got to get better at balancing this," I said, more to myself than to Kevin. "You mean, balancing me and school?" I nodded. "God, could you imagine if I had a real boyfriend? If I barely even ha ve time for you..." I trailed off. It was then that I thought about Lucas. What if Lucas became my "real" boyfriend? How would I even possibly balance a fake bo yfriend, a real boyfriend, and school? Or would I have to break up with one of m y boyfriends? I stopped my thoughts from getting too far ahead because at the moment Lucas had nothing to do with being my boyfriend. I realized it was silly to even consider , so I dropped it and decided that, should Lucas and I date by some miracle, I d f igure it out when the time came but chances were the time would never come. I couldn t say if I was relieved or disappointed to consider that last thought. Where are you headed? was the question Lucas asked me when the gods smiled upon us and placed us, alone, in the elevator together. Campus, I told him. It s for a study group thing.

He cocked his head to the side and squinted in confusion. You still have midterms ? We re studying for the next round, I informed him. When midterm results for one of m y classes came out, several panicked students sent out a flurry of e-mails askin g who wanted to form a study group, I suppose to try to offset getting another u nsatisfactory grade. I was, unfortunately, one of those panicked students with a n unsatisfactory grade. Pre-emptive studying, he said with an approving nod. I like it.

I politely laughed as the elevator reached the ground floor. Where are you going? I asked, nodding to the notebook and pen he held in one hand. Campus. It s for a club meeting. They make me take notes. It dawned on me that this was the first time we d ever been going to the same plac e at the same time. It would mean we d have a conversation outside the elevator. I was both excited and terrified. What club? I asked casually.

It s for English majors, he said, opening the door for me. We stepped out into the c ool night air and began walking to campus together. I couldn t bond with him on th e whole English major thing, unfortunately, being an intended political science major myself, but it was nice to learn something else about him. What do you want to do with your life? I asked. It sounded weird out loud a little d ramatic, maybe but what I meant was, What are you going to do with your major? Lucas shrugged. I don t know. English has just kind of always been my thing. I read way too much for my own good. And I tend to quote authors a lot. People get ann oyed. I laughed. You can annoy me any time you want.

He smiled at me and I smiled back. Leaning against the crosswalk pole, he presse d the button and asked me, What s your major? Political science, I answered with a shrug.

You want to be a lawyer? We ignored the red hand on the crosswalk screen and cross ed the street together there were no cars coming for a while. Something like that. Now I wasn t so sure not about the lawyer thing; I d always known a bout that but I wasn t sure if I could actually get through school, or this semester , even. This one semester was grueling enough as it was. There was more silence while we walked. I think we were both trying to think of what to say next, something that could erase some of the awkwardness and bring u s closer together. Where are you from? he asked at last.

Just outside of San Francisco. You? San Diego. So you re sort of close to home? He didn t answer right away. Geographically speaking, I guess so, he said after a wh ile. But, I mean... it could be twenty minutes away from here and they d still be w orlds apart. That sounds deep enough to be a quote. Should I be annoyed? Laughing, he said, Sorry, that was a Lucas Sawyer original.

Do you mind if I annoy you with it? I would be honored. My laughter died down when I saw we were about to walk past the library where th e study group was being held. Oh, I m here... Drat that study group for deciding to have on the side of campus so close to the dorms. Lucas looked disappointed, too. Oh.

I gave him a reluctant smile. I m glad we got to talk more. Yeah, me too... I didn t want to turn back. Do you want... he started.

I had to force myself to not smile prematurely, because for all I knew the next words coming out of his mouth could be Do you want to throw this away for me? ...to go out for coffee sometime? he asked, looking straight at me. Under the ligh t of a street lamp I could barely make out the intense stare from his blue eyes. Or dinner, maybe? Okay, smile, the moment is yours. As a smile slowly overtook my face, I said, I d l ove to.

There was an exchange of phone numbers, during which I had to keep from doing my happy dance, and then we parted ways. When I arrived at the study session, brig ht-eyed with an incredibly large smile on my face, all I could do was keep reach ing down into my pocket to feel the yellow piece of paper with his number on it to see if it was still there.

I was beginning to love my dates with Kevin. They usually went the same: he d pick m e up and we d go to some high-profile place on the other side of LA, show our face s, and then he d drive me back. I d have run out of stylish clothes a long time ago if not for the fact that I lived on a floor with fourteen other girls and there wa s always Rose, Rachel s roommate, who was willing to let me borrow something every now and then. Showing up in those public places wasn t the fun part, though; I more enjoyed the moments spent on the drive back to my dorm. Sometimes if we had time we would st op somewhere and get something to eat. Donuts? Kevin asked, gesturing to a store he d just driven by.

I shook my head and checked my watch. In about... ten minutes, the old Chinese ma n in King Donuts starts making donuts. Dare we get fresh ones? Dare we shall. Nice syntax. Thanks. Oh, he said suddenly, I have something to show you!

It s not in your pants, is it? Kevin rolled his eyes at me and ignored my comment. e donut place. It s awesome. I ll show you when we get to th

God, we re so fat, I laughed. Sitting in my seat, I poked my belly. I love that we love food. It s what our relationship is built upon. Yeah, who needs mutual respect... Or trust... he chimed in, chuckling.

When you ve got food? I finished. So where is it? neighborhood. Kevin asked. I looked out the window and saw he was approaching my drive until you see... bam. Stop. And there, I said a lit window just in front of where we were makes the donuts with tender loving care. You ll we?

Turn here, I instructed him. And , pointing to a man frying dough in parked, is the old Chinese man who smell it once we re outside. Shall

Wait. Kevin reached for the glove compartment and pulled out several pieces of pap er. Are you ready? When I shrugged, not sure what he was asking, he began placing them in my lap, one by one, providing descriptions of each. In Star, reports that Kevin Jonas has a girlfriend. In Us Weekly, photos of Kevin Jonas and his new g irlfriend hanging out at a local club. In Celeb Scoop, evidence that things are heating up Kevin Jonas and this mysterious girl he s been seen with lately.

While I took in all that he had shown me, Kevin sat there grinning like a lunati c. Wow, it s actually working, ood job! I said incredulously, looking from the pictures to him. G I have yet to show this to my pub

I should say the same to you! he happily replied. licist. Nick and Joe are gonna be so jealous.

You mean they like all this attention and speculation? Hell yes! Everybody likes attention, no matter how much they deny it. And in this case no one s prying or crossing any of my boundaries because I m the one who set t his all up! They re playing right into my hands. I almost expected him to cackle ev illy, but he didn t.

I m glad it s working, I told him genuinely. I mean, it wasn t long ago the night I met yo , actually that Us Weekly was reporting that you were gay. I studied him carefully, looking for a reaction, trying to tell if I had touched upon a sensitive topic. He only laughed. I know, right? That s part of the reason why I m doing this.

What s part of the reason? I was quick to question. That they think you re gay... or th at you re... gay? I couldn t believe my audacity but it had been on my mind since we d met and I figured that now, with the delicious sugary smells coming from the don ut store, was a good time to ask it. Kevin almost laughed, then gave me a double take. You re serious? You re actually ask ing if I m gay? Yes. He looked surprised. No! What made you think that? You get a fake girlfriend...

Be because... I stammered.

Because of my publicist and because I wanted some publicity for a change, I told you that. There was an edge to his voice. ...but you could get any girl But I don t want just any girl! Then... I stopped myself, taking a moment to think. You don t want... me... do you? No.... You don t want me... do you?

Narrowing his eyes a little, Kevin said slowly, I shook my head. No.

He breathed a sigh of relief. Okay. So that s settled. Neither of us wants the othe r. Not everything s settled. There s still the pressing matter of With an irritated tone to his voice, Kevin cut in, Is it really pressing?

Shrugging, I said, As your fake girlfriend I think I have a right to know. I ve bee n wondering all this time.

After a moment, Kevin said quietly, Sometimes... sometimes there s stuff people don t want to talk about and you just have to wonder for a while longer. I thought about his words while he collected the tabloid papers from my lap. ttle bit longer and you ll be fine? I saw a small smile grace him. Yeah. I liked it. That s good. Yes please. With that, we bounded out of the car and made a beeline for King Donuts but I co uldn t stop my mind from racing. Now that I knew he wasn t gay, the issue must be ev en more complicated and I was faced with a whole new set of questions that troub led my mind, but that night Kevin taught me a little about grace. And so I didn t press the matter any further. We didn t talk about the conversation we d had that night in the car for a while, so until then I had to wait and continue to wonder. We sat for a bit in the car before the smell got to us. So, donuts? You listened to the record. A li

C, D, D, F. The last of my midterm grades had come out by Friday of the next week, and they were a C, two D s, and an F. I stared at them dumbly, and by that evening as I was getting ready for my date with Lucas (!), I couldn t get my horrible grades off m y mind. Molly didn t notice my disposition and I wasn t about to tell her why I was moody, b ecause she was perfect. Even though she seemed to spend more time socializing th an studying, she was still perfect. That s one of the things you learn in college it s not like high school. In high school there were the smart people who were socia lly awkward but always did well in school, and then there were the popular kids, who ranged from doing well (but not as well as the aforementioned group) to doi ng horribly. And then I come here and find out that the guy who drinks and does pot on the weekend sets the curve. When Kevin called, I told him. He sympathized but there was no way he could poss ibly empathize with me. He had an entirely different life. He seemed to think th at it would be okay, that they were just a few letters on a piece of paper. Midterm grades aren t that important, are they? kepticism. he asked softly with undertones of s

And just as seriously, I replied back, Yes, they are. We hung up a little after that, after he got me to agree to go to a family funct ion with him on Sunday. Of course I couldn t tell Rachel; she already thought I was in way over her head a nd this would just vindicate her. I sighed to myself and, while looking in the mirror to line my eyes with black e yeliner, I vowed that I wouldn t let this bring me down. Not tonight, anyway, with Lucas.

We d agreed to meet outside the building but it was only fitting that we should ru n into each other in the elevator on the way down. Of course, he laughed when the doors opened. I smiled when I saw him. He looked ni ce he wore a dark blue shirt over a white long-sleeved shirt and a pair of dark je ans. In my own dark jeans and red shirt, I felt like we were dressed compatibly. Pretty patriotic, if I do say so myself. Go America. How are you? I asked, stepping inside. How are you? Our eyes met and soon I forgot all about m

I m good. He smiled and asked,

I gave a small smile and replied, Good. y crappy grades.

We went to see a movie a group on campus screens movies once a month for three dol lars a person. I tried to focus on the movie, but honestly the only thing I coul d think about was that our hands were touching because we both shared an armrest . Every so often, Lucas would lean over and whisper something that made me laugh . It was really nice. I had completely forgotten that whole heart-racing thing t hat happens when you re on a date. Afterwards we got coffee and walked aimlessly around campus, talking about our l ives. I d just told him about Rachel and asked if he had any siblings. Well, I m an only child, he said after a pause. But technically I have a brother. Technically? He shrugged, putting one hand in his pocket and taking a sip from his coffee wit h his other. I grew up just my mom and me because my dad was never around. And my dad had a kid with the woman he s now married to. Wow. I stepped onto a bench and walked across it, holding my arms out for balance. Do you know him at all? Lucas shrugged again and watched me jump down off the bench. A little. We went to the same high school but we were in different social groups, you could say. How old is he? He kicked a pebble. Really? A few months younger than me.

I asked, surprised. I kicked the same pebble when we reached it.

Yeah, he said, giving a dry laugh. My dad left my mom a little after she got pregna nt. And then he went and impregnated someone else. That sucks, I said quietly. We d walked to the pebble again; he kicked it and watche d it skitter off into the darkness. Yeah, he agreed. And my mom got pregnant so young that she never had a chance to do what she wanted, like go to college. So I m working my ass off because she never got to. I smiled a little and took a sip from my own coffee. How are you doing in school? Having heard his life story, I wanted him to say he was doing spectacularly, but I couldn t erase that part of me that wanted him to be doing horribly just so I c ould have someone to talk to.

I m doing alright. We d come to a shortcut students use to get from one building to an other. It involves treading down a small steep incline and jumping over a small creek before walking up the opposite side. Sometimes when I did it I was scared I would fall into the water, but I never did. Even tonight, when it was dark and the only way to tell the water was there was by the sound it made as it flowed steadily, I still wasn t scared. What about you? Lucas asked. He was quick to jump across the water. He waited for me, holding out a hand to help me. I grabbed his hand and jumped across. I m doing... pretty bad, I admitted at last. taking more units than I should because I had mono last semester and couldn t get anything done, but now I think I m in way over my head. It was easier to talk someh ow, when we were walking at night. He hadn t yet let go of my hand and I wasn t complaining. it? he asked. What are you gonna do about I m

I have no idea, I confessed. And I studied so hard for all these midterms and did b adly, which I think is worse than not studying at all because... As we walked I s earched for the words to help me get out what I was trying to say. I think it pro ves that I m... inadequate? I don t even want to keep going through with this semest er because I can t trust that my grades are going to improve. There was a long, silence-filled pause as we walked along, hand in hand, past th e dim lights that just barely illuminated our path but nothing else. Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that cou nts. What? I asked, turning to him. Winston Churchill once wrote that, Lucas explained, glancing at me and then lookin g straight ahead again. It doesn t matter if you fuck up a semester and it doesn t ma tter if you get straight A s. All you can do is keep going. You know, like... if y ou get good grades one semester, good, but keep that up for the rest of them and prove that you re unbeatable. And if your grades are bad, then work twice as hard next semester to prove that you can do better. I considered what he had said. But what if I m already working twice as hard?

Then work four times as hard, he said, making me laugh. It s just a rough semester, he assured me. That s all. You are taking way too many units, but you re already in it now. So you might as well finish with your head up high. I never knew you were so poignant, nd inspired me. I said at last. Somehow he had both reassured a

I told you I read way too much, Lucas told me with a laugh. And... if you re ever stu dying so much your brain explodes, I want you to call me. I ll call you, I agreed, smiling. We should head back.

Good, he said quietly. And then:

I nodded, not wanting the night to end but at the same time knowing it had to at some point. Yeah. As we turned around, I said, Tonight was fun. Yeah, he replied. Call me... or I ll call you... and we ll do it again. Soon.

I didn t care that I was grinning crazily because it was night. Okay, he said, and together we walked back to our dorms.

Okay.

So you really walk around with all these quotes just floating around in your head ? I told you, I m weird. "They think I m fat." Without giving Kevin a proper greeting I sat in his car and shut the door. Into his lap I dropped some pages I d printed off of a few internet gossip columns with pictures of us. Kevin looked at the papers, studying them and reading the speculative picture ca ptions. "Cool, we made it on a Yahoo! countdown list." "Word." I began rooting around in my purse while Kevin continued to sit and read , engrossed by the articles. "They think I m fat!" he cried out. "Cheese danish?" Without waiting for a response, I threw the napkin-wrapped past ry at Kevin when I found it in my purse. I placed my own raspberry danish into m y mouth while I occupied my arms with putting my seatbelt on. "Where d this come from?" he asked, a little confused, and let the danish rest pre cariously on the dashboard. "Smuggled it out of the cafeteria." It s not stealing. It s buffet-style, so you can take as much as you want... and I usually bring a large purse with me to take s ome home. I have to be sneaky, though, because as in any buffet-style eatery, ta king food with you is frowned upon. But this time I d just taken something for Kev in and I to snack on while we went to his family function thing (okay, I still d idn t know what it was). "I can t believe they think I m fat," he grumbled, still poring over the pieces of p aper. "What? Where does it say that?" I took the page from him and saw where he indign antly pointed to something. "Kevin, I didn t even mean to print that out. It s a com ment some loser posted in response to the article. This comment has nothing to d o with anything." "I guess I should join a gym," he sighed. "Oh my God. How can you care that much about what one person says?" I asked. "Sh ouldn t that have worn off a long time ago? People say things about you all the ti me!" "It s human nature. I m always gonna be a little self-conscious about some things," he replied. "Like whatever it is you won t tell me about the real reason why you feel like you need a fake girlfriend?" I asked hopefully. When I was met with a sigh, I added , "Kidding. You don t have to tell me." "Thank you." "Until you re ready. Then you have to tell me."

Kevin rolled his eyes. "What should I do about them thinking I m fat?" "Nothing! You know, they think I m fat too it s actually in the article, not a little comment." "So what are you gonna do about it?" he asked, turning to face me. I raised an eyebrow and took a large bite out of my raspberry danish. "Delicious ," I said, my mouth full. "That s your solution." "Yes. I m eating my sorrows away." I actually didn t have any "sorrows;" I was just amused at how much he cared. He wasn t at all fat and yet he was obsessing over on e little comment while I, who deserved to be called fat more than he did, happil y munched away on a calorie-laden pastry. I think that s one of the differences be tween us. Kevin is always shocked when I do things that are just a little strang e like the time we went for ice cream and he saw I was in my pajamas. "Well, I m going to join a gym," Kevin declared, starting the car. "Mm-hmm." "What, you don t think I will?" "I think you re going to say you ll join a gym and then you ll forget and then you ll se e someone at the gym and you ll remember your broken promise to yourself and then you ll eat something in shame." I watched him closely while he began driving down the street and continued, "So you might as well cut all that middle stuff out an d start your shame-eating right now." "Oh, what do you know." "I know it doesn t matter what people think." "Sometimes it does." I rolled my eyes. "Okay. New subject. You know Lucas?" "Your elevator guy, yeah." "We went on a date two nights ago!" I gleefully told him. "We watched a movie an d walked and held hands and talked and held hands and drank coffee and looked so ulfully into each other s eyes. We had mind intercourse. It was beautiful." "Oh." I considered his oh. His oh had undertones of disappointment, maybe a little disappr oval, but no glee whatsoever. "Not exactly the reaction I was looking for..." "Well, no... I mean, it s great, and I m happy for you... but I just don t know what t his means for... us." "Huh?" "I mean..." Kevin shrugged. "They re just starting to notice us. What if they noti ce that you and Lucas are dating? That might put a damper on our whole dating thin g, don t you think?" I furrowed my brow. I didn t remind Kevin that technically Lucas and I weren t exact

ly dating, as we had only been on one date, but in my mind Lucas and I were prac tically engaged, so I sacrificed that point of argument for my own delusions. "K evin, that s ridiculous. They don t follow me. They don t even know where I go or what I do..." "Yet," he said pointedly. "But they will. And soon. I know they will." He took h is eyes off the road to look at me. "I m sorry, Karen, but we did make a deal." "Seriously, you re forbidding me from dating Lucas?" "I didn t mean it like that..." "That wasn t part of the deal!" My voice rose and got more high-pitched the more I talked. "You never said I couldn t have a boyfriend." He scratched his hair uncomfortably. "I never said you could," he clarified quie tly. "Oh, so I have to follow your orders now?" "That s not what I " "Am I even allowed to eat this Danish, master?" "Karen " "Here, take it," I said, throwing the rest of the Danish at him. "If you disappr ove." "Please don t throw delicious things at me." "What if I want to break up?" I asked. "What if, between you and Lucas, I choose Lucas?" Kevin looked at me sharply before remembering he was driving and returning his e yes to the road. "What... why would you do that? You barely know him." "I met him the night I met you." "That s not what I said," he said quietly. I shrugged. "Why does it bother you so much?" "Because, Karen, you re my friend. You said you would help me out with this, and I think if you re gonna back out now it s a really shitty thing for you to do." Something about the tone in his voice the anger mixed with brutal honesty made me sh ut up. Kevin had never raised his voice before, and while that wasn t exactly shou ting, it was the closest he had ever gotten. We didn t speak for the rest of the drive there, and when we arrived and were sitt ing in the parked car, we spoke out of necessity. "We have to at least pretend we like each other in there," Kevin said at last. I shrugged, crossing my arms and staring out the window. "Fine." "I don t know why you re mad; I m the one who should " "You?" I spat back. "What am I getting out of this? I m doing this for you. And no

w I can t even have the one thing I ve wanted for as long as I remember because of you ." "You re the one who said, Do you want to make a deal? " he pointed out. He unbuckled his seatbelt and it quickly retracted to its original place with a loud noise. H e turned toward me and looked me straight in the eye, narrowing his own eyes in anger. "It was your idea. Don t even pin this on me." Shaking my head to myself, I grabbed my purse and swung open the car door. "Don t worry, I m not gonna fight with you in front of them. Let s just get this over with. " I walked ahead and, hearing a car door slam behind me, knew Kevin was following me. I didn t slow down my pace to let him catch up, though I wanted to because I s till had no idea where we were or why I was there. I didn t even know where I was walking. "Karen." I reluctantly turned around at the sound of Kevin s voice. He rolled his eyes and cocked his head toward the building opposite the one I was approaching. I sighed and followed. Finally I couldn t take the wondering anymore. "Where are we?" I asked as he held the door open for me. I was momentarily taken aback by his manners he was mad at m e and yet he still held the door open. Despite my anger, I had to admit that he was damn gentlemanly. "Retirement home," he answered tersely. He walked to the receptionist s desk, paus ed to exchange a few words, and led the way down a long corridor. "What for?" "It is my grandmother s birthday." "What am I doing here?" He turned down another hallway and stopped in front of a door. "She wanted to me et you and my mom assumed I d want to bring you." By the dry tone of his voice it was obvious that after our fight he didn t want me there. Kevin raised his hand, r eady to knock on the door, then looked at me for confirmation. "No fighting, rig ht? We re a happy couple?" "Whatever you want them to think," I sighed, crossing my arms, "since apparently that s all that matters." He looked like he wanted to say something to defend himself but then thought bet ter of it. Taking a deep breath, he knocked loudly on the door. Nick answered the door. "Hey," he greeted us, almost sounding relieved. "Mom and Grandma are " Kevin nodded absently-mindedly and pushed past Nick to get through the door. "Okay then," Nick said quietly. I smiled apologetically at Nick for two reasons: (1) Because I was, after all, the reason why Kevin was in his current temperament, and (2) Because, as I have sai d in the past, I am the patron saint of younger siblings and all the shaftyness they must endure. I stepped through when he opened the door wider for me to pass. "How are you?" I asked. I admit that I really didn t care how Nick was doing. It was just my pathe

tic way of stalling because this time I couldn t be by Kevin s side the entire time and I didn t know what I would do with myself. Perhaps Nick could be my Kevin for the day. They looked similar enough. They both had that curly hair action workin g for them. Nick seemed surprised that I asked. "I m... good. Thanks. How are you?" "I m good, too." Look at that. We were conversing already. He nodded and walked away. Thanks, Nick. I looked around the room. It was essentially a medium-sized apartment, adorned w ith birthday decorations and balloons. There were several people in the room but as I looked around I saw that Kevin, Nick, a girl Nick was talking to, and I we re the only young ones. Oh, and Joe. I spotted him sitting on a couch with a pla stic red cup in his hand, resting his elbow on the couch s armrest and leaning his head on his other hand. And of course there was Frankie, youngest of all, sitti ng on a couch playing his DS. All the old people appeared to be having a good time. They all seemed to know ea ch other, so I suppose they were all from this retirement home. As I busied myself by pouring a drink of orange juice I heard Kevin talking to h is father. "Where are Mom and Grandma?" "I tried to tell you when you first came in but you shafted me," Nick interrupte d. "I m sorry. Dad, where are they?" "They went to pick up the cake." "And why didn t they do it... I don t know, beforehand?" "That s what I said," Mr. Jonas chuckled. "Great," Kevin sighed. I flitted my eyes past the snacks on the table. Cheese, crackers, grapes, a cani ster of digestive biscuits, and... oatmeal. I am all for old people but you have got to be kidding me. Oatmeal? Don t they realize they are just perpetuating the stereotype that all old people have bland tastes in food? Who sets out a giant g lass bowl of oatmeal on a table of refreshments and calls it a day? I broke off a small cluster of grapes from the large bunch in the bowl and snack ed on them as I looked around for someone to talk to. I finally settled on a gro up of two old ladies because they looked like they d once been only slightly dull. (Please excuse my excessive judging of the elderly, but I never really had gran dparents, so to me they re another species entirely.) "And Bea," the one whose hair had a bluish tint said, "you remember Bea." I didn t remember Bea but I walked up to them and nodded as though I did. "Bea..." The one with the greyer hair frowned slightly and stared off into the d istance, her wrinkled fingers absent-mindedly tracing over the rim of her mug. "

Was she the one..." I popped a grape into my mouth and turned to Blue, waiting for her response. Blue took a long drink from her cup and said, "She always liked roses." "I think I remember," Gray said slowly so slowly that I wasn t sure I believed her. "Yes, we went to the movies once... and she had a husband what was his name?" Even though none of them had acknowledged my existence, I shrugged and looked ba ck at Blue, figuring she would clue Gray in. But Blue was lost in her own world, too. "Her husband loved those roses. He would tend to them for hours and hours." "He was very tall," Gray added. Jeez. It finally occurred to me that maybe I wasn t wanted, so my grapes and I fled the scene. Times like these when I m bored or alone I miss Lucas. I know it s lame to miss h im when I ve only been on one date with the guy, but I like the way I feel when I m with him. It s pathetic to admit, but I spent the next three minutes staring at th e front door, wishing Lucas could show up. Then again, if he did show up, that would bring about a whole new set of questio ns like why was he there? And then he d wonder why I was there and I d have to explain about Kevin and that would be a huge mess. So maybe not. I saw Kevin near the door, standing in a corner conversing with an old man. He s eemed to be having a good time but I can never tell with Kevin he s so good at keepi ng a front that you never know what he s really thinking. But for just a split second, Kevin actually let it show. Right then the door ope ned and Mrs. Jonas and (I m assuming) her mother walked inside, Mrs. Jonas carryin g a large pink box. Kevin s eyes lit up and he smiled, giving a large sigh of reli ef. Then he seemed to remember the person he was talking to, so he turned back t o him. But for the rest of the conversation Kevin was smiling a little more. I d on t think the man ever realized Kevin kept an eye on that pink box the entire tim e they were talking. As Mrs. Jonas passed by me, she smiled and squeezed my arm with one of her hands . "Glad to see you, Karen." I smiled back and thanked her. Mrs. Jonas noticed her mother giving me a strange look, so she called out to Kev in, "Kevin! Introduce your girlfriend to Grandma!" and then took the giant pink box into the kitchen, leaving me to stand there awkwardly with this old lady. (A nd my grapes. I was still holding six wet grapes in my hand and it would have be en weird to eat them now.) Kevin glanced up upon hearing his name and then his eyes rested on me. He didn t g ive any sort of expression that read Oh, God, not this bitch again, but then aga in it s Kevin, who is as polite as he is pleasant. So he smiled and walked on over . "Kevin!" his grandmother exclaimed. I decided to call her Grandma Jonas. I know that if she s Kevin s mother s mother then obviously she wouldn t be Mrs. Jonas, she d be Mrs. Whatever-Mrs. Jonas s-maiden-name-is, but I haven t got time for all those extr a words, so in my head she ll be Grandma Jonas.

Grandma Jonas pulled Kevin into a massive hug and bombarded him with kisses all over his face. This PDA-bordering-on-incest creeped me out but Kevin seemed to e njoy it, considering the way he hugged Grandma Jonas back and let her lay all th ose (probably unsanitary) kisses on him. "Grandma," he said when she finally released him from her death grip, "this is m y girlfriend Karen." He said it pretty evenly no obvious signs of hatred, anyway. "Oh, it s lovely to meet you, Karen," Grandma Jonas told me, smiling warmly at me and taking my (grapeless) hand in both of hers. "It s nice to meet you, too," I found myself saying, though a little flustered. I must be falling under her old person spell or something. "You have such expressive eyes," she observed, peering seriously into my (appare ntly expressive) eyes. "Thank you," I said politely, though I hadn t the faintest idea what the hell that meant, or if it was even a compliment. Aren t eyes supposed to be expressive? All she really did was state a fact. Shit, that s like observing that someone s teeth a re particularly enamel-y. "So, Kevin, are you going to tell the girl who I am or what?" I mentally gave Grandma Jonas a prop. He smiled despite the fact that she just owned him, as if to say Oh, Grandma Jon as. You and your ways, and said, "Karen, this is Grandma. She ll ask you to call h er Edna." "Edna," Grandma Jonas said along with him at the same time he said her name. Sor ry, GJ, but you ll be Grandma Jonas for all of time now. "She ll insist that you call her Edna," Kevin added, looking pointedly at me. God, Kevin, I get it. "Happy birthday, Edna!" I told her. "Thank you, dear." She seemed glad I did as told. I guess not all the Jonases ar e tricky. She looked at me in contemplation before adopting a feisty look and as king, "So, have you made a man out of my Kevin yet?" "Grandma!" Kevin protested, looking uncomfortable, just as I laughed loudly. "Oh, Kevin, I m only joking. I know you re pure. The whole world does," she added, c asting me a side glance. "You know, when I was your age, I had already " "Cake!" Kevin interrupted. "Mom needs help with the cake. Unboxing it can be tri cky." He practically ran out of the room, leaving Grandma Jonas and me (which so unds like a spin-off of that children s book series Grandma and Me. I d totally buy the book Grandma Jonas and Me, though). "He always does that," Grandma Jonas murmured to me. "I guess his ears are too p ure for him to listen to any of my talk." I burst out laughing. In two minutes Grandma Jonas had completely turned around my view of old people. I bet even Blue and Gray were kinky. "What about you?" she asked, turning to me. "Are you pure?"

Oh. I was being put on the spot. What to do? Oh, what the hell, I ll give her the truth. She deserved it. "No," I admitted. My one and only high school boyfriend had had the honor of dep urifying me. "That s how I like em!" d-person move, but I let mostly out of disbelief, nds now. Everybody wants she laughed, leaning in to pinch my cheek a totally cliche ol it slide because she s such a fucking badass. I laughed, and was sorry when she said, "I have to go make the rou me."

Hell, I wanted her. I d tap that. I was sorry to see Grandma Jonas go. Suddenly I was jealous of Kevin for having such an awesome grandma. He could have the celebrity and the adoring fans and th e money I just wanted Grandma Jonas. And I was alone again. I remembered the grapes in my hand and, despite the fact that they were warm and I have a thing about eating warm fruit, I ate them. Most ly because they were there. I pulled out my phone, about to text Rachel, but I thought better of it when I r ealized she would get all up in my grill, asking questions about why I was fight ing with Kevin and all that. I still don t think she quite approves of my whole Ke vin dealio. And now I can see why. I walked to the refreshment table and took another handful of grapes. Mostly bec ause they were there. "Hey." I turned to my side and saw Joe. I wasn t sure why he was talking to me during my vi sit to the Jonas house, he d said very few words to me, most of them because he ha d to. "Hey," I replied, forcing a small smile. He looked like he was going to say something, so I remained looking at him expec tantly. Joe reached for the half-empty platter of cheese and crackers. He busied himself with putting a piece of cheddar cheese on a cracker, then putting anoth er cracker on top of that to form a sandwich. He slowly took a bite. Oh, dear Go d. What he has to say had better be pretty damn important. "Are you as bored as I am?" Really? "Maybe," I said with a shrug. It depended on whether he was going to alleviate m y boredom or further worsen it, if possible. He still had negative points in my book because of the smartassery he displayed last time. Joe just shrugged and continued to molest his cracker sandwich. "Who d you come with?" I asked, realizing I had yet to see his date. "I could say the same to you." He raised an eyebrow and grinned a little. I frowned. "You know I came with Kevin."

"That s funny," he commented lightly. "I haven t seen you two talking the whole time you ve been here." As he busied himself with making another cracker sandwich, he added innocently, widening his eyes, "I m beginning to suspect you guys are fighti ng." I steeled myself, prepared to defend the honor of myself and my fake boyfriend, when I realized it didn t really matter. My fake boyfriend was helping his mother unbox a cake because his pure ears couldn t handle a conversation with his incredi bly cool grandmother. "Is it that obvious?" I asked desperately. He smirked as he turned his cracker sandwich into a triple-decker one. Ambitious . "Only because I ve spent the past half hour sitting on that couch over there wat ching people." "You didn t come with anyone?" "Nah," he shrugged. I was curious but dropped the subject. I probably wouldn t hav e cared about his personal boundaries, considering this was the guy, after all, who displayed such excellent levels of asshattery the other day, but he seemed n ice today and I decided I would give him a chance. Clearly I m awesome. I nodded, then... kept nodding. Like a retarded bobble head doll. I don t know. No w I was just nodding because I couldn t think of anything else to say. It s his turn , anyway, I think. Nah. What kind of response is that? "Have you tried that cheese?" I looked over at the platter he gestured to and saw that he was pointing at a wh itish brick of Brie cheese, in between the cheddar and the pepper jack. Joe Jonas, initiating a conversation about cheese, with me? He must really be bo red, that poor fool. "It s disgusting," I told him. "It tastes like creamy nothingness." He smiled. "Yeah, I m not really a fan either." And more silence. I wasn t being quiet to torture Joe (though that was definitely a bonus), but this was just how I am in social situations. I had absolutely no i dea what to do or say because no matter what you talk about, the conversation di es again. And then you have to get all random and bring up a new conversation su bject, which makes you look desperate, and the whole thing s always uncomfortable. And that s why I m not a fan of social situations. Fuck em. "How did you like meeting my grandma?" Lost in my own thoughts, I looked at Joe quizzically. "My grandma?" he prompted, an obvious look on his face. "Gray hair? Wrinkly? I k now that describes about seventy percent of the people in this room but I can t be more specific than that." "Oh!" I exclaimed, as if there had been some confusion, what with all the Grandm a Jonases in the room and what not. "Yeah, I thought she was awesome."

"Isn t she?" Joe grinned fondly. "Yeah. That s why I said it." His grin turned sheepish (can grins do that? It inspires an image of a grin deci ding to become a sheep. See, this is why I m not an English major. I ll just leave t hat English stuff to Lucas when we get married and have gorgeous blonde children ). "Nice." I had to smile back. "I learn from the best. Or the worst." "Sorry about that the other day." He leaned against the refreshments table and g rabbed a cracker. "It wasn t personal." I shrugged. "It s okay. It s actually pretty fun." "I know," he started to say. "That s why you did it," I finished. I couldn t help myself we both started laughing. Nervously, yes, but laughing. It was a start. "Where the hell did you get that f rom?" "I don t even know," he chuckled, shaking his head. "I m always finding new ways to piss people off." I nodded, though I didn t believe it for a second because this is a Jonas Brother we r e talking about, after all. I think that just by being a Jonas Brother you sacri fice all rights to any sort of badassness. I once more meandered into bobble head territory when the conversation died yet again. I started looking around. I wondered what Blue and Gray were up to. I mis sed them. "You go to UCLA, right?" I turned back to face Joe. He was trying, I d give him that. "Yeah." When he start ed doing the bobble head thing, I added, "Political science" before he could ask . "Huh?" "My major," I said slowly. "It s always the next thing people ask." He shrugged. "I... don t care what your major is," he said just as slowly. It was then that I remembered he wasn t a college student. It s all anyone asks when they m eet you. And I couldn t blame them because I did it too. I always ask in the hopes that we ll have the same major and it ll give me something to bond over with the pe rson. I don t know what you do after that. I usually ask about the major and then get the hell out of there. It s all the socializing I can take, hence why I get ne rvous during long periods of forced socializing. "Right." "But, you know, political science, that s cool," Joe started rambling, probably fe eling bad about what he d just said. "Yay politics." "Woot," I added half-heartedly. He frowned a little and stared at me. "What?"

"Never mind." "Okay." He sighed loudly and looked around the room. "Do you want to sit down?" Before I could answer he was already walking toward the couch he d just been sitti ng on before. I joined him because I had nothing else to do. What a sight we were. Me, with grapes in my hand (I had completely forgotten I d h ad them in my hand until this moment. And dammit, they were warm again) and sitt ing next to Joe, who was holding a pile of crackers in one hand. I guess he d stop ped with the cheese and cracker sandwiches. Maybe he s got to keep his slim figure . You d better watch those carbs, Joe. And some old man was sitting next to Joe. Yep, we were quite a sight. "So..." Joe turned to me, breaking a cracker in half before putting it into his mouth. "How s life?" I almost wanted to roll my eyes but refrained from doing so out of politeness. " Why are you talking to me?" I asked suspiciously. Did he want a fake girlfriend, too? Were all the Jonases incapable, for some reason or another, of getting an actual girlfriend? Were they involved in a cult? What the hell, Jonases? Joe shrugged, appearing completely unfazed by my abrupt question. "Mostly becaus e you re not a hundred years old." I had to laugh. "Thanks." "You re welcome," he said sincerely, as though my thanks had been heartfelt. "I sa w you over there. You weren t having any fun talking to all those other old people ." Hearing him say this, I didn t feel so bad for the ways in which I stereotyped old people. Maybe it s not because I m deprived of grandparents; maybe it s just what young people do. Good to know it s not just me being the asshole; it s my entire gen eration. "I had fun with your grandma," I pointed out. "Yeah, but my grandma s awesome." "Very true," I laughed. "Back off, though. She s mine." Just when I start to think he s normal... I rolled my eyes and decided to humor him. "What?" "I m her favorite person," he explained calmly, turning to me with a serious expre ssion. Shaking my head and shrugging listlessly, I felt like I had to add something to the conversation. His expression was begging me to. I asked, "She said that, or. ..?" "When I was eight," he began, "she told me that if she was my favorite person, I could be her favorite person. We shook on it and everything. I m not allowed to t ell my brothers, though, because they d get jealous." He said it without the faint est hint of irony. I think he actually believed it. I couldn t tell whether it was cute or pathetic. "Wow," I said, for lack of something better to say.

"I know you re jealous." I kind of was. I d love to be Grandma Jonas favorite person. We sat there in silence some more, but this time it didn t seem as awkward. I gues s you have to push through the socially awkward stage to get through to the comf ortable ones. But I never do that, which is why I have very few friends. I think I m far too intolerant of people. "What about Nick?" I asked, looking over at the Jonas Brother in question. "What about him?" "He s not old. You could talk to him." "He wants nothing to do with me," Joe laughed. I was confused. Usually it s the older sibling who wants nothing to do with the sw eet, darling younger sibling. Was Nick giving younger siblings everywhere a bad rep? Or was Joe really that obnoxious? Because now he didn t seem so bad. Weird, y es, and maybe a little crazy, but he was interesting to talk to, I d give him that . "That s his girlfriend," he explained, gesturing (rather conspicuously, I might ad d) to the girl Nick was talking to. Or she s his fake girlfriend. You never know with these Jonas brothers. "Oh," I said, surprise entering my voice. "But I thought he wasn t seeing anyone." Yep, that s the fastest way to sound like a pedophile stalker. When I was bored I sometimes Googled the Jonas Brothers. I don t know why. I just got a kick out of reading gossip shit about them, trying to see if I could tell for myself what wa s true and what wasn t. There wasn t much on Kevin (he was right, he really did need to get out more), and with the little they did have on him I was able to distin guish between what was fact and what was fiction, but I took what was said about Nick and Joe at face value. Speaking of Joe, it was killing me to keep myself from asking about the whole tw enty-seven second phone call business. I mean, that s got to be some kind of a rec ord. I want to know how he could have done that not that I care about his insensit ivity or anything; I really want to know how it s possible to break up with someon e in twenty-seven seconds. That is some fucking skill right there. Now it was his turn to be surprised. "Kevin didn t tell you?" Why would he? It s not like I go around telling Kevin about all the insignificant details in Rachel s life. "I guess I forgot." "So, you and Kevin?" Joe asked, turning to me. Yes, Jonas, we re still "together." Don t think you can snag me and get me to do all your weird, fake-girlfriend activities. I d rather fight and get fat with Kevin t han straighten your hair or help you squeeze into those incredibly tight jeans o f yours. "Yep, me and Kevin," I repeated nonchalantly. "Or Kevin and me, if you want to b e grammatically correct."

"Kevin and I," Joe said in a know-it-all voice. Oh, but he was wrong. It s not alw ays I, my dumb friend. Don t doubt the college girl. "What about you and Kevin?" I turned to face him, giving him my best "No," he began, "I was just " "It s not correcting if you re wrong," I told him simply, smiling a little to show I wasn t a total bitch. Because, honestly, I didn t mind sitting there with Joe. It w as weird and at times uncomfortable, but I d rather be there than standing at the refreshment table with Blue and Gray. But then this doesn t even compare to being with Lucas. "So," I said to change the subject before he could remember he d been trying to pr y out the details about me and Kevin dammit, Kevin and I shit, Kevin and me. "This i s some shin-dig," I commented. "And you re turning into an old person right before my eyes," he said, shaking his head. "You wouldn t expect to see the Jonas Brothers spending their weekend at a retirem ent home," I continued. Now I was just muttering nonsense but I hoped some of it would be enough to get him going on another tangent. "Yeah, but it s a Sunday," he said with a simple shrug, as if that explained every thing. I picked at a piece of fluff on my jeans and dropped the grapes in my lap. Shit, h ow do I keep forgetting about these grapes in my hand? Now they re even warmer gross a nd they re on my jeans. "What does that mean?" I could tell he was watching me as I picked the grapes ou t of my lap. He didn t offer me the napkin he was holding right there in his hand, but whatever, Joe. Whatever. "Anything goes on a Sunday." One of the freakishly warm grapes split open and got its disgusting warm grapey juices on my pants. That sounds vaguely like a That s what she said gone wrong. "You could spend your Sunday having an awesome time doing something cool," Joe c ontinued, because he was either unbeknownst to the crisis situation going on in my lap or he liked the melodious sound of his own voice, "or you could just spen d it... I don t know, reading a book or going grocery shopping. It doesn t matter be cause it s Sunday." He kind of had a point. Nobody really asks what you have planned for Sunday. I u sually spend Sundays studying or on my computer it s only if I m lucky that I have a S unday worth talking about, but I don t even mind that because I expect my Sundays to be peaceful. "Okay then." I gave up on the forming stain and picked the grapes out of my lap. Joe finally decided to give me his napkin, so I dumped them into the napkin and set it on the coffee table next to me. "What did you do Saturday, then, if Sund ay doesn t count?" "My little brother and I made cookies." He was fighting back a smile. I had to laugh. I assumed he meant Frankie, because I couldn t imagine Nick in an apron whatsoever. I don t know why I was judging someone s baking capabilities by th I care face.

e way they looked in an apron. "You re right, you re definitely the party animal." "I told you." He ate another cracker and it was then that I realized that in all this time we had been talking, he had eaten two crackers. Kevin and I would hav e already finished that and gone back for thirds. I nodded and we sat there silently for a while. It wasn t horrible. It was like th e silences Kevin and I had, but without all the food. It was like the silences L ucas and I had, but without the pounding heart and the soulful eye-sex and the s uspense and... wow, I miss him. But who knew there could be so many different ki nds of silences? I leaned my elbow on the armrest, resting my head in my hand, and let my thought s wander. What if Kevin did make me choose? It would be between my happiness and L ucas happiness, and the happiness of our future blonde children and a promise to Ke vin. A fucking promise to a bastard who needs me and only me to fulfill his weir d duties, for reasons he still won t tell me. Talk about trust issues. How can he expect me to choose him if he won t even be honest? Thinking about it just made me miserable, confused and angry. I just wanted to be with Lucas. That was all I d ever wanted. Because honestly, th is doesn t happen to me. Boys don t ask me out. Boys don t like me. I thought my high school boyfriend was just demented or settling for picking me because there are only so many girls at high school, but at college you can take your pick. Lucas was either delusional or completely awesome. "Joe!" I heard Mrs. Jonas call out from the kitchen. "Come here a minute!" "Okay!" he shouted back, nearly deafening me. He started to get up, then sat bac k down as abruptly. "Oh," he said quietly, leaning over me to put the crackers i n his hand (see, it s so easy to forget the food you have in your hands. I don t kno w why) onto the grape-filled napkin I d placed on the coffee table. "Don t worry abo ut Kevin," he told me. I looked at him, surprised by his sincerity, but he was c oncentrating on getting cracker crumbs off of his hands. "He s too nice to be stub born. You guys ll be back together by the end of the day." But on what terms? We weren t simple, Kevin and I. It was just a friendship; it sh ould have been simple. But it wasn t. "Thanks," I forced a small smile, and he shrugged and stood up, heading into the kitchen. I appreciated that he d tried to help me it really did mean something, tha t he was actually sort of nice under the douchebaggery (when he wasn t being weird , anyway) but he d only made it worse. On what terms? Bringing out the cake came next. In true badass fashion, Grandma Jonas had insis ted on a candle for each year she was alive "I m not going to blow out two wax numbe rs. That s boring," she d told Mrs. Jonas and so, though we were all already crowded a round the table, staring at the cake, it was decided that Joe would drive down t o the store for sixty-eight birthday candles. As Mrs. Jonas sighed and placed the cake back in the freezer, I felt a light tap on my shoulder. I turned around to see Kevin, completely expressionless and ges turing for me to follow him. He led me out of the apartment and down a hallway, past the reception area, and outside. Oh, how I missed fresh air after being in a musty apartment with a very

distinct old-person smell. I took a seat on a bench and Kevin sat next to me. We didn t speak for a few moments. I listened to the birds, watched kids riding th eir bikes down the street, shuffled my feet on the concrete beneath me. All the while I was all-too aware of Kevin sitting next to me, just as absorbed in eithe r his thoughts or the world around him. Or both. "I like him," I said quietly. "I know you do," he replied just as softly. "So?" "So... I think I overreacted." For the first time I turned to face him, not letting myself get hopeful because I knew a but was coming. It is me, after all. He licked his lips and bit thoughtfully on his bottom lip, staring at something beyond me. "And," he continued, "I m sorry." I got an and. For once. "So..." Okay, I was hoping a little. "Of course you can be with Elevator Boy." He shrugged, shaking his head a little . "I was stupid. It s not like they film you at UCLA. Like you said, they don t even know about UCLA. It s fine." Kevin wasn t a bastard after all. A tingling sensation went through the bridge of my nose, the kind you get when your eyes get all watery, which is ridiculous bec ause I had no reason to cry. And I wasn t crying, I was just... watering. But I wa s on my period, so I had an excuse. "Thank you." He shrugged again, then narrowed his eyes, peering into my face. "Are you okay?" I don t know why I told him the truth. Like I said, it was my period. "I felt so alone," I murmured. I didn t explain myself any further than that, but I think on some level he knew. He must have known how alone I d been until Lucas c ame along. How alone I d been just then at the party without Kevin next to me, des pite his brother s best efforts. How alone I d be without either of them in my life. Kevin nodded but didn t say anything. "Yeah," he said at last. I must have looked so pathetic that he decided to hug me. It was strange to real ize, but it was the first time Kevin and I had ever hugged. That day we d delved i nto a friendship deeper than either of us had anticipated. We were no longer acq uaintances by any sense of the word. I was involved now. I had ties with his fam ily; I knew his grandmother for God s sake. All of this would only make it messier in the end. "What s wrong with you?" I lifted my head from my plate to look across the table at Rachel. "What?"

"You re... not eating." It s a little sad that my refraining from eating is the thing that clues my sister in that something s awry. But I do love food, so I guess it s true. Also true: I ha dn t really touched my plate of lasagna. Not because it was frozen, Stouffer s brand , and I m some sort of lasagna purist or something because I think we all know I m a g reat big food slut but because I d already eaten beforehand. I d actually been dying t o tell Rachel the exact circumstances of this eating beforehand but I wanted her to bring it up. And I think I just found my in. "Yeah, I already ate," I told her casually, using my fork to cut off the tiniest corner from the lasagna and putting it in my mouth. Oh, lasagna. I m so sorry I m t oo full to eat you. It not you, it really is me. Rachel paused, fork in mid-air, to stare at me with a dumb expression on her fac e. It was pretty funny, actually. "Why?" she asked. Because she knows as well as I do that I wouldn t go eat something if there s an opportunity for a free meal els ewhere. "A date." I shrugged and reached for my water glass, watching her over the top o f the rim as I took a sip of water. She still looked confused. It was awesome. C ome on, Rachel, say it. Say it like the bitch you are. "But your date with Kevin is... in an hour." I had to fight back the smug smile. It was hard, too. "This was a different date ." Rachel looked the same, with the confused expression and the fork of lasagna sti ll held in the air. Normally it would bug me that she was teasing the food like that, but I was having too much fun teasing her to care. Then she dropped the confused look and rolled her eyes, finally shoving the bite into her mouth. "What, you re fake-dating someone else now? Another Jonas brother t he jailbait one?" Ouch. Okay, screw the casual thing. "No, dummy, I mean a real date. I.e., a boy asked me out and I accompanied him!" I had tried to say it while sounding pissed-off but the twelve-year old girl in me won and I think my voice got squealier and squealier as the sentence went on . Hence why it ended with an exclamation point when it should have ended with a period. Only true dorks note the punctuation of the words they say aloud. She raised her eyebrows in her own attempt of casualness (casuality? Cash?) and then gave it up, also surrendering to her inner twelve-year old. "Really? Like, seriously?" "Yes!" I squealed. "Oh my god!" she exclaimed. "Was it Elevator Boy?" "Yes!" "Oh my god!" "I know!"

"Tell me about everything," she demanded. As if remembering we were at the dinne r table, she composed herself somewhat and took another bite of her food. I couldn t say how many times I had said those exact words to her whenever she tol d me about dates she d had. It felt good to be on the receiving end. I hadn t been s ince high school when I started going out with Zac, but then Rachel got tired of hearing about us because things stop being new and exciting after a while. I couldn t remember when I d last filled Rachel in on my Lucas situation. If she was still calling him Elevator Boy, it must have been a while ago. I think we were both to blame whenever I called, she was always off being awesome (I don t really kn ow what she does when she s busy, but obviously it s important because it s Rachel we re talking about here), and when she called I was in the library with my phone tur ned off. I told her about our walk on campus, our exchanging of phone numbers, our first date... and our second and third dates. Yep, two dates in the past week. It was great. The first time, I d gotten sick of studying in the library one afternoon an d called him. It turned out he was on campus, too, waiting out a spare hour betw een classes, and he proposed a lunch date. It was nothing special just us getting a sandwich and sitting under a tree to eat it but a lot of magical crap went down. Like how he hugged me when I met up with him and he smelled delicious. And how we held hands on the way there. And how the conversation just flowed. It was rea lly nice, that it was so easy. I was sorry when it was time for him to go to cla ss. I think there was a moment when we might have kissed but we lingered too lon g and it was ruined. So we d settled for a let s-pretend-we-both-weren t-staring-lustf ully-at-each-other s-lips hug. And the third date, the one that just took place not two hours ago? It was even more magical than the first and second combined. We walked to a Thai restaurant across the street from our dorm and did some more of our awesome, easy, flirt-ta lking, during which we decided to fully admit that we completely liked the other and established our status as boyfriend and girlfriend. (That part wasn t so easy . It was actually really awkward. But after it was decided we were both kind of giggling and blushing into our curries. Yes, Lucas giggled too. I m sure he ll omit that part when he tells the story to our grandchildren.) And what happened after he walked me to the bus stop and we stood there, stupidly extending the convers ation beyond its expiration date because we were too busy staring at each other? A kiss went down. Three kisses, actually. Yeah. That s right. That brings the gran d total of guys I ve kissed to two. (Well, three if you count Kevin s weird kiss fro m back in the day. But who s counting that?) And that brought me back to where I was, sitting at the dinner table with Rachel , blushing slightly and grinning wildly. "He likes you," she stated, smiling. I d take offense to the level of surprise in her voice if I wasn t being so surprise d myself. "Yeah," I agreed dumbly. "He likes me. For... reasons reason cannot kno w. " Oh my God, I just quoted Shakespeare. How is it that I know Shakespeare? All his English major goodness is rubbing off on me already. Rachel ignored my random nonsense (heh) and, thinking I was suffering from low s elf-esteem, defended me and said there were plenty of reasons for him to like me . Rachel, I love you but that wasn t the point. Read more. (Note that I don t have t o because I ve got a lovely blonde boyfriend to read for me.) We were going over the details of our third date/first kiss(es) for the fourth t ime when my phone rang it was Kevin s ringtone.

"Really?" she asked dryly. I shrugged. It was only appropriate that the ringtone for Kevin Jonas should be a Jonas Brothers song. "Hello?" "I m here. Where are you?" Oh... "Heh," I forced out, "uh... I m not there?" "What?" "Yeah, I m at my sister Rachel s apartment," I explained meekly. I d only meant to dro p by Rachel s for dinner and then rush back to my dorm so Kevin could pick me up, but I hadn t planned on my date with Lucas, so I hadn t planned on needing to go ove r every detail of it with Rachel. My bad. "Bah. You re only contributing to global warming." He wasn t mad. I couldn t really imagine him mad, except for our fight last weekend. I ve learned that Kevin s not the guy to let the little things bug him. I liked tha t about him. Still, though, I felt bad for inconveniencing him. "Sorry." "Just give me the address." Once I did, I added, "And hey. I m not contributing anything. I ride the bus." "Bye." I hung up and looked back at Rachel, who was taking my barely-eaten lasagna off of my plate and putting it into the pan with the rest of it. I m sorry, lasagna. " He s on his way," I added, in case my side of the conversation hadn t made that clea r. "Gasp. Kevin Jonas in my apartment," she dead panned. Note how excited she is. T he girl is clearly spoiled by working with somewhat famous people. After the mov ie premiere, while I was off sorting out my Kevin deal, Rachel was making use of her newfound contacts and had hinted to working on several big "projects." I do n t know what that s supposed to mean. In my world, a "project" is slapping some gli tter on a posterboard and calling it a day. "Yeah, you re jealous," I replied. I helped her clean up after that, and then we sat around her living room waiting for Kevin s arrival. I think we d already done our share of talking and then some at th e dinner table, so watching TV was an appropriate activity to do next. And then my phone rang. As Rachel groaned at the sound of the annoying ring tone t hough I didn t mind it; I actually kind of liked "Burnin Up" I smiled at her large si gh and answered: "Hello?" "I m here. Do you want me to come in, or...?" I considered it. I decided I would rather avoid the awkwardness of introducing K evin to Rachel and then watching them make small-talk before one of us broke the silence and decided it was time to go. "Nah. I ll meet you out front."

Rachel raised her eyebrows at me, watching me hang up. "Are you ashamed of me?" "Yes." I knew she was just kidding, and she knew I was just kidding, so it was a ll good. I think she was glad to avoid the awkwardness as well not that it would b e a problem for her, because as we know Rachel blossoms in all social situations . I stood up to gather my things. "I ll see you next weekend?" "I think I ll be out of town. Top secret project," she explained, causing me to ro ll my eyes. I don t know why she can t just say commercial. Or music video. Or... great, now I m curious. "Weekend after that?" she asked. I paused from putting my shoes on. "I ll be studying for midterms." "Again?" I made sure to be looking down at the shoe I was putting on so I would miss her expression of confusion and/or disapproval. "Yep," I signed grimly, firmly sinking my other heel into the shoe and standing up. "The second round s starting again." Before she could start asking me about sc hool, I silenced her with a hug. "Bye!" I yelped, then rushed out the door. When I went outside and got into Kevin s car, it was his turn to give something to me. Unfortunately, it wasn t delicious and pastry-like. "Watch" was all he said when he gave it to me and began driving down the road. "You have an iPhone?" I asked, looking at the small device. I ignored the video on the screen and instead tilted it back and forth, watching the picture move. I m fascinated by this crap. My cell phone is ancient. "What? No, it s an iPod touch." "What s the difference?" I poked at the navy blue silicon case around it. Of cours e Kevin would choose a boring color like navy blue. "One is a phone," he said slowly. "One is not." "Yeah, but they both play music and videos and... whoa, you have YouTube on here ?" Kevin sighed. "Just watch the video." "Um... I don t know where it went," I admitted at last, after fiddling with the bu ttons for a while. "It says it s locked?" "How did you manage to lock it?" he asked in disbelief (and maybe a bit of disgu st). I don t blame him. I m one of the few people of my generation whose parents are better at using technology than their child. Maybe if my parents actually gave me a piece of technology from this era instead of old artifacts. I shrugged. "It wants a password." Kevin shook his head when I offered it to him, keeping his eyes on the road. "It s 3988," he told me. So he ll tell me his passwords but not the reason why he needs a fake girlfriend. Uh-huh. "Now what?" I asked, having successfully unlocked his iWhatever.

"Now you go to... Oh, never mind, just give it here." I watched as he struggled to keep his eyes on the road while every now and then glancing down and pressing a button. Man, that guy really lives on the edge. He passed it back to me and I followed his instruction to press play. What followed was a short, thirty-second video clip from Extra. It seemed they w ere quickly running through celebrities spotted with their new love interests, a nd among the clips showed was one of Kevin and I at the last fancy event we d gone to (I couldn t tell you what it was. Actually, I couldn t even tell you where we we re going now). It was nothing major, just him walking me back to his car as the announcer quickly rattled off his name and then moved on to the next celebrity, but I knew Kevin was glad to be getting more coverage, for whatever reason. "I m on TV," I said in awe. "Not quite," Kevin laughed. "I found that on YouTube." "I m on YouTube," I tried. Not the same effect. "Still, it s pretty cool, though, right?" "Definitely." I turned back to grin at Kevin, glad that finally things seemed to be working out between me and... well, everyone.

But not so much with school. When the next week started, I got my Classics paper back from my TA the one I d pull ed an all-nighter writing because I d agreed to meet Kevin s family on that last-sec ond whim of his. Yep, that s the paper. I could only stare blankly at the big, fat C- on it. I guess it wasn t that bad. I mean, I didn t work that hard on it I think it only took me a few sleep-deprived hours to write, and I guess considering the all-nighter circumstances, a C- isn t horrible but this wasn t helping my already miserable grade in Classics. And by now it was too late in the semester to change the course fr om a letter grade to pass/no pass, where even if I got a C- overall the grade wo uldn t show up on my transcript; it would just be a P for pass. Nope, now I could bask in the glory of having my horrible grade right there on my transcript for t he world to see. Fantastic. I knew I hated Classics 23A right from the start. Fuck you, Rome. So of course I was in a great mood when Rachel called as I was walking out of th e classroom toward my dorm, rolling up my paper and stuffing it half-heartedly i nto my backpack. It didn t deserve to be unwrinkled, that piece of filth. "Hello?" I sighed. There was a pause on the other end. "Jeez. Aren t you a ray of sunshine." "I, uh, burned my tongue," I was quick to say. Really, self? That s the best lie y ou can think of off the top of your head? No wonder you write C- papers. "Sure. Anyway, guess what?" Great. She has news she wants me to pretend to be ha ppy about. Fantastic.

"What?" "You know my project?" I shrugged even though I knew she couldn t see me. "Which one? The secret one or t he top secret one?" "You re forgetting the top, top secret one." I had to laugh. "What about it?" "Well," she began excitedly, "it s a movie. You know Ruth Hockley from the Freeze Out premiere? She was the producer?" No. But it s easier to lie and pretend because she d go on for hours trying to get m e to remember when it doesn t matter in the long run. "Uh-huh." "Well, we ve been talking and she wants me to come help be a part of the new movie she s working on! It s not important I ll probably just be doing grunt work like burnin g copies of dailies or something " "Burning what of what?" I got a strange look from the person standing next to me , who was with me waiting to cross the street. She ignored me. " but she wants me there! She says I have promise. She s flying me o ut there and everything!" "Whoa." This was a lot of information to process. And I still didn t get what she d be burning. Smokey the Bear kind of frowns upon that. One question at a time. "O ut where?" "San Francisco! I ll get to stay at home!" Her excitement didn t affect me. "For how long?" "A few months, I think." Rachel finally seemed to realize that I wasn t sharing he r joy. "It won t be that long," she assured me. "And San Francisco s not that far fr om LA. We ll still see each other." "What about your job now?" "Eh, we ll figure it out." Eh, we ll figure it out . That was Rachel s motto in life. She never let anything stand in the way of what she wanted because (say it with me) eh, we ll figure it out. I took a deep breath and asked my next question: "When?" I was aware that by dem anding all these details and bring up technicalities, I was putting a damper on her exciting news, but fuck that. "She says as soon as I can. They ve already started production, so... I guess I ll h ave to start sorting my life out right away, huh?" She gave a little laugh. "Kar en, are you okay?" she asked quietly, hearing my non-response. "I don t have to go .... I mean, I know you re busy with school, so if you really..." "No, it s fine," I assured her in what I hoped sounded like an upbeat tone. "I m gre at. Congratulations," I added. I d meant to end it with an exclamation point but I

guess there wasn t enough enthusiasm in me. Okay, I ve really got to stop punctuati ng myself. It s just weird. "It was just, I burned my tongue again." As I pulled m y keys out of my pocket to open the door to my building, I mentally chided mysel f on my slow thinking. "Why, what are you drinking?" "Nothing." I shook my head, amazed by my own stupidity. Rachel only laughed, com pletely oblivious. I glanced at the elevator, ready to push the button, when I s aw a note that said Elevator Out of Order. Fun. "Hey, can I call you back?" I asked. "I have to walk up a bajillion flights of s tairs because the elevator s broken." "Fun," she said. Hah, she is so my sister. After I congratulated her one more time because I was happy for her, on some level w e hung up and I began the treacherous walk up the stairs. My first strategy had been to go at them with full force, but after three flights I gave up and trudge d up them slowly, one by one. I heard loud, rapid echoes coming from somewhere above and I realized someone wa s coming down. And, what do you know, it was Lucas. "Hey!" he greeted me, looking surprised. I smiled softly and my heart started doing its rapid pounding thing. At least on e thing was going right today. "So, meeting on the stairs. This is new." "Yeah. Adds some definite spice to our relationship," he laughed quietly. I real ly wanted to kiss him but I didn t think we had yet reached that point in our week -old relationship where spontaneous kisses were the norm. We probably still had to build up to that. "How are you?" I set my backpack down and took a seat in the stairwell. It had, after all, been four days since I d last seen him. And kissed him. Come on, Lucas, kiss me. Kiss me good. Lucas shrugged, sitting next to me. "How are you?" "Tired." I was stating the obvious, considering I was still out of breath. Perha ps I should have joined the gym with Kevin. But then again I don t think he actual ly joined it. My theory is pretty credible. "You re talking to someone who lives on the eighth floor. I m not gonna feel sorry f or you." I smiled. I bet he didn t even need to stop and take a break like I did. Obviously it was because Lucas is a perfect specimen. "How many flights is that?" I asked, turning to him. He too turned to face me. Oh, our faces were so close. "Uh... well, there are tw o flights per floor, right?" I nodded absent-mindedly, watching his lips. "And t hen there s an extra flight between the first floor and the ground floor. So that s seventeen flights of stairs." He s an English major and he can count. Can I pick em or what?

"Wow," I said, for lack of something better to say to prove I hadn t been staring

at his lips the entire time. "Listen, Karen..." He turned serious and suddenly seemed very intent on adjustin g something on his shoe. That made me pay attention. "Uh, this is gonna sound really dumb, but..." ...would you make sweet monkey love to me? Because the answer to that one is easily yes. "...are you by any chance..." ...available for sweet monkey love? Because the answer to that one is also yes. "...cheating on me with a Jonas brother?" Oh. "What?" I asked, even though I d heard him the first time. My heart was pounding f uriously in my chest at this unexpected confrontation, but I had still heard him . "It s just..." Lucas shrugged and stared at the wall opposite us. "I saw this pict ure in a magazine of you and one of the Jonas brothers " "Kevin," I automatically interjected. Well, there goes any sort of strategy invo lving denial. "Kevin," he repeated. If the circumstances were different and I wasn t currently a fraid that my week-old relationship was about to dissolve, I would have found hi s jealousy cute. "And the caption said you guys have been dating for a month or something, so I was just wondering..." "We re just friends," I assured him. It was, after all, the truth. We were just fr iends. Lucas didn t have to know the circumstances of our friendship. "We... he ta kes me out sometimes and it s fun to just hang out." He considered this silently while I nervously picked at my fingernails. Great, b e nervous. That ll show him you re telling the truth. "If you were dating, that s cool, you can tell me." Lucas faced me, his serious bl ue eyes meeting my gaze. "I mean, you and I only just started going out." "No, we re definitely not," I laughed. I think my laughter came out a little too h igh-pitched and came off like it sounded forced. Even better. "Dating," I added. "Because obviously you and I are still going out." I hope. "Then why did it say you were?" His eyes were boring a hole through me. I squirm ed uncomfortably under his intent stare. "They lie about that stuff all the time!" I defended, my voice rising and increa sing in squeakiness. "Yeah, but the way they put it, it just sounded like it was fact." His tone wasn t accusatory, exactly. It just sounded like he was confused and he wanted to get to the bottom of it. I silently added the fact that he was calm and rational to

his ever-growing list of amazing qualities. "It s not." I made sure Lucas was looking at me with his intense gaze before I con tinued. "Kevin and I have never dated, nor will we ever date in the future becau se we re just friends, and..." Shyly I looked down at the step we were sitting on and picked at a small piece of foil. "I like you a lot," I finished quietly. I didn t see him smile because I was looking down, but I looked up when I heard hi s soft chuckle. "I like you, too." I smiled back at him and he shook his head, t elling me, "Sorry for being paranoid, I just thought..." "No, it s fine." "Good. I really didn t want to have to fight with a Jonas brother." Fight. He would fight for me! Suddenly pictures of men in tights fighting for my honor danced in my head. Why was it that I could easily imagine the Jonas Broth ers in tights? "I think you d win," I told him, grinning. Lucas laughed and slowly inched his fac e closer, and finally, sitting in that stairwell, we kissed. Never take astronomy. That s what my I tend to hang ping them they fact sometimes fortune cookie should have said. Not You have a very special gift. on to my fortunes and keep them stuffed in a drawer, as if by kee ll come true, but I throw away the bullshit ones that just state a not even that.

Sitting at my desk, I glanced at the fortune one more time and then threw it int o the garbage next to me. I heaved a frustrated sigh and returned to my astronom y problem set. I d taken astronomy to get rid of a science breadth requirement let s f ace it, I m never going to take a real science course like chemistry or biology but no one tells you astronomy is just physics. I d thought I was going to learn about the stars and crap, but no. I was learning formulas for making calculations in hypothetical situations involving the planets and the stars. If they changed the hypothetical situations to involve beakers and test tubes, would they call it c hemistry? I took another bite from my cold take-out container of orange chicken and stared at the problem, as if by reading it for a twelfth time I would suddenly realize what the hell was going on. Jupiter's moon Callisto orbits Jupiter at a distance of 1.88 x10^6 km. Its orbit al period is 16.7 days. What is the mass of Jupiter (assuming the mass of Callis to is negligible)? Seriously, what the hell? In lecture we weren t taught how to calculate this shit. The professor (whom I had firm reason to believe was senile) would show us pictures of planets and telesc opes and stuff. And then he d assign us these problems. I wasn t seeing a correlatio n here. My phone suddenly lit up on my desk. I was surprised that the ringtone hadn t gone off as always, but then I remembered I d switched it to silent mode while I was i n class earlier. After taking another bite of food, I reached for my phone and t urned it back to normal mode. I then scrolled through the notifications: Two new messages.

Both messages were from Lucas. What are you up to? read the first, sent half an hour ago. I'd learned that Luca s, in true English major form, texted like he was writing an essay. I usually te xt in shorthand, but I always made sure to respond to his texts with correctly s pelled words and perfect punctuation. I feel like he'd judge me if I didn't. The second one, sent fifteen minutes ago, read, I m bored. Save me. I smiled and typed in, Sorry, my phone was silenced. I then spent the next five minutes wondering if a comma was the correct punctuation mark to separate those two clauses. I changed it to a semicolon but then decided those were too overuse d, so I switched it to a period until I realized that made my text seem too chop py. I finally decided to stick with the comma. I added, I m doing astronomy homewo rk. What about you? My phone rang just as I hit send, causing me to accidentally answer it before I ev en knew what was going on. I frowned slightly at the confusing nature of my phon e and then submitted and pressed it to my ear. "Hello?" I said reluctantly, unsure of who was on the other end. "Are we still on for tonight?" It was Kevin. I could hear lots of voices in the background. I never knew where he was when he called or what he was doing but he always sounded busy. I closed my eyes and rubbed them tiredly. I d only gotten four hours of sleep, hav ing spent most of the night before reading a set of articles for my political sc ience class. "What s... what s tonight?" I was so tired that it hurt to close my eyes. I hate whe n that happens. "Night club," he said with just as much enthusiasm as I had. "You don t want to go." He didn t respond at first. "I like seeing the pictures and the sightings, though. We have to keep that going. It s like working out. You don t like doing it but you like the results." My phone beeped softly to let me know I d received a text message. Unfortunately, it lacked the technology to let me see the text message while I was on the phone . I was forced to ignore it for the time being. Impatiently I began tapping my p en on the desk, hoping Kevin would hurry up with the conversation so I could get back to my soul mate. "Like you even work out," I said. "Shut up." I smiled, then sighed as I thought about being at a night club with Kevin. I alr eady knew how it would turn out. We d grab a drink (my drinks were always virgin. Kevin often said I was the only college girl he knew who didn t drink. But I think I m the only college girl he knows, period), stand around awkwardly, take a break and sit at the bar talking, then maybe dance awkwardly, and then get the hell o ut of there and never speak of it again. I felt a headache coming on and I hadn t even put a dent in my political science r eading despite the long hours I d put in the night before. I really wasn t in the mo

od for a club. "Can we just... not... tonight?" Now there was a pause on Kevin s end. "How about just dinner?" he asked at last. " I know you ll be studying all day. Come on, you do need a break." Was that... a touch of concern in his voice? Was he getting all Rachel on me? Bu t the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. If anyone, it would be Ke vin to show brotherly concern. Not that I d be getting any attention from Rachel i n the next few months; whenever we talked she would gush over her imminent trip to San Francisco. It wasn t fair. This Ruth lady was taking away my sister and put ting her in the place where I most longed to be. "Karen?" he prodded softly. At the same time, my phone beeped again to let me kn ow I had another text message. "Yeah?" "What are you thinking about?" I usually hated that question because people only seem to ever ask that during a lull in the conversation. Not Kevin, though. I could hear that same note of con cern in his voice; he asked because he cared. It never failed to surprise me, ho w much Kevin cared about everyone he knew. So I answered honestly. "Rachel," I sighed. I used my fork to pick at the leftover pieces of orange chic ken and stuffed one in my mouth. "I know it sucks to be away from family," he said sympathetically. Did he really ? When was he ever away from his family? "Come to dinner," he continued, "and yo u ll feel better." "Okay." I let the fork rest back in the carton. "I have to study," I added. Kevin confirmed that he would pick me up at seven and we hung up. I closed my ey es for far longer than the length of a regular blink, wincing a little when it h urt to close them but reveling in the following feeling of temporarily relieving my sleepiness. I shook my head, opened my eyes, and returned to my phone. Two new messages, bot h from Lucas. The first: Reading for class. Something by this guy named Charles Dickens. Ever heard of him? The second: Joke. As in ha-ha. It s so hard to convey tone. How was it that words on a screen could get my heart racing? Smiling, I replied, Oh, I like you. Then it was back to astronomy. And then it wasn t. Because Lucas kept texting me throughout the day, asking at ra ndom what I was up to. It was always the same answer: homework. But sometimes I changed it up in my replies. I d say Studying one time, Reading another. Yeah, I m w ild. I couldn t tell if he was keeping tabs on me because he liked me and that was just how he acted around people he liked (if so, it was fucking adorable)... or if h e just didn t trust me after he confronted me about Kevin. He never brought it up since that moment on the stairs eight days ago, but sometimes it felt like he wa nted to. I wasn t sure how to feel about that. Was he having trust issues? Why doe s everyone have trust issues around me? Come on, world. Man up.

By the time seven o clock rolled around, I was starving and mentally exhausted. Also, I had to poop. Just as I was gathering my things, ready to hit the toilet and from there go out side to wait for Kevin, the phone rang. Despite my full bowels (ew. I even gross ed myself out with that one), I answered it because it was Lucas. "Hello?" "Hey," his warm voice came through. "Are you doing anything tonight?" Oh, shitty shit shit. Kevin, you are one hell of a cock-blocker. "Yes," I said, slowly and reluctantly. "I m..." Lie. No, don t lie. Do both. Do neit her. I held the phone away from me and mouthed, Fuck! before returning back to t he conversation. "I m hanging out with Kevin," I admitted, scrunching my face up a nd biting my lip in anxiety. There was a pause. Pauses are never good. "Oh," he said at last. I could hear the dejection in his voice and maybe something else. Jealousy? Resentment? "What are you doing?" At least by asking him I was taking the pressure off of my self. "Um... laundry?" Guilt, guilt, guilt. The thing was, before Kevin, I used to spend my weekend nig hts doing laundry. I d sit in the laundry room reading while my clothes were in th e drier. Oh, Lucas, we re more alike than you ll ever know. "Can I call you later?" I asked gently. "I have to go." Number two. Very badly. I was now doing my I have to poop dance in the middle of the room. I was lucky Mol ly had a life and thus wasn t around to witness my embarrassing antics. "Sure." Oh, Lucas, don t sound so sad. How can I tell him I want to have his blond e, intellectual babies, not Kevin s weirdo curly-haired ones? "Maybe I ll leave you some voicemails," he said at last, "with lots of interesting laundry stories to tell." I smiled. "I would like that." We hung up, though I felt bad for leaving Lucas to do laundry on his own. I woul d love to have a laundry party with Lucas. I grabbed my purse and keys before sp rinting toward the bathroom at full speed. And what do you know. Just as I settled down to do my business, Kevin called. "Hey, I m here." "Hey, I m not." "You re in your room?" I almost laughed to myself, wondering what would happen if I told him I was curr ently in the third stall of the fifth floor bathroom, pooping my insides out.

"Yes. I m almost ready." Oh, no I wasn t. This was one of those poops. "Hey, what floor do you live on?" "Why?" I asked suspiciously. "Someone let me in," he squealed. Okay, so he didn t squeal. But he sounded so dam n excited to be let into my building that he may as well have. "Someone held the door open for me and now I m in. I ve never been in here before. I wanna see your r oom." "Kevin," I sighed, reaching for the toilet paper dispenser, "don t oh, shit. Fuck." "Karen?" No toilet paper. There was no toilet paper. Would I really...? There was no way I could come back from this... All it took w as another glance at the empty toilet paper dispenser before I d made up my mind. "Fifth floor," I said hastily. "I m on the fifth floor. Get up here." "I am in the elevator and pressing five," he responded happily. There was silenc e on both of our ends I didn t know what he was doing but I was trying to think of t he fastest way to kill myself to avoid resorting to subjecting both Kevin and my self to this humiliation. "What s your room number?" he asked. I laughed ironically. "Not relevant. Uh, turn right and go to the bathroom." Pause. "What?" I rolled my eyes. This was humiliating enough as it was. "Just do it." "Are you in the bathroom?" he asked, sounding shocked. Well, no disgust yet. "I can t go in there." "It s unisex, Kevin." I heard the bathroom door open. "Karen?" I sighed and hung up the phone. "There s no toilet paper," I whined pathetically. Kevin started to laugh. And he didn t stop laughing for what felt like an eternity . "I m glad you find my situation so hilarious." I held my head in my hands, wishing myself to die, right there on the toilet. Like Elvis. I wouldn t mind dying like Elvis. "I m sorry," he choked out through laughter. "I m getting toilet paper now." I watch ed his black boots through the gap between the stall door and the floor. He walk ed into the stall next to me and I heard him fumbling with something. "O okay. I h ave it. How do I go about...?" "Oh." The gap was too small for him to pass it under the door. "Try throwing it? " "Okay. Are you ready?" "Yes."

The next thing I knew, a white blur went sailing right over my stall and landed with a thud somewhere. "You throw like a girl." "Nice." I watched his boots clickety-clack across the bathroom tile. "And you dress like one, too." "Great, insult the person who has the toilet paper." When I shut up, he said, th is time from the stall to my right, "Okay, I m going to try throwing it again." "Wait, the same roll? The roll that s been sitting on the filthy, grimy, disgustin g STD-ridden bathroom floor?" "Well " "Get a new one," I demanded crankily. "Alright, alright." More fumbling. "Okay. I m going to gently toss it into your st all. Here we go." The sacred roll dropped gently into my hands. Never in my life had I been so hap py to see a roll of one-ply toilet paper. "I guess I ll just wait." I think he hopped onto the counter of sinks or something because I couldn t see his boots anymore. I didn t care either way because I was wi ping. And wiping. Once or twice the bathroom door opened. A couple of people used the stalls, flus hed, washed their hands, and left without a word to Kevin Jonas, sitting there o n the sink in his crazy black boots. Soon I ignored the sounds of the door openi ng and closing when I realized it really didn t matter who came in. "What s taking so long?" he sighed in exasperation. I tried to think of the best way to word it without being absolutely repulsive. Then I realized that, when discussing fecal matter, there is no polite way to de scribe it. "It s... it s a messy poop," I admitted. Kevin groaned, "Gross." "You asked," I laughed. "Karen?" Holy shit. I froze, folded toilet paper in hand. "Lucas?" "Uh..." Yep, it was definitely Lucas. "Kevin?" "Elevator Boy?" Kevin responded. I bit my lip in concern. Kevin always called hi m Elevator Boy because by the time I learned his name was Lucas and began referr ing to him as such, Kevin was too set in his ways. I hoped Lucas didn t think I d ju st been calling him that. There was so much Lucas didn t know about how much he me ant to me like the fight I had with Kevin because I so badly wanted to be with Luc as. "What s going on?" Lucas asked, sounding overwhelmed with confusion.

I stayed in my stall, still wiping, for once glad to be in the stall so I could sort of avoid everything. No one spoke. As the link between them, I figured I sh ould speak up. "Hey, Lucas. What are you doing on the fifth floor?" "Laundry," he said pointedly. Oh. In this building the odd floors have laundry r ooms and the even floors have study lounges. "What are you doing here?" "Just... getting something out of the way before my thing with Kevin," I stated meekly. "And..." Oh, Lucas, I m so sorry that you re so confused. "Where are you guys going again?" "Dinner," Kevin said. "Uh... not a date, though." "Nope," I interjected. Note that I was still, after all this time, wiping. And o ne-ply toilet paper? Not so pleasant, especially after doing it for so long. Tha t s what she said? Nah. I always think of the lamest that s what she said jokes and they never really fit right. (Is that what she said?) I m awful at making dirty jo kes. Doesn t stop me from trying, though. "Then why are you all dressed... like that?" Come on, Kevin. I m counting on you. "Oh, this is the way I always dress," Kevin chuckled casually. "I m weird." Well, that much was true. I couldn t see what he was wearing, save for those damn black boots, but it was true; he did dress like that a lot. Except when he was just ha nging out with his family, from what I ve seen. God, I should not know that. I sho uldn t know that. We re just supposed to be casual acquaintances who do shit in publ ic. Hadn t I referred to him earlier as something of a brother to me? That was nev er part of the deal. None of this was. I don t think either of us knew what we wer e doing. It was like we were just making up rules as we went along. I d finished wiping by now but I continued to sit there on the toilet, scared and confused. "You ve seen some of the crazy stuff me and my brothers have worn, like in magazin es and stuff, right?" Kevin tried, assuming a light-hearted tone. Was he going f or small talk or was he trying to prove a point? It sounded like epic fail eithe r way. This wasn t a good idea. Kevin gets nervous when he tries to prove his inno cence and he ends up making a fool of himself. He doesn t need to prove his innoce nce. One look at that baby face and you just know the guy is fucking pure. "Yeah, I ve seen it," Lucas replied curtly. Oh no. I wonder if he was giving him h is squinty, smoldering look. Oh no. What if a fight was going to break out right now? What followed was about half a minute of one of the most awkward silences I d ever experienced. I don t know why but I chose right then to flush the toilet, figurin g it couldn t hurt. "So, I should get back to the laundry room," Lucas said. Huh. Toilet-flushing actually works. I ll remember that. "I ll call you later," I told him. "Or you call me. I still want to hear your laun dry stories," I called out pathetically.

"It was nice to meet you," Kevin said. "Yeah, you too." Lucas didn t sound quite as sincere. "Bye," he called out, and th en I heard the bathroom door open and close. Silence again. I flushed the toilet again for good measure. Finally I exited the stall. Kevin was now leaning against the sink counter looking uncomfortable. "So that was Elevator Boy." Kevin crossed his arms and watched me wash my hands. "Lucas," I corrected him, reaching for the soap a second time because I felt so unclean. "That was Lucas." "That was awkward!" he replied, his eyes wide as if he had just been through a t errible ordeal. "Yes, it was!" I emphatically agreed, reaching for a paper towel to dry my hands with. "Because I think he thinks there s something more between you and me, and.. ." I trailed off and balled the paper towel up, then threw it into the garbage. "It s getting complicated." "I am not gonna say I told you so, " Kevin said after a while.

"Yeah, that would be wise," I agreed, sighing and leaning against the sink s count er. "I mean, if you like your balls the way they are and everything." "Classy." "Thanks." After a moment s pause we walked out of the room silently, not saying a word to ea ch other. Maybe Kevin knew I didn t want to talk; maybe he was trying to figure ou t how to walk in his dumb boots whatever the reason, there was silence and I was g rateful. Trust Kevin to break it once we got in the car. "Did I... mess something up between you and Elevat I mean, Lucas?" he tentatively asked, glancing at me with a look of concern. I shrugged, leaning my head against the window. "I don t know." "He didn t seem mad," he said confidently, starting the car. "Yeah," I repeated. "He didn t seem mad." Kevin was too busy worrying himself into a corner to notice what I d said. "He has no reason to be mad, though, right? We re friends. You re my friend. Friends eat fo od together sometimes." I picked at my fingernails absent-mindedly. "But it s weird when your friend is a boy. A famous boy. A famous boy who the media says is your boyfriend." The more I thought about it, the more I damned my life. Why did it sound so crazy? "Yeah, but he doesn t know..." "He saw us in a magazine," I said curtly. "He asked me why the article clearly s aid, without speculation, that you and I were dating. I think he s suspicious." I found a hangnail and began pulling at it.

"Shit, Karen, I m sorry," Kevin said quietly. When I only shrugged, he turned to l ook at me once we d reached a stoplight. "What d you say?" "I said we were just friends. Don t worry, your stupid precious secret is safe wit h me. God knows why," I added bitterly. "Because you re a really good friend," Kevin quietly said. I left the hangnail alone and began biting my thumbnail. "Yep. Keeping a secret. .. a secret I don t even know why I m keeping because someone doesn t trust me enough to tell me..." I let my voice trail off in an obvious manner, then slowly turned to him to see if I was having any effect on him. If I was, he didn t show it. Kev in didn t say anything and I figured the conversation was over. After a few minutes, he spoke so softly I almost didn t hear him over the radio: " I would trust you with my life." I nodded slowly, bit gently on my bottom lip, and turned to look out the window. I don t know why him saying that made me shut up but it did.

Sitting at our dinner table, the first thing I did was set my phone on the table . Kevin looked at the phone, then at me, and picked up his menu without saying a word. I did the same. I was glad not to have to explain that I wasn t missing Luc as call for anything or anyone. Fuck manners. Dinner wasn t bad. Kevin and I kept the conversation on light subjects I think our t alk in the car left us both a little emotionally drained and he was right; going o ut to dinner with him did provide a nice break from all of it. I think even a la undry party with Lucas wouldn t have provided me with the same service. With Lucas , we d still be in the dorms, being college students, escaping nothing. Here with Kevin I was away from all of it. I m not saying I prefer Kevin s company over Lucas a nd I m not saying I would rather be with Kevin right now than with Lucas, but bein g with Kevin was nice in a different way than being with Lucas. I couldn t explain it any more than that. Every so often I would glance down at the phone. When Kevin saw me pick it up to check if I had accidentally put it on silent (I hadn t), he said firmly, "He ll cal l." "I know," I replied, setting my phone down. He didn t. Once Kevin had dropped me back off at my dorm, I wandered into the laundry room on my way to my own. Lucas wasn t there. I d sat on my bed for a full ten minutes, debating whether or not I should take th e initiative and just call Lucas. I had said I would, hadn t I? Maybe he was sitti ng on his bed right now, waiting for me to call. We had, after all, both said we would call. It s like that O. Henry story where the woman cuts her hair to buy he r husband a chain for his watch, and the husband sells his watch to buy his wife a comb. Except, you know. Not. Before I could talk myself out of it, I picked up the phone and called him. No answer.

As I listened to his outgoing message I silently debated in my head whether to l eave a message. Would it be desperate? Pathetic? I debated for so long that the phone beeped and, after three seconds of dead silence, I had no choice but to sa y something. "Hey, Lucas," I said slowly, trying to stall as if that would magically give me something to say. Shit, brain, work faster. "Uh, so I was hoping... to hear some of your laundry stories. I just had dinner with Kevin " Great. I m so glad I mentioned Kevin. " I mean, um... yeah. I m back now. And I m down " I m down? Who am I, Snoop Dogg? " for, uh... you know, weekend stuff. I mean, if you are too. Uh... yeah. Bye." Right. I couldn t quite put my finger on it but something was a little... off. Lucas called back the next day, after I d spent the night eating two donuts, worry ing myself shitless, getting teary-eyed, and watching Taylor Swift s music video f or "Love Story" on YouTube (I don t even know). He explained that, after laundry, a few bored floormates of his went and saw a movie together. He then proceeded t o tell me a few of those damn laundry stories (which were, of course, pretty amu sing) but I was only half-listening. As Lucas talked, I wondered, did he care at all about Kevin and me? I didn t want to bring it up, just in case, but it bothered me just the same. But it seemed li ke, after that night, we had returned to our usual ways note how I m acting like we have "usual ways" at all, considering our relationship is less than a month old an d I just sort of ignored the Kevin weirdness. And hoped that he could, too. And together, we did. For a while, anyway. "I know you said you guys were just friends, but..." Sentences that start like that never end well. When does anything that begins wi th someone first reaffirming what was already said as a way to remind you of you r argument as a means of setting up their own way to disprove it, and then proce eds with the most hated conjunction in the English language, ever end well? I looked up from the crappy cup of too-hot tea I d just been blowing on and the cr appy political science article I d just been reading. Lucas, across from me, was u sing his pen to make tiny circles into his novel. (As in, the novel he owns and is reading for an English class. Not one he s written. Though I m sure he will one d ay because he s perfect.) "...I saw a picture online of you guys kissing," Lucas continued, looking up at me and squinting a little. He didn t look angry or accusatory, just... confused. " I m not calling you a liar," he said quickly, "I just... wanna know what s up with t hat." He shut his book and continued to look at me expectantly. Dammit, Kevin. And dammit, Lucas. When we d been on the phone an hour ago expressing our hatred f or all the reading we had to do and then decided that getting together at a coff

ee shop to do our reading would be more fun, I thought that was all we would do. We d both read, drink our caffeinated beverages, maybe have some foot-sex under t he table. Not go bringing up stupid kisses that don t mean anything. You know those Twix commercials where the guy is confronted with an awkward situ ation and then the announcer says, "Need a moment?" and then the guy bites into his Twix, thinks it over as he chews, and then smoothly handles the situation? Yeah, it doesn t work with tea. "Ow, I burned my tongue," I mumbled (truthfully, this time) to no one in particu lar, setting down the steaming cup of tea. "Um," I said, realizing Lucas was sti ll waiting for an answer. I wish I had a Twix right now. "That was from the nigh t we first met," I began. "We went for tacos and then he randomly pecked me on t he lips that s it. Do you have the picture?" I d seen the picture before. I figured I could point out indicators that the kiss was unexpected, like the fact that my h ands were nowhere near him and I didn t appear to be doing any sort of reciprocati on. I am going to make a fabulous lawyer. Lucas grinned sheepishly, then leaned down and began rooting around hin his back pack. "I did, but I didn t tell you because I didn t want you think I was a creepy s talker," he admitted. I had to smile at that, even though it felt like my heart was pounding in my thr oat. "Here," he said, pulling a piece of paper out of a notebook. He set it in front of me on the table, adding, "Free color printing in the computer lab. I couldn t r esist." And there it was, the picture I d seen probably four times. I stood, almost but no t quite leaning against the car, one hand holding a large brown paper bag of bur ritos and the other hanging limply at my side. And Kevin, directly in front of m e, hands at his sides, his neck bent down to kiss me. "I don t know why he kissed me," I shrugged. "It was really awkward, actually. See how far apart we re standing?" Lucas nodded thoughtfully, looking at the picture. "He likes you, then." I almost laughed. "He doesn t like me." "He kissed you," he pointed out, smiling and raising an eyebrow. I rolled my eyes. I couldn t even begin to explain the relationship Kevin and I ha d and it would probably complicate things between Lucas and I if I did. No one see med to get it except us. "He kisses everybody," I shrugged. "He didn t kiss me." "You re taken." Laughing, Lucas rested an elbow on the table. "I guess you weren t taken then." I shook my head. He was staring absent-mindedly at something, and I realized he d been looking at t he picture when he said, "Hey, I ve seen you in that dress before."

"The night you met me," I confirmed, elated that he remembered. "I know." He looked up at me and we engaged in several hot seconds of eye-sex. B am chicka bow wow. Reaching for my tea, I asked, "Weekend plans?" I blew on it about five times, no t trusting it after it had just wronged me. Lucas shrugged. "I don t know. I don t think I m doing anything. What about you? Date with your boyfriend?" I almost laughed. "Kevin is not my boyfriend." I took a sip of the no longer sca thing hot tea and then set it down. "Lots of reading," I sighed. "This," I said, holding up my political science book, "is only one-fifth of it. And I have a pa per due next Friday, and... I hate my life." He gave me a sympathetic half-smile and we returned to our reading. Unable to focus, I looked back at g something in the margins. There ng homework because we re college , the nerdy and responsible ones, friend, we wouldn t be able to do d. He understood. Lucas, who was immersed in his book, scribblin was something nice about just hanging out, doi students and that s what college students do (well anyway). I think if Kevin were actually my boy any of this normal stuff. Lucas was from my worl

I continued reading, grinning a little when I felt his foot graze mine. Yes, foo t-sex! Now that s what I m talkin about. By six o clock I was ready to die. I was starving and hadn t eaten since my coffee shop/reading session with Lucas, b ut I had told myself I wouldn t take another break until I finished my political s cience reading reading I should have done a week ago. But there were so many distr actions. Everywhere. I don t like studying on campus when it gets dark on weekends because then it s cree py as hell to walk back to your dorm. I d done it a few times last semester during finals week and I spent the entire walk holding my room key firmly in my hands, like I d be able to key someone to death or something. So my options were significantly limited to my room and study lounges within the building. Sitting in the sixth floor study lounge, just as I had sat down to read, two gir ls came in, sat at a table, and began speaking rapidly in Korean. And every few seconds they kept giggling. I looked up to glare at them but they were completel y oblivious. So I went to my room, where Molly and her "friend" who, by the way, she s totally fu cking in secret were sitting on her bed watching something on her computer. Do you know how awkward it is to sit in a room with a pair of secret lovahs, and you k now about it but they don t know that you know so you have to pretend you don t know ? Every few seconds I kept expecting them to start making out. I swear a few tim es she put her hand on his thigh. Eventually I grabbed my books and headed up to the eighth floor study lounge, cursing the name of whoever decided only every o ther floor gets study lounges. And Lucas was there. Duh, I guess. It was his floor. But seriously?

It s no secret that I am hot for that English major, but I had to admit I wasn t exa ctly thrilled to see him. I needed to hardcore study, not get wet thinking about him being in the room with me. "Don t take this personally," I said before he could greet me, walking past him an d slamming my books down at the table on the other side of the room. "I need to read." "On a Friday?" I looked at him, dreading that I d have to defend my seemingly overzealous studiou sness. "Well " "That s hardcore," he said, nodding in approval. "I understand." He smiled and I m elted inside. He returned to his laptop as I thought once more about how wonderf ul it was for someone to understand. No one ever understands. And then, as I opened my book, he ruined it. "Barney is crazy if he thinks this is gonna work." "I think it s gonna work." I glanced up. "What s that?" "Huh? Oh, I m getting caught up on this TV show. I ve missed a lot of episodes." I have been known to zone out for hours on my computer, watching TV shows online , so I couldn t judge him for that. It s just another sign of how we re fucking meant to be. But I use headphones. Then again, it s Lucas. The love of my life. Or, the future love of my life, seein g as I don t love him yet. Oh, but I will. I m going to love him like there s no tomor row. Oh yeah. I tried to ignore the sounds coming from his computer but they kept floating int o my ears like little... soundbyte demons of comedy. "I hope it doesn t work." "Shh here he comes." Dammit, now I was invested. What wasn t going to work? What was going on? Why coul dn t I focus on the stupid fucking eras of American political parties like a good lass? I looked back up at Lucas. "What s going on in your room?" He paused it. "My roommate needed some alone time. " Smirking, he added, "But he do esn t have a girlfriend, so I don t know what s going on in there and that scares me." I laughed, then nodded and returned to my reading. Unfortunately, he returned to his show.

"You there! What s your name?" "Excuse me?" "Your name, woman, what s your name?" I closed my eyes and bit my tongue (which was still burned, so ow). "No headphon es?" I asked, trying to sound cool, casual, calm, and collected, and a bunch of other c-words. But I was probably coming off sounding like another certain c-wor d. Pause. "Oh," Lucas said, looking at me. "No, they re broken..." He started to look uncomfortable as he realized what was going on. "Um, I can go out into the hall if you re trying to read..." I briefly considered it but then remembered it would be kind of wrong to kick my boyfriend out of the shared study lounge the one on his floor, no less. The one h e had been in first. "No, it s fine." I forced a smile and looked back down at my book. "I ll turn the volume down," he added, and unpaused. I still heard it. It may have even been worse this time because I think my ears were subconsciously straining to hear it. "Cindy." "I knew it! You re the Cindy! The one who can change everything or spell our inevita ble doom. Now listen to me, Cindy. I am Barney Stinson, and I am on an urgent mi ssion from the future." No, I wasn t going to listen to it. I would just tune it out. Here we go, politics . As we saw in Figure 11-2 (page 527), party-line voting in presidential elections "The future?" "The future! And I can prove it to you: in exactly four seconds, the woman at th at booth is going to slap that man. Ahem." As we saw in Figure 11-2 (page 527), party-line voting in presidential elections declined between the 1950s and the 1970s. The same was true of "Ow! What the hell?" "In a few minutes, the young me from your time is going to come through that door. N ow, Cindy, I know this sounds insane, but in order to save the planet... you nee d to sleep with him tonight." Fuck it. I shut my book and stood up. Lucas paused it. "I really don t have to watch this r ight now," he said apologetically. "No," I said just as apologetically, because it wasn t his fault. I blame Molly. F or everything. "I m just going to get a drink of water. Watch my stuff?" I asked,

gesturing to the backpack and stack of books on the table. He nodded and I grabb ed my cell phone and stepped into the hallway. I sat on the floor in the hallway and called Rachel. After several rings, she fi nally picked up. "Hello?" she answered in a somewhat hushed tone. "Rachel? amazing ing. She sco with Are you by any chance in your apartment?" It was a long shot, asking my sister if she was home on a Friday night. I don t even know why I was ask was probably busy packing for her stupid adventure to stupid San Franci that stupid producer bitch, whatever her name was.

I didn t know exactly when Rachel was leaving but I knew it was going to be soon. Whenever she talked about it I just tried to drown it out because I didn t want to think about it. I knew I d see her again but I wasn t sure how I would handle being away from her for the next few months. She was my only family here. "No. Ruth and I are just going over some last-minute..." She didn t finish her sen tence. I guess she didn t think I would understand it anyway. Whatever, top secret movie project thing. Whatever. "Are you okay?" she asked. I sighed. "Yeah. I just need a quiet place to study." "Study?" Shit, shouldn t have said that. "Who studies on a Friday night?" Rachel asked. "Go make out with your boyfriend. " "Priorities, Rachel." "Studying over boyfriend? That s pretty fucked-up." "Your mom s pretty fucked-up." "You re so stupid." "That s why I need to study!" I finished in exasperation. When Rachel didn t respond , I sighed, "I ll let you go back to your top secret project thing." "Okay. I ll call you later." I hung up the phone and continued to sit pathetically against the wall, playing with it. Rachel s words kept playing over and over in my head and the more I thoug ht about it, the more I felt like an asshole. I had this great guy in the next r oom. Did I greet him with a kiss and sit down at his table? No, I purposely walk ed to the table farthest away from him. I could have spent at least a little tim e with him. Five minutes. Would five minutes have killed me? But you have to study, the voice in my head told me. Stupid voice. I don t even th ink that s normal, anyway. But I did have to study. I had priorities and yes, when I m on the verge of failin g half my classes, school does come before boyfriends. I didn t have time for a bo yfriend, remember? Hadn t I told Kevin that? What was I doing? I don t know. But before I knew it I was calling Kevin. I don t know what I was expe cting, or why I was calling, but then the phone was ringing and I didn t hang up.

"Hello?" He sounded confused. "Hello." "We... don t have anything planned for tonight. Right?" Of course he s doing something else. It s not like he sits around waiting for me to call when I m not around. This is a fucking Jonas brother we re talking about. "Right," I said meekly. "Uh... what are you doing?" "Nothing." Nothing? Really? It s possible for celebrities to actually do nothing? Bullshit. "Really?" I asked skeptically. "Yeah. What s up?" "Um..." Could I? I knew the toilet paper thing was bad but that was different; i t was just gross. This was... well, this was something else. It was asking somet hing more of him, something more than we had meant for ourselves to be. "Could w e just..." I picked at a piece of lint on my jeans. "I m trying to study, and I... can t... here." I stopped myself from asking what I wanted to ask. It would be to o much. "So do you want to come over?" "Not if it ll inconvenience you," I said quickly. "I know we ve got this arrangement thing going on but if, just for tonight, you let me come over and we re not using each other and you do me this favor like we re friends..." I didn t know where I wa s going with this. "Of course we re friends." He said it so matter-of-fact, like it was silly for me not to think otherwise. So we were friends, then, Kevin and I. No longer were we just using each other. We were friends. "I could just sit in the basement, in the corner. I won t even use light; I can br ing a flashlight..." He ignored my craziness. "Do you want me to come pick you up?" "But you re already at home," I protested meekly, feeling bad enough as it was. "Stop acting like you re a nuisance. I m leaving now." He hung up then, and all I co uld do was smile at my phone. I don t know why I had been so hesitant to consider that Kevin and I were friends. I guess I d always seen it more as... business part ners. But friends, that was... real. I walked slowly back into the study lounge, then began gathering up my things, p utting them in my backpack. Lucas noticed, paused, and watched me with a confuse d expression. "Are you leaving because of me? I really can just do something else; it s no big d eal..." "No," I assured him, smiling gently. "I m just going..." To Kevin s. Yes, tell him y ou re going to Kevin Jonas house on a Friday night. The guy who your boyfriend thin ks likes you because of a stupid, out-of-context kiss. Go ahead, tell him.

"My sister s," I finished. "She s making me dinner while I study. Ravioli. But I thi nk it s from a can," I rambled. Whenever I lie I feel the need to throw in a lot o f other lies with it, like adding random details will somehow make it fact. Lucas nodded in consideration. "Hey, good luck with your reading. I know I wasn t much help." I zipped up my backpack and slung it over one shoulder. "You are perfect," I tol d him. I almost left, then remembered he was my boyfriend, so I walked over and we shared a slightly awkward kiss only because of the fact that he was sitting dow n and I was bending over and holding a textbook. Why was I so weird at this whol e girlfriend thing? I had been great with Zac in high school. But this wasn t high school. Still, despite the awkward position, it was nice and I wished I could just forge t about school and stay there with Lucas. "Hey," I murmured, "maybe tonight I ll g et all my reading done and then tomorrow we can conquer the world." "And maybe pigs will fly?" I smiled. He s a realist. Somehow I like him even more. "Maybe," I said quietly. I gave him another quick kiss good-bye and left. I waited for Kevin outside. I knew it would be a while before he arrived but I d idn t want to go back in my room with Molly and her secret boyfriend. I didn t want to sit in the study room with Lucas and make him feel like he was inconveniencin g me which he was doing, but it wasn t his fault. So I waited outside. I did some reading sitting under the lights. I don t know how long I sat there, bu t eventually Kevin called. I could see his car pulling up the curb from where I was, so I ignored the phone call and walked over to his car, opening the door. "Hey." He looked surprised that I was already there. Setting down the phone he h ad been holding, he asked, "You ready to get your nerd on?" I laughed. "Yes, sir. Drive away." "I don t get it. Don t you have like a billion libraries on campus?" Kevin listened patiently as I explained the dangers of walking back from librari es late on a weekend night, when even less people were on campus. The different thing about befriending someone who s not a fellow student is that they often don t understand what it s like. Kevin didn t understand, not at first, but he was willing to learn. I appreciated that about him. And I liked that he wasn t judging me for doing this on a Friday night. When we ning on ened my Sloppy reached a stoplight, Kevin leaned over my seat and pressed a button, tur a light above me. I smiled at him because well, because he understood and op book. Joes.

Those were my first words upon entering the Jonas household for the second time ever. I couldn t help it--the aroma of ground beef and the tangy but sweet onion k etchupy sauce instantly hit my nostrils as soon as Kevin opened the door. I prob ably sounded retarded, especially because I said it so loudly.

Huh?

I heard a voice call out as Kevin and I stepped into the empty living room. Are you hungry? I

Kevin laughed, ignoring the voice.

I breathed in deeply, closing my eyes. Even if I wasn t hungry, I d still be hungry, murmured dreamily. I was not ashamed of my foodlust (for the most part). It had been years since I d had Sloppy Joes. They certainly didn t have them at my dining hall, and do you really think my mother would consider that to be a meal? I just ate... but I could probably eat again, he said. ll. It was a long drive, after a

A very long drive, I repeated, dazedly following him into the kitchen. Despite the strong aroma, the kitchen was dark and empty--no signs of food whatsoever. I wa tched as Kevin opened the fridge and pulled out a large bowl covered with plasti c wrap, setting it on the counter, and then taking out a plate of buns, also cov ered, and a covered bowl of salad--but that s not important. I reached for the big bowl of Sloppy Joe goodness. It was still warm, and little foggy condensation beads were forming on the underside of the plastic wrap. Sweet, we don t even have to microwave it, Kevin said, taking the buns and salad to the table, cocking his head for me to follow him. Unless-- He turned around to fin d me dipping my finger into the sauce. Unsanitary, I know, but if no one sees yo u it doesn t count. I am gonna pretend I didn t see that, he said, turning back around . Good man, Kevin. Once I brought the bowl of orgasmic sauce to the table and Kevin got out plates, we sat down at the table together. For several minutes we sat in silence, focus ing on building and then eating our delicious Sloppy Joes. (The poor salad went untouched.) I have a question, Kevin stated, looking at me over his half-eaten bun. Too involv ed in chewing, I raised my eyebrows at him. Okay, he continued, what s going on with you and Lucas? Why? I replied lightly. Jealous? I justh thaw you wull wa

He rolled his eyes, taking another bite before speaking: n to spen time with yawh rell boyfren.

Unfortunately, since Kevin and I had spent so much time eating together, I knew exactly what he had just said. I chewed slowly and thoughtfully. I do, I said at l ast. But sometimes I just wonder if I even have time for a boyfriend. He set down his bun and reached for a napkin to wipe the sauce off his hands. You told me you didn t. I sighed, refusing the napkin he offered me because I wasn t yet finished eating a nd I think cleaning yourself up while still in the process of eating takes you o ut of the groove. I don t. I guess I just thought that if I liked him enough, then I d make time. Over my bun I could see Kevin s questioning eyes staring back at me. do like him enough, I clarified. But I can t make time. That s impossible. Kevin looked down, picking at his Sloppy Joe. So what are you going to do? I don t know! I took another bite of that deliciousness and sighed once more. We can t

break up, I said, more to myself than to him. I like him. We re good together. And w e haven t even gotten to the good stuff yet. When I saw him eye me with a confused expression, I gave the universal thrusting sign for sex. I don t know how I manage d to do it sitting down. I m just that good. Kevin didn t seem to think so, judging by the way he rolled his eyes and shook his head. Sorry, I guess you re too pure for that sort of talk. I grinned for the first time s ince we d been talking. I never should have let you meet my grandma, he sighed ruefully.

I shrugged and finished off the last of my food. During the silence that followe d, I watched Kevin sit there boredly, picking at his bun and then moving on to n eatly arrange the napkins next to him. Eventually I guess he realized I was watc hing him and I voiced the inquiry that had been on my mind. What s going on with you? He gave me a questioning glance. What do you mean?

I mean... you never tell me about your life. We talk about me, we talk about food , we talk about random shit, but you never tell me about what s going on with you. Nothing s going on with me, Kevin scoffed.

Why don t you tell me things? I pressed. There s nothing to tell, he insisted. He didn t sound irritated but I could tell he wa s. He thinks if he says everything nicely then people will just believe he s perfe ctly fine, but I m on to him. Really? There s nothing to tell? Yes! Just then, though, Joe walked in. I shut up and no one said a word as Joe saunte red to the cupboard, grabbed a plate, and then stood between us at the table, ma king a Sloppy Joe for himself. I m not interrupting, am I? he asked all-too-innocently, signifying that he knew per fectly well he had just disrupted our conversation. And that he didn t care. Nope, Kevin replied in that fake, happy manner of his. I rolled my eyes. As Joe seemed to bask in the uncomfortable silence that followed, I observed tha t he was wearing pajama pants. I didn t even know he owned pajama pants--or, at le ast any sort of pants that didn t constrict his genitalia and put him at risk for sterility. But there they were, in all their plaid, dark green glory. What are you guys doing tonight? Nothing, Kevin said. Joe asked. I repeated skeptically.

Studying, I said at the same time. He nodded thoughtfully but didn t respond he just kept spooning sauce onto his bun . I noticed he didn t flip it into a burger like Kevin and I--and the rest of the fucking world--do; instead, he spooned some sauce on one half and then some more

on the next. An open-faced Sloppy Joe. And then he reached for the salad. Oh, J oe. You re so weird. What about you? asked Kevin. He stood up, picking up his plate. He made a move to take mine but I held on to it. I hadn t touched my food in a few minutes but I sti ll wasn t quite finished. Anyway, mine. Joe shrugged. Nothing, he sighed. I asked d

So it s 8:30 on a Friday night and the Jonas Brothers are sitting at home? ryly. No, Joe said indignantly, if only to prove me wrong. I clarified.

Nick s out, he added quietly.

So then the underage one is out,

What about the other one? I tried to suppress my grin but cou At least I don t have sauce all o

Frankie, Joe stressed, is, uh... at a sleepover. ldn t help myself. Joe made a face at me in return. ver my hands.

What a burn. Yes, I did indeed have sauce on my hands from eating my Sloppy Joe like a hamburger the way normal people eat it. Reaching for a napkin, I said, At least I eat my Sloppy Joe like a normal person. I nodded in the direction of the open faced buns on his plate as I wiped the sauce off my hands. (In any other si tuation I would have just licked them, but I m keeping it classy. I know there are times when it can be cute to lick your fingers but I don t think the same goes fo r licking the palm of your hand.) Joe scoffed. If you think I eat mine weird... From washing his plate at the sink, Kevin laughed. ts his. You should see the way Nick ea

They finish each other s sentences? How fucking adorable. I shrugged, looking unamusedly back and forth between the both of them as they b oth laughed. How? Knife and fork. Joe grinned, picking up one half of his bun and taking a bite. He was still just standing there at the table. I thought he would either leave with his food or, by the way he was lingering, sit down and join us. Maybe he read t hat eating while sitting down makes the food go straight to your hips. God, I lo ve making fun of Joe in my head. Wow. I could sort of see it, though. There was something very tidy about Nick. Wel l, not about his hair by the looks of it. I like how I m making observations on Ni ck s personality based on the one and a half conversations I ve had with him. He used to eat pizza that way, too, mal. Kevin laughed, until he figured out it wasn t nor

Well, he s out on a Friday night, which is more than I can say for you two. Oh. Bur n. For it to be a burn, somebody else has to say burn, Joe said. Otherwise it s just sad. hile I was thinking up a comeback, Joe turned to Kevin and asked, Hey, do you wan t to play something? Since she ll be studying and all? Two-thirds of the Jonas Brothers playing video games on a Saturday night. Now th at s kind of amusing. Especially considering the other third is probably out getti

ng laid. Well, whatever the pure equivalent of sex is. Drying his hands on his pants, Kevin nodded. don t know. Watch. While you study. Yeah. Karen, you could come and... I

How tempting. Too distracting. I need silence. Can I study in your room or someth ing? While Joe continued to stand there at the table while eating like a crazy person , Kevin led me upstairs to his room. There s a desk there, he said, as if I couldn t notice, and then he took off his pants . I m not kidding. He points to his desk and then he takes off his pants, like the re s some kind of correlation. Are we stripping now? I watched as Kevin struggled out of his skinny jeans. It was pretty funny. I nev er actually thought about the work it would take them to get in and out of their tight jeans. Kevin rolled his eyes and walked a few feet across the room, pulling a pair of d ark blue pajama bottoms out of a drawer. Your legs are sexy, I commented dryly.

I know, he replied just as sarcastically, stepping into the pajama pants and stand ing straight again. That s why I... never mind. You just tried to Joe and you failed. Burn. You really suck at this whole burn concept.

Oh, go play your stupid video game, I sighed. Kevin laughed and left the room, clo sing the door behind him. I cleared some of the stuff off his desk a few noteboo ks, some pieces of scratch paper, a couple of guitar picks, and some other odds and ends and set my books on top. Finally, opening my political science textbook , I began to read. _____________________________________________________________________________ Three hours. I was pretty damn impressed with myself. The only time I can ever go three hours straight while doing academics-related things is when I m in the library, and eve n then I always have to make myself go to the farthest corner of the lowest floo r so my laziness will hinder me from leaving prematurely. In those three hours, I had done all of this week s reading for all of my classes. Granted, by this week s I really do mean this week, which I ve reached the end of b ecause it s Friday, so come Monday I ll have to start all over again. But I had been behind for a while now and for the entire weekend I could say I was on top of t hings. Go Karen. I still had a paper due Tuesday, a problem set for astronomy due Wednesday that I hadn t touched, and I hadn t yet begun studying for my political science quiz Mond ay, but screw all that. I leaned back in Kevin s lame wooden chair (I expected him to have a badass swivel chair or something. That s the kind of chair I d get if I were rich), drumming my f

ingers absent-mindedly on the desk s edge. I did that for about six minutes. Sad, I know. Eventually it occurred to me to get off my ass--my uncomfortable ass, might I ad d. Stupid wooden chair--and see what my fake boyfriend was up to. I found Kevin and Joe sitting on a sort. I m horrible at recognizing is too technological for me. They he door, so I slowly came in sight n a beanbag chair near them. couch in the rec room, playing a game of some current video games. Anything after Nintendo 64 didn t seem to notice the sound of me opening t of their peripheral line of view by sitting i

You finished? Kevin asked, not looking away from the screen. Yep, I sighed happily. He didn t need to know about the other homework stuff. I look ed at the screen and tried to understand what was going on. The screen was split and there were guys with guns running around. I ll get off soon, he said reluctantly after about a five-minute pause. Right, video games don t affect reflex skills at all. On the screen a guy killed another guy. Joe groaned. No, it s fine, I assured him, watching as a guy did a fancy jump. my brain off. This is perfect. I just want to turn

It really was. For a while I just watched the game and eventually began to get a sense of what was going on, with the kind help of Joe and Kevin well, not kind so much as they yelled at me indignantly whenever I commented on something and w as wrong about it. But, from what I could tell, Joe s guys were out to get Kevin s g uys. And vice-versa. It was actually kind of nice. I just sat there and watched, and they played, and they d make snide remarks at each other and I d say something about it and they would correct me. It was fun. That is, until Kevin s phone rang. Don t pause, don t pause, Joe demanded as Kevin tried to search through the couch pill ows for his phone while keeping one eye on the game. Joe sighed in frustration a nd, still playing, felt around on the couch before handing Kevin the ringing pho ne. His eyes flickered down at the cell phone screen for the smallest fraction o f a second and he frowned slightly before he looked back at the screen. It s... Kevin grabbed it, then threw the controller at me. What? he asked, seeing my face of surprise. Joe won t let me pause. Don t kill me! Then, opening his phone, he said, ello? I turned to the screen, controller in hand. Shit, Joe s guy had a gun on me. Run. No, fool, don t look at the sky, run. That s for the camera, ls motion. Joe informed me through stifled laughter. The other one contro H

Cameras. Why are there different camera angles in video games? Fucking technolog y. No, um, I m not doing anything... Out of the corner of my eye I could see Kevin paci ng back and forth behind the couch. My guy--Kevin s guy--was taking his first steps under my control when the screen f lashed red blood. You shot me!

It had to be done, Joe assured me solemnly. He looked at me and grinned, then glan ced behind him toward Kevin, eyeing him curiously. Uh, yeah... I could... Kevin looked uncomfortable with Joe watching. e. He hung up the phone. Yeah. Okay. By

I turned back to the game, shocked to see that Kevin s guy, who Joe had just kille d, had somehow reincarnated. What? He got a do-over in life? I waited for Joe or K evin to correct me but they didn t. What was that about? Joe asked Kevin.

Fine, ignore me. I took the opportunity to try to shoot Joe s guy but I ended up j umping in the air. Nothing. Hey, he said after a moment, I think I m gonna go to the Guitar Center.

My guy stopped jumping as I turned to look at him. Right now? I asked pitifully. I wasn t sure if he meant to drop me off on the way there, since I d been here for a while. I kind of didn t want to leave. Really? Joe asked, fixating his eyes on Kevin. It was hard to tell what Joe was th inking, or why he was acting so strange, but he didn t sound surprised. He sounded like Rachel does when I tell her I m going to study on a Friday night--a cross be tween judgement and disapproval. I tried shooting Joe again. My guy just kept jumping, no matter what buttons I s eemed to press. Yeah, Kevin shrugged nonchalantly. Really. He and Joe had a stare-down for a few sec onds, and then Kevin broke it off, averting his eyes as he turned to face me. It s fine, you can stay. I ll be back in a few minutes, he assured me. Soon Kevin was gone and it was just Joe and me, sitting awkwardly in the rec roo m. Joe wasn t touching his controller, and I was sick of my guy practicing to be t he next fucking Double Dutch champion, so I set the controller down. What? I asked Joe. I hoped we d reached that stage in our pseudo-acquaintanceship wh ere I could ask what he was thinking. You don t think he s going to the Guitar Center ? I pressed. Maybe Joe would give me a few hints about Kevin s mysteriousness. No, I think he s going, he replied, still looking at... I don t know. Nothing, really.

Then... I trailed off, waiting for him to fill in the big picture. Was Joe jealous that Kevin played the guitar while all Joe got to do was bang a silly little ta mbourine? I d believe that. Joe shrugged. Where are you? screen. he asked with a small laugh, raising his eyes to the

I frowned. I didn t see anything weird. There was Joe s guy on the left side, and my guy on the right. Except my guy was cloaked in darkness somehow. What? He reached for the controller and did some magic. Okay. He heaved a big sigh and s lid off the couch so he was sitting against it on the floor, level with me. It s ti me we taught you about the camera angles. No! I protested. There shouldn t be any crazy camera angles. It should just be one sc reen and then you re done. I miss Nintendo 64. I sighed and picked at the material on the bean bag chair. This was weird. Even though I was trying to have a conver

sation with Joe, and it was sort of working, it was still weird. Kevin was our b uffer, and without him Joe and I couldn t really function normally. Like with the First Triumvirate--after Crassus died, Caesar and Pompey didn t have their buffer anymore and they started fighting. I d probably come up with a more recent example if I hadn t just done my Classics reading, but hey, Rome works too. If Kevin s Cras sus then Joe s Pompey because he dies next. Fuck yes I want to be Caesar. Joe fiddled with both controllers (that sounds vaguely dirty) as he said, Nintend o 64 had camera angles. What, you want old school Super Nintendo? I looked up. He laughed. Yes, I said emphatically. Really?

You have it? With my eager expression and widened eyes, I probably sounded like a drug dealer s client but I didn t care. It had been over a decade since I d last playe d Super Nintendo. Joe shook his head at me, then sighed and started walking toward the closet. In my excitement I let out a girly squeal. This was probably the highlight of my we ek. If I wasn t so excited I would probably stop to reflect on the patheticness of that last statement. My dad saves things, Joe sighed from somewhere deep in the depths of the closet. A fter a few minutes he emerged, looking dustier and holding a plastic bag. You rea lize this sets you back like seven steps in the video game world, right? He looke d up at me as he pulled out a mass of entangled black cords. There was that look again--judgement and disapproval. Shut up, Joe s face. What games do you have? I reached into the dusty bag and pulled out some controlle rs. Look how sexy and flat they are, I marveled, holding a controller up. And look-four buttons, Start, Select, and one arrow pad. That s the way life should be. He scoffed as he picked up the game system. There are only two controllers. He was holding it up, peering at the two slots for controllers. Lame, he decided, pluggi ng in the controller I gave him. You re lame. Your mom s lame. Sadly I couldn t come up with a comeback, so I busied myself with browsing through the games. I missed these! I exclaimed, holding them up. I peered at the bottom o f the game, seeing the cartridge. Did yours ever get dirty? I always used to clea n mine with Q-tips. That is so what she said, Joe remarked from behind the television where he was plu gging in cords. I laughed absent-mindedly, browsing through the games. We ? I stopped browsing. Shit, was he just setting it up for me to play all by myself ? Who does that? Oh.... Relax, I was kidding. You don t have to play if you want to, I shrugged cooly. Come on, Jonas, take the ba it. You totally have to fucking play or I ll look like a lame-ass. Say you want to Do you care what we play?

play. Say you want to play. Coming back from behind the television, Joe grinned at me. I smiled in relief. He frowned. Donkey Kong? I prompted, holding up my game of choice: Donkey Kong Country. I only wish he had Donkey Kong 2. That game was some serious business. Super Nintendo is so amazing that their sequels are better than the original. Take that, X-box. Wait, that s not right. I think there s another game console that s all the rage now. Oh well. It doesn t matter. I ve stopped caring. Oh! His eyes lit up and he snatched it from me. Shit, I used to love this game. Afte r he blew dust out of the bottom of the cartridge, and blew dust out of the game console itself, he slammed it in and we both let out cheers of excitement when the classic, old-school Donkey Kong logo started up. Who do you want to be? He tos sed me a controller and settled down on the floor against the couch. Diddy, I replied immediately, joining him. I always used to be Diddy. I want to play.

Good. Now, who do you want to be, Donkey or Diddy?

Psh, Donkey s where it s at. But Diddy s cute. We were both focused on the television screen, entranced, as though this was our first time. Except it wasn t. We were born-again virgins. Insert joke about Joe s v irginity here. You chose Diddy because he was cute? I was like six years old. Why d you pick Donkey? ...He wears a tie. We turned to look at each other. I burst out laughing and Joe grinned sheepishly --then the start of the game announced itself and we began playing. Oh, and play we did. I don t know for how long, but we finished the entire game, f rom Congo Jungle to Gangplank Galleon. Granted, we weren t very accurate--we faile d to collect all the bananas, tokens, and balloons because toward the middle of the game we realized it didn t really matter and the important thing was to get to the next level. By the time we d reached the end and beat the boss, that vile Kin g K. Rool, we saw that our accuracy level was abysmal. I forgot that they liked to judge you for how fully you completed the game. I m sure that made me a better kid growing up. Game systems are far too nice to their players these days. No, w ith Super Nintendo you got a fucking percentage and that was all you were worth. That was amazing, I said in awe as the title credits began. Yeah, he said breathily. I turned to him in surprise. You know what we should do next? I thought you didn t have Donkey Kong 2!

I never said that. You assumed and made an ass out of \'u\' and \'me\'. I rolled my eyes, then turned back to the credits. dreamily. And then Donkey Kong 3, I said

Yes. And then Donkey Kong 64. Unless, he said, looking at me, ou.

that s too modern for y

I smiled. No, that s in my range. Donkey Kong 64 was the shit. We sat there contente dly, watching the credits scroll, and then I asked, We don t have to do all that to night, do we? God no, I am way too tired. k. Joe stood up and stretched his arms out behind his bac

I laughed and nodded in agreement. As I slowly returned to the real world, one i n which monkeys were not hunting bananas and balloons so they could fight an evi l crocodile, I realized: Kevin s still not back yet? He stopped mid-stretch as though the thought of Kevin hadn t really occurred to hi m until then. Guess not, he replied curtly. He s kind of my ride. And it s... I looked down at my watch. Almost two in the morning? Just stay

Joe raised his eyebrows in mild surprise and turned the television off. here til he gets back.

It looked like he was getting ready to leave, so I stood up and tentatively foll owed him. Does he do this often? Does my fake boyfriend have a fake fake girlfrien d? Curse Kevin and his mysterious ways. No. He paused in the doorway and looked to see that I was behind him, then turned off the light. We were the only two people downstairs and now it was entirely da rk. My eyes hadn t yet adjusted and I blindly followed Joe as he walked into the l iving room and then headed for the stairs. I bumped into him when he stopped sud denly. Hey, he whispered, turning around. My parents wouldn t be crazy about the idea of you being here at two in the morning. What the hell do you say to that? Thanks, I whispered back. I feel welcome now.

No, it s just... be quiet, okay? Okay. He turned around and quietly went up the stairs. I kept blindly following him, u ntil he paused at a door and looked at me. You know where Kevin s room is, right? I nodded. It took me another several seconds to figure out that Joe was implying I go to Kevin s room because I wasn t wanted in his own. Thanks, Joe. As I walked o ff in what I hoped was the general direction of Kevin s room, Joe murmured, Karen. I turned around, wondering if he was going to tell me I was headed into his pare nts room or something. Are we on for Donkey Kong 2 next time? Yes. My eyes had finally adjusted and I saw Joe grin before giving me a wave and head ing into his room, shutting the door behind him. I walked back to Kevin s room fee ling pretty good about life. I think Joe and I were getting to be friends. Time for a new classical Roman analogy. No longer were Joe, Kevin and I Pompey, he whispered.

Crassus and Caesar. Since Kevin was... missing... it was just Joe and I. We coul d be a badass duo like... like... Fine, screw Rome. Joe and I, we were Donkey and Diddy. I was now (almost) friends with two-thirds of the Jonas Brothers. All I needed w as the underage one to seal the deal. As I turned the light on and quietly shut the door behind me, I pondered the best way to get Nick to like me. Maybe I coul d buy him a pizza and then eat it with a knife and fork. Seduce him with his own weird mannerisms, that sort of thing. My eyes fell over the desk I had sat at earlier and I had absolutely no urge to do any sort of reading. I looked opposite the desk and saw his bed, realizing th at sleep was all I really wanted. It looked like a nice bed, too. None of this l ame twin shit I ve got going on in my dorm room, but a queen. After a few minutes of pondering whether or not it would be weird if I was to go to sleep in Kevin s bed, I gave in to my inclination and reached over to turn off the light. If I really wanted to outwear my welcome, I would take my jeans off. However, despite what many may say, I am still a lady, so I crawled into bed, j eans and all. It was definitely weird. Not the bed--that was fucking luxurious--but the situat ion. I was an unwanted (and, except for Joe, unbeknown) guest in the Jonas house hold. What if Kevin never came back and Mrs. Jonas came in to find me sleeping i n his bed? And I bet the sheets would have felt so much nicer against my bare le gs. Damn my ladylikeness. Fucking Kevin. Eventually I fell to sleep, more because it had been a long day than anything to do with me getting over my worries. I woke up to feel a ton of weight exerted on my legs. I groaned and slowly opene d my eyes. It was dark. Someone had just tried to sit on me and now that figure was standing in front of me. Karen? Kevin, I sighed in exasperation. Where were you? What time is it? He sounded incredulous, almost in aw

It s... whoa, it\'s three-thirty-three exactly. e that he had the honor of seeing that time. Where were you? I repeated, yawning.

God, what am I going to do with you? It sounded like he was asking himself, so I l azily let my eyes flutter shut. I heard a sigh and then felt the covers lift up. Move over. Your parents... I did as told, burying my face in a pillow and exhaling deeply. He yanked the comforter from me and got settled

I ll drive you home in the morning. in the bed. It is morning, Mm-hmm.

I replied, taking it back.

His voice sounded muffled. I threatened, pulling the comforter c

Where were you? No blanket until you answer,

loser to me. Kevin sighed. I was at the Guitar Center. I don t believe you. I didn t put up with a fight when he took his share of the blanke t, mostly out of lethargy. My eyes were closed, my face was resting on an amazin gly soft pillow, and I was half-asleep. I really was. I wouldn t know until later that he was telling the truth. I probably should have pressed him for more information--I think I may have been able to get it out of him--but I was already nearly asleep. So I let it go. I let everything go (excep t my jeans, damn it) and gave in to sleep. I m bad at a lot of things. Singing. Socializing. Astronomy, evidently. I think I m especially bad at sleeping, which is really pathetic because this is s omething most people can do in their sleep wait, everybody can. Stupid idioms. The point is, I toss and turn. I can go to sleep in a perfectly made bed and whe n I wake up the sheets are bunched at my feet and my comforter is on the floor. On this particular morning I was damning my sleeping ways because I m pretty sure it was the lack of comforter that woke us up so God damn early. I heard what sounded like a donkey yawning and shifted slightly, pressing my fac e further into the warmth. When half-asleep, I don t think anyone realizes what th ey re doing. They slowly migrate to the warmth, no matter where it is. That s why it took me another few minutes to realize the warmth was Kevin. Eyes closed, I stretched my arm out in front of me, surprised to hit something s olid. The donkey yawn thing happened again. Reluctantly I opened my eyes and fou nd my face pressed against the soft cotton of Kevin s white T-shirt. I breathed in deeply and, once I realized it was there, removed my arm from arou nd Kevin and rubbed my eyes. He yawned, rolling onto his back and stretching. "Shit," Kevin murmured in a scratchy voice, looking at his clock across the room . "It s six-thirty." I groaned as Kevin got up. "Come on." He shook my leg and whe n I realized he wasn t going anywhere I grudgingly sat up. I watched dumbly as he stood in his white shirt and dark blue boxers, rummaging through his chest of dr awers. "Are those track pants?" I asked as he began to pull a pair of pants on. Kevin nodded. "I didn t know you owned any." I d only thought of him as a strictly skinny-jeans pe rson. When I saw his pajama pants last night that blew my fucking mind, but I ac cepted it because everybody has pajamas. But track pants are different. I don t kn ow who would wear them. I mean, these were the swishy kind made out of waterproo f material. Really, who would wear those? Athletes who are so fucking hardcore a nd dedicated that they go running underwater? I guess they re sort of comfortable but you know what s more comfortable? Pajamas. S weatpants. The only reason anybody wears swishy track pants with white stripes on the side is when it s laundry day and they re not quite ready to succumb to the sloppy look t hat sweatpants provide. I have nothing against them. I own a pair; I even go to

class in them occasionally. Then again, I m the lazy college student and Kevin is always perfect. "Just cause I don t wear stuff in public..." Kevin stood in front of the mirror, fu ssing with his crazy curls. He reached onto his desk, pumped something into his hand, and quickly rubbed it through his hair. It didn t do much but he shrugged in to the mirror, like Meh. That ll do. Huh. Kevin was secretly a lazy slob like me. I let my feet dangle off od up. Hastily gathering and zipped it up without pid books didn t deserve "Are you ready?" I turned to Kevin. "That s what you re wearing?" He looked sleep in. you. And sleep for down at his outfit the black track pants and the white shirt he d fallen a He was holding a pair of sunglasses in one hand. "What? I m just driving then," he sighed, trying but failing to stifle a large yawn, "I m gonna about a day and a half." the edge of the bed for a moment, and then I slowly sto my books from his desk, I shoved them into my backpack a second thought. Now that I d done my reading, those stu my attention.

I wanted to ask what had caused him to be out so late. I was dying to know. But I knew he wouldn t tell me, not when he was grumpy and had gotten three hours of s leep. I had to be nice to him when he was doing me this favor. But I would not f orget to ask him later. Maybe I d butter him up first, with... butter. Yes, I woul d buy him something delicious and buttery and then, while he was on a food high, I would ask him. Now that I had a plan I was happy to put my backpack on and shrug indifferently. I followed Kevin out into the hall. The entire house was eerily silent and mostl y dark. He decided he needed to use the bathroom first. I waited outside the doo r, hoping that when he flushed the toilet it wouldn t disturb the creepy silent pe ace going on here and wake his parents up. Because apparently that would be bad. Even though he s twenty-one. Leaning against the stairway banister, I almost fell down the stairs in surprise when a door opened. For a moment I thought it was the door to his parents bedroo m but then I realized it was Joe s. (I realized this around the time I saw Joe eme rge.) Shirtless. I know I ve got a boyfriend, and I m pretty sure Lucas looks amazing shirtless (in f act, I ve spent way too much time thinking about exactly what Lucas would look lik e with his shirt off. It s sad that I still don t know), but this is a Jonas brother . A damn good-looking Jonas brother. He was rubbing his eyes and he looked surprised to see me. It was all I could do not to stare at his shirtlessness but I somehow trained myself to look in his e yes. Now I know how guys feel when they re trying not to look at a girl s cleavage. Well, I already kind of knew how that felt. I m not into girls, or cleavage, but w hen girls boobs are popping out of low-cut tops it s like they re screaming, "Look at me!" "Hey," he whispered, still standing in the doorway.

"What are you doing up so early?" "I set my alarm. I was gonna drive you if Kevin didn t get back." Now this piqued my interest. "You think he would have spent the night at the Gui tar Center?" Joe shrugged. Oh, come on, shirtless Joe. If I m not going to look at your chest t hen you ve got to give me a reason to look you in the eye. Divulging information a bout your mysterious brother might help matters some. "Where is Kevin?" Joe asked. "Bathroom," I replied, motioning to the door behind me, where a stream of light coming through the crack underneath was evident. "He would use it when I have to," he sighed, tiredly rubbing the bridge of his n ose. Well, his eyes were closed, so I allowed myself two seconds of gawking befo re I returned my gaze to its respectful position. "So," he said, "last night I d reamed about Donkey Kong." I grinned. "What happened?" "He gave me his tie. And then his head fell off." Seeing my surprise he added, " It was more of a nightmare." I laughed. I was about to say something (I don t know what) when the bathroom door opened and Kevin emerged, looking even more tired than he had before, if possib le. "Should have gone to bed earlier," Kevin mumbled ruefully. "Yeah, you probably should have," Joe shot back. Kevin looked at Joe in genuine surprise and Joe looked away. Oh snap. Something is going down. Joe stepped past me (as in, his shirtlessness was right near my... shirtness) to get to the bathroom. "See ya, Karen," he said, giving me a small smile. He then looked intensely at something past me before closing the door. I turned around and saw Kevin was looking at the bathroom door as if Joe was still there, lookin g at him. "What was that about?" I asked. "Nothing," Kevin shrugged, shaking his head. I waited until we had left the quiet house and gotten into the car before I spok e. "Friends tell each other things, Kevin." "If I was to tell someone, it would probably be you." He was looking straight ah ead, then he turned to look at me. "But Joe " "Joe doesn t know anything." "And neither do I." Kevin sighed. "I think... he thinks... I m cheating on you."

Unsure how to respond to that, I asked, "Well... are you?" "We re not dating," he reminded me as if I could forget. "If we were," I pressed. He was avoiding my eyes. "I..." Sighing, he said, "I don t know. I don t know." He rubbed his eyes, red from lack of sleep, and made no move to put the key in the ignition. He made no move to do anything. It occurred to me that, this entire time, I d only been asking after him for my ow n selfish reasons, because I wanted to know the details. Maybe I should have tho ught about someone other than myself and my problems. I couldn t remember the last time I did anything for Kevin with no benefit to myself. "Kevin, are you okay?" He looked like he was thinking about it. Staring at the keys in his lap, Kevin r eplied, "I m tired." When I was about to suggest that may have had something to do with the fact that he only got three hours of sleep and that was totally curabl e, he added, "Of everything." I swallowed, unsure how to react to that. I didn t want to press him because that s all I d been doing. I waited. "I guess... I realized last night that I m not over her. I never was." He shrugged and turned to me. I had never seen Kevin looking so sad and helpless. In fact, it was the first ti me I d seen him show me any sort of real emotion; I was used to him keeping everyt hing in. It was a little scary. I had no idea what was going on and I didn t know what to do. I waited a few more seconds, just in case he had anything more to say, and when he didn t speak I reached over and hugged him. He leaned into the hug, resting his chin behind my shoulder and holding me tightly. Like he needed me. It was only fitting that, once Kevin dropped me off, I should meet Lucas in the elevator. And that was a shame because I was disgusting and unwashed and looking hideous after getting four hours of sleep. When the door opened he was standing there, wearing gym shorts and a T-shirt. I smiled tiredly when I saw him. He ma de no move to get out; instead he waited for me to step inside and then pressed the button for my floor. "What are you doing up so early?" I asked, though I don t know why I was surprised . Lucas is perfection. Of course he would get up early so he can spend this morn ings perfecting himself even more. He moved closer to me and, placing both hands on my waist, kissed me. "I was abo ut to go for a run," he murmured as I threw my arms around his neck. See, what did I tell you? "Your breath stinks." I opened my eyes and found myself staring into playful blue eyes. I guess he was right. It s not like I got the chance to clean my teeth this morning or last nigh t. Wait, I didn t clean my teeth yesterday morning either, did I? What was my excu se for that? Oh, right, I overslept. Still, ew. I judge myself.

I purposely breathed onto him, laughing when he made a face. The elevator doors opened. We both turned to see that it had arrived at my floor . I reached over and pressed the button for the ground floor. Lucas laughed. "Did you get much reading done last night?" he asked, kissing me again. "I thought my breath smelled." "I can deal with it." "Yes, I did," I answered. "I stayed the night," I added. That was true. I did st ay the night. I just didn t specify where. "I figured. Backpack, same clothes," he mumbled between kisses. "I called you," he said. Shit, my phone. I don t think I took it out of my backpack the entire time I was a t Kevin s. I explained that and added meekly, "Sorry." I felt awful. First I ditch my perfect boyfriend to do reading, and then I don t even have my phone around so I can at least have the decency to take his phone call. "Nah, it s cool," he dismissed. "I knew you d be studying; I don t know why I called." The elevator doors opened again, this time to an empty ground floor. I giggled a s Lucas pressed the button for the eighth floor. We rode the elevator up and dow n for several minutes, happy that it was early on a Saturday morning and the onl y people who were up and about were perfect ones like Lucas and screw-ups like m e. I think it s also worth noting that we got to second base. I m pretty damn proud of our elevator skank factor. I spent that evening at Rachel s apartment, helping her pack for San Francisco she w as leaving Monday morning. At first I couldn t believe she waited until the last s econd to tell me, but she said she herself didn t know until Friday. She had one w eekend to pack. I had one weekend to get used to the idea that she would soon be gone and I d be stuck here, alone. It was a good thing Lucas was busy tonight I thi nk he was doing something with his friends or I would have felt bad. I might have needed to lie to cover up the fact that my first lie was a lie, since it hadn t tu rned into the truth until one day later. "What else do I need?" Rachel asked me. We were standing in her living room, sta ring at two half-filled suitcases. "Hey, where s your red LAFS hoodie?" I asked. Rachel nodded and retreated into her room. I stayed, opening the half-eaten box of pizza and picking at the crust of an uneaten slice. Mmm, crust. I love crust. I don t think it deserves to be called crust because crust is such an ugly word. It makes me think of people s neglected toes. "So what did you do last night?" Rachel asked from in her room. "Make out with y our hot boyfriend?" I rolled my eyes. "No." "Make out with Lucas?" "Oh, you re so funny." Kira emerged, holding the hoodie in hand. "This one? I don t really wear it that " I

t was her turn to pout when I grabbed it away from her. "Hey, it s mine." I held the crust in my mouth (like a dog) as I slipped ie on. "You don t really wear it that much, remember?" crust out of my mouth. This hoodie? The absolute shit. it s made out of but it can t be cotton because cotton rm clouds gently hugging you. Not that I know what the . But I figure this hoodie is the closest thing to it. the warm, comforting hood I taunted once I d taken the I don t know what material doesn t feel like a thousand wa latter feels like, either

"Oh! Last night!" I exclaimed, partly to get the focus off (my) hoodie. "Joe and I played Donkey Kong!" She stared at me blankly. "Who s Joe?" Finishing off the last of the pizza crust, I rolled my eyes. "Jonas." "The one with the..." Taking her own caramel-brown hair in one hand, she formed a straightening iron with two fingers from her other hand and pretended to strai ghten the strands. When I nodded, she said, "But I thought you went there to stu dy." I chose to ignore the way she said that last word. "I did. For three hours. And then, Donkey Kong," I repeated, trying to get her t o remember the fucking awesomeness that was DK. She should know; she played it w ith me all those times growing up. "On Super Nintendo?" Now why would she say that in the same way she said "Yes," I said impatiently, "because Super Nintendo is the shit." "Was the shit. Now it s all about Wii. God, Karen, get with the times." Fine, Rachel. Fuck you and your lack of ability to reminisce. At least I have yo ur hoodie. Suck on that. "Wait," she said as I reached into the pizza box, tearing the crust off another slice of pizza (rude? Probably. I don t care. I m doing her a favor and I figure she s paying me in crust). "You played Super Nintendo with Joe Jonas instead of hangi ng out with your hunky hunky boyfriend?" For the third time in five minutes, I rolled my eyes. "I was trapped there; Kevi n went... missing... and couldn t drive me home. But it was fun. Joe was a better Donkey than you ever were." "So you don t even call him?" Rachel sifted through the clothes in one of the suit cases, picking out a pair of faded denim shorts. "No..." I sat down on the coffee table and took a bite from my crust. "Why?" I c hallenged, looking up at her. "That s what you do when you have a boyfriend. You call him." Looking at the short s, she asked, "Do you want these?" "Hi, my thunder thighs versus your chicken legs. I don t think borrowing your shor ts is an option. And..." I sighed in exasperation, irritated she was pressing th e issue. "I don t know, my phone was in my backpack; I wasn t thinking about it." Wa tching as she folded the shorts and tossed them onto the couch, I added, "Anyway , today when I saw him he said he called but didn t know why he bothered because h e knew I d be studying. See? He gets me." "I don t have chicken legs." Rachel turned to the mirror to examine her (chicken) study ?

legs. "Wait, he said he didn t know why he called?" I sighed even louder. "Yes. So?" "Nothing," she shrugged, returning to the suitcases and going through the piles of clothes in them. "Just... I don t know, it sounds weird. Like he thought he sho uldn t have called." Did I stutter? Hadn t I just said that? "So? He shouldn t have." I absent-mindedly chewed at my crust. Oh, carbs. How I he art thee. "And you don t see the problem with that?" "No, I don t." And I didn t. I was also starting to get annoyed with her. Besides, w e had second base in an elevator. That made up for any shittiness on my part. Rachel shrugged and let it go. I did too, for the most part, but after that I wa sn t hungry anymore. Hours later, Rachel and I were in her bed. The entire apartment was a mess, but her two suitcases sat neatly against the wall in the living room. I was glad I d idn t have to look at them. Exhausted after getting a minimal amount of sleep the night before, I had taken my pants off and was lying down in my hoodie, the bed sheet halfway covering my legs, and I watched Rachel sit next to me, leaning aga inst a pillow, checking her e-mail on the laptop in her lap. "Why do you have to go?" I asked. " Cause I m awesome," she replied breezily, typing something. "I need to be with awe some people. You re bringing me down." "Thanks," I sighed, rolling over to stare at the ceiling. The ceiling fan spun l azily because I d flipped the wrong switch and only the remote could turn it off b ut we were both too lazy to search for it. Rachel watched me watch the ceiling fan. "It s only for a few months," she said, t hough I wasn t sure whether she was assuring me or herself. "Then you ll go on summe r vacation and life will be awesome." "That s months away." I tried to focus on one particular blade of the fan as it sp un, and I could for a few seconds, but then I lost track of it and it turned int o a fan again. "I just... like having you around." "It won't be so bad," she said gently. "You have your boyfriend," she added. "An d Lucas." "You know, that wasn t even funny the first time." I closed my eyes. "Noted." After a few minutes, I heard Rachel murmur, "God, you're such a baby." I wasn t sure if she was referring to the fact that I was falling asleep so early or that I had been acting so needy about her leaving, but it was true. I was the baby of the family; I was used to being babied. And with Rachel gone... I fell asleep not long after that, to the hum of the fan and the sound of her ty ping on the keyboard. The day started at 5:38 a.m.

I think my brain was out to get me or something. My alarm wasn t set to go off unt il 8:15 so I could make it in time for my 9:00 class, but for some reason, even though I hadn t gone to sleep until past midnight, I naturally woke up at 5:38 a.m . I yawned and tried to fall back to sleep, holding my comforter tightly to me and pressing my face deeper into my pillow, but I couldn t attempt to return to my dr eam because I hadn t been dreaming at least, I didn t think so. It didn t even feel like I d slept. The entire night was just nothing. I reluctantly opened my eyes and stared at the clock across the room. Rachel wou ld be waking up in twenty minutes. Leaving in eighty. Home in four hundred and t wenty. I wanted to call somebody. Lucas. When you have a boyfriend, he s the person you c all when you want to talk to someone at inappropriate hours, right? But I couldn t even bring myself to reach my hand under the pillow and grab my phone. Calling Lucas would mean explaining things. I hadn t told him about Rachel leaving because it would involve being sad in front of him and I m not good at that. I can t do emo tions. Kevin I d told because I didn t depend on him to make me feel better. I told him the facts and that was it. With Lucas there was a sort of obligation. As the boyfriend he s required to care more than other people. I didn t know if I d be able to handle that the questions, the sympathetic murmurs. I was good at making out wi th him; that didn t require giving him any part of me nothing that was real, anyway. But I wasn t sure he d be down for a no-questions-asked makeout session at five-som ething in the morning. Once I d dragged myself out of bed after wallowing in self-pity for a while, I rob otically reached for my towel, robe, and flip-flops and walked down the hall. The water was cold. Honestly, I don t know why I wasn t surprised. Of course it would be cold. It was th e world s way of saying, "Yeah, today s gonna be pretty shitty. Just making sure you knew." Shivering once I returned to my room, I scoffed at the pair of jeans I d set out f or myself and reached past them for the sweatpants I d worn to bed. It was definit ely one of those days. I went to my classes. I tried to pay attention, especially in Classics because I knew I d be writing a paper for it that night, but when they were over I couldn t r emember anything about what I d just learned. If not for the notes in my notebook, I d think I had slept through them all. I don t know what I did after my classes were over. I wasted a lot of time on my c omputer, at some point I got dinner, and when I returned I figured it was time I get started on my Classics paper. It was only short three pages but I still had no idea what the hell I was supposed to be writing about and already it was eight o c lock. Rachel was home already, goddamn. And she hadn t even called me. Sitting at my desk, I checked the syllabus: The second response paper will focus on The Aeneid, Books I-IV. I knew that book. I knew the cover. Why couldn t I remember anything about it? I w as caught up on my reading; that s what I d spent three hours doing at Kevin s. I flipped through the syllabus again. Oh.

I d caught up for the week before. Not for this week. Fuck my life. I reached for my backpack and rifled through the books, but The Aeneid by Virgil wasn t in there. Cursing Virgil s name, I got up from my desk and examined the cont ents of the mini bookshelf between my desk and my bed, but I knew it couldn t have been there. I distinctly remembered taking it off the bookshelf and putting it in my backpack with every intent to read it. I searched everywhere: under my bed, on my desk, in my drawers, on Molly s desk (h ey, she wasn t around. She s never really around because she has a life). It wasn t th ere. I refused to let myself panic. Just because it was getting late and I had to wri te a paper for a book I hadn t yet read because I apparently lost it. Right, no ne ed to panic. After several minutes of panicking, I remembered: Kevin s. I d brought it with me fo r my studyfest at Kevin s. If it wasn t here, it was there. The idea relieved me somewhat, but I was still feeling panicky as I called him. Hence why I first accidentally called the person above him in my address book, K aitlyn, a girl from high school, and endured an awkward seventeen-minute convers ation. I kept being all, "Bitch I never meant to call you," and she kept being a ll, "Hey Karen! Let s catch up on life!" Fucking Kaitlyn. I didn t even know why I still had her number. I learned, in thos e seventeen minutes, that she is an environmental sciences major at Cal Poly and that she s also confused about her sexuality. Thanks, Kaitlyn. As I deleted her ass, I realized she was the first person I talked to all day. I v e got to stop having these realizations. I called Kevin (I double-checked to make sure it was him), he answered on the fi fth ring, saying "Hello?" in a hushed tone. "Kevin?" "Yeah. What s up?" He said it in a way that implied he really didn t care about my w hat, and that he cared even less about whether or not it was up. "Um... I think I left my book in your room. Could you check?" This sounded like a pretty reasonable request. All he d have to do, assuming he wa s in his room, was walk on over to his desk and check. I was fearing for the mom ent when I d have to follow it up with a less reasonable request asking him to dri ve down here and give it to me. And by it I mean the book. If anyone was going t o give a dirty it to me, it would be Lucas, obviously. "Oh..." That did not sound good. "Sorry," he continued, "I m not at home." "Oh." This was none of my business, and the last of my concerns, but I asked any way. If I was going to get screwed, I might as well know why. "Where are you?"

"Um... just at a friend s house." "Are you cheating on me? It s okay if you are. If so, I m a little proud and I expec t details." "I can t talk," he quickly responded. "You can t talk because you re cheating on me?" I playfully pressed, hoping my light tone would disguise the fact that I was pressing. With Kevin I m always pressing. Being intrusive didn t bother me because I felt like I d earned the right. He ignored me. "Do you really need it right now?" "Yes," I responded firmly. "Um..." Pause. Hesitation. Deliberation. "Just... let me get back to you, okay? Don t worry, I ll figure something out." I wasn t sure what he was going to do but I trusted him. It wasn t like I had any ot her choice. "Okay." We hung up and I was left to stare at my phone. I chose that time to delete abou t ten people from high school that I never wanted to call by accident. The phone rang again but it wasn t Kevin s ring tone. I couldn t tell who it was from looking at the screen. If it was the newly deleted Kaitlyn I was going to be pis sed. "Hello?" I answered. "Uh... Hi, is this Karen?" Unidentified-but-kind-of-familiar male voice, if you re the one calling me, you sh ould fucking know. "Yes..." "Hey, um, it s Joe." "Joe," I said slowly, trying to remember if I even knew any Joes. Joe the plumbe r, maybe? "Jonas," he added. "Oh," I replied, surprised. "What, is Kevin dead?" He laughed but it sounded fake. "No, uh, I m in Kevin s room. He said you left a boo k there?" Oh, Kevin, how dare you thrust this awkwardness upon me by sending your brother to do the dirty work because you don t care enough about your fake girlfriend to a bandon your mistress. And if you were going to thrust someone upon me, at least let it be Nick so I could bond with him. I don t know why but I ve made it my missio n now to conquer all the Jonases. And by conquer I mean befriend. Not destroy. B ut I kind of wanted to destroy Kevin right then. I cleared my throat and sat up a little straighter in my desk chair. I don t know why but I do that when I m having uncomfortable phone conversations. It makes me f eel more official and take-charge.

"Yes," I confirmed. "It s called The Aeneid by Virgil and it s gray and black, and o n the cover " "Found it." "Oh. Thank you." And now for even more awkwardness. I wanted to say Great, you f ound it. Now what? "Now what?" Joe asked, before I could. Honestly, I didn t know. "Is... Kevin going to be back soon?" Kevin. The one and only link between us. He laughed dryly. "Somehow I doubt it." God, Joe, your thinly veiled disapproval and the secret knowledge behind it is so intriguing. Give me a little of that k nowledge. "Oh," I sighed. "Why? When do you need it by?" He almost sounded like he cared. "Tonight," I meekly replied. "I have to write a paper on it. And I haven t even re ad it." "Whoa, the whole thing? It s jeez, it s over four hundred pages." Joe Jonas, flipping through my Classics 23A book? "Books one through four." "What? Four of these?" I laughed. For the first time that day. God, my life is so sad. "No, each book is like a long chapter," I explained. "There are twelve books in that one book, I thi nk." "Oh. Cool." He was losing interest. I should have said, Yes. I m going write a paper on them, then take a hen I ll probably get a sandwich or me. "So you need it tonight?" There was no way I could ask him to drive all the way over here to bring it to m e. We were barely acquaintances. Maybe if I worded it in such a way that it woul d make it seem like it would be a favor to Kevin and not a favor to someone he h ardly knows. But then again he seemed to currently dislike Kevin because Kevin w as possibly cheating on me. What a pickle. "Basically," I sighed. "Yeah." Silence. Come on, Joe. Don t you remember that one awesome night we had three days ago shit, was that all? It seemed so long ago with the Donkey Kong and the bonding and whatnot? As the silence progressed I just felt worse. I had no right to expect him to do this for me. I knew he wouldn t. Now he s just trying to figure out a way to nicely reject me. I think I lost some street cred in Joe s eyes. to read four 400-page books in one night, then crack at that whole global warming problemo. T something. Fuck yes, that s a regular night for

"Karen, I wish I could drive it out there to you..." I nodded to myself. Oh, fuck you, Joe. Just say the "But I m watching Frankie..." Really? You re babysitting? I don t buy that. You re a fucking Jonas brother; you don t do things like babysit. And where are your fucking parents? It s a Monday night fo r God s sake. "...and he s sick..." Then throw his sick body in the car with you. It s not that hard. "...and I m the only one here. I have to stay home because... well, it s a long stor y." He laughed uncomfortably. Thanks for those like seventeen excuses. I got it the first time. You could have just told me I was fucked. It would have the same effect and it would waste les s time. I knew it wasn t really Joe I was mad at, but the me inside my head was having a p retty good time taking it out on him. "It s okay," I said quietly, trying to sound upbeat. "Sorry," he added. He almost sounded it, too. "Yeah, it s fine." I expected him to say something like, "Yeah, well, bye" but he lingered. "Can t you read the summary online or something?" Part of me wanted to slam the phone against my desk to punish him for thinking t his shortcut was a brand new idea that I hadn t even considered before. But he was trying. "No," I said patiently (as patiently as possible, anyway). "Not for a response p aper. I m supposed to make an argument about what I ve read in the text, provide tex tual support, that sort of thing. A summary isn t really enough." Fucked. I was so fucked. I just wanted to hang up to end my fake politeness and just cry because my first day without Rachel was a disaster and I didn t even want to face the ide a of tomorrow. "Oh," he quietly said. "I should go." Right, because I have a lot to do. Things like not read and not w rite a paper. After a few more awkward exchanges, we hung up. I laid on my bed, curled in the fetal position, and stared blankly at the wall o pposite me. I was alone. I hadn t made many friends here, and I d been okay with that because I had Rachel. L ast semester I pitied the people on my floor who wandered the halls searching fo r someone they could feel comfortable with, because I had Rachel. I don t need a l but...

ot of friends, so I didn t make much of an effort to make any. I guess I should have. I could have bothered to get to know people in my classes . What possibly made me think that I could do this on my own? I used my sleeve to wipe away a tear. Even though I didn t want to, I d become dependent on Kevin. He was nice, safe, warm e xcept, of course, when I asked about his life; then he got cold, distant. Becaus e he didn t trust me. And, sadly, I trusted him far more than I really should. So who did he trust, then? His mistress? If Kevin and I were friends on MySpace assum ing we existed in a dimension where MySpace still mattered he would probably be my number two in my top friends, after Rachel. And what would I be in his? I d come after his brothers. And his mistress. And probably his fucking dog. Does he have a dog? Oh, wait, I wouldn t know because he doesn t tell me things. Lucas should probably be my number one. Right? Or at least my number two. I don t know why I had so much trouble opening up to him. I think it started because of the Kevin thing and then I learned that so much of my life began to revolve arou nd Kevin and it was better to just keep my mouth shut. But, God, I really like L ucas. I just wanted to learn everything about him without having to open up abou t myself. At some point I fell asleep. I must have, because when my phone woke me up Molly was there, sitting on her bed on her laptop, my mouth was dry, and I had a vagu e recollection of a depressing dream. I knew the only person I would answer for was Rachel, but when I didn t recognize the phone number I answered anyway. "Hello?" "Hey." Oh my God. What could Joe want now? Had he found another way to indirectly ruin my life? "Hi," I replied. But not without suspicion. There was only way he could make me happy and that was if he said, So I m standing outside your building with that boo k. And even then I don t know if it would do anything for me because it was midnig ht and I was far too depressed for academia. "So... any luck with that book yet?" "No," I told him tonelessly. "I gave up a long time ago." I should have given up on life a long time ago. "Oh. Um. Well, I read it." "Huh?" "Books one through four. I read them." He said it so casually like it was so nor mal. "What?" I could blame this on the fact that I d just woken up but I think he would have elicited this response from me if I was fully aware, too. I sat up. "Why?" "I just... wanted to." "Oh," I responded dumbly.

"But I figured, now that I ve read it, I could help you." Now that made no sense whatsoever. Just like he indirectly ruined my life, he s tr ying to now indirectly help me? What the hell could I say to that? Um, thanks, Joe. It s great that you now know the story of The Aeneid. Yeah, that really fucking helps. They haven t invented any sort of mind-reading technology ye t, so all that information in your head is pretty useless. But maybe when they d o invent that, they ll also have invented a time machine and then I can go back in time, read your mind, and write the paper. "How?" I asked slowly. "Anything you want to know, I could tell you." He said it so easily, like it was the most normal thing in the world. For a brief finding an gh him. But given up a moment I considered it. Picking Joe s brain for details on The Aeneid, angle I could write about, actually writing my paper, somehow, throu then I remembered how batshit insane that all sounded. How I d already while ago.

"Thanks for offering," I started, unsure of how to reject someone. Because it s al ways me who s rejected. And I m pretty sure Joe doesn t even know what rejection is. " But, uh, I kind of already gave up on the paper." "Don t tell me I read it for nothing." I rolled my eyes. All I wanted was to get off the phone with him so I could go b ack to wallowing in self-pity. "You didn t. You read it because you wanted to. Now you know a little more about the origins of Rome. Congratulations." "I read it because I wanted to help you. I m gonna help you now and you re gonna tak e it." I was right. He didn t know how to be rejected. He was rejecting rejection. He took my silence to mean submission. "Well, the first two were pretty straight forward. This dude named Aeneas goes on this journey " "I know all that. I told you, I ve read the summaries, but that s not enough. I have to make an argument." I knew my brevity could be taken for rudeness but I was d one with being polite. "Oh." "So what did you think, then?" I asked, for lack of something better to say. "Well..." I listened to the silence that followed. "I don t think I could really h ave an opinion on anything until the fourth book, because up until then it was j ust the dude doing shit. But in the fourth book some shit went down." Reluctantly I opened my laptop and glanced at the page I had already opened, a s ummary of each of the books. "That s the one where he falls in love with Dido and then leaves her, right? Wham, bam, thank you ma am?" Joe laughed. "Yeah, I guess. The whole thing seemed out of place, though. It foc used on Dido the whole time and she was fucking insane. It was like Shakespeare or something."

I half-listened to him explain Dido s insanity, finding specific passages and read ing them to me, but I was reading the prompt on the syllabus again. I needed to find something to argue. An opinion. Something. "So do you think Aeneas was justified in leaving Dido?" I asked. Across from me, Molly sneezed. I looked up at her and remembered she was there. I didn t like tal king on the phone in front of her because it felt rude (even though she has no p roblem talking on the phone for hours while I m in the room). I gathered my laptop and charger and stepped out the door, sitting in the empty hallway as I waited for Joe s answer. "I guess. He had to. He needed to go invent Rome or whatever." "Then why was the focus on Dido?" I couldn t believe I was on the phone with Joe J onas and we were discussing classical Roman literature. "I don t know," he said at last. "To show what a douche Aeneas was?" "He wasn t a douche," Joe was quick to reply. "He was following his destiny. He di dn t want to leave her but he did." As Joe began reading lines to me to prove his assertion, I opened a Word documen t and started typing out possible ideas. "I m gonna say he wanted to leave her," I said when Joe stopped talking. "What? Weren t you listening, that s the exact opposite of what I m saying." If your argument doesn t sound crazy then it s not really an argument. What Joe was doing was more making an observation, but I didn t tell him that. I was sick of ge tting back papers with my thesis underlined in red pen with stuff like This is f airly obvious. Dig a little deeper. Fuck you, graders. I m going to dig to fucking China and you can all just suck it. "He wanted to leave her," I repeated, typing it out as I began writing a very ro ugh outline. "He never intended to stay with her in the first place, his mind wa s on other things the whole time, and he couldn t wait to get out of there." "Prove it." "That s what you re going to do," I replied absent-mindedly, caught up in my typing. "While I BS my way through this introduction, you are going to find textual sup port for what I just said." I both love and hate introductions. They re pose other than to keep the thesis company, I can stretch them out when I want to waste ng to be stretched to the max. It was going logy less disgusting. absolutely ridiculous and serve no pur but sometimes I like seeing how far paper. And this introduction was goi to be Paris Hilton s vagina. Or an ana

"That s crazy because it doesn t exist," he said slowly, sounding a little pissy. "Think outside the box. Live a little," I shot back, lost in typing. "Live a little?" he scoffed. "It s Monday night. I m home alone, baby-sitting my sic k little brother. There s vomit on my pants and I just spent hours reading up on R oman history."

I wasn t sure what reaction he was expecting, laughter or serious sympathy, so I h eld back on both. "Why are you home alone, anyway?" "My parents are searching for Nick. He s kind of MIA." I stopped writing for my (awesome) intro. "What?" "Well, they re pretty sure where he is. He just hasn t been answering his phone when he's out lately and he s going out a lot and they re getting sick of it. And I," he said bitterly, "get to be the one who stays home and waits for him if he shows up here." I didn t know why he was spreading his legs like this. His emotional legs, I mean. God, why are all my analogies so dirty? "Wow," I said at last. "Never would have pegged Nick for a party animal." "Yeah," Joe laughed a little. "No, it s not like that. He s just been hanging out wi th his girlfriend a lot." I nodded, waited for him to say more, and resumed typing when he didn t. There was silence on both ends but it wasn t awkward because we were both doing our own thi ng. "Hey," Joe said after a few minutes. "I found a line to support your crazy theor y." "Good. Bookmark it and keep looking." "What, you re still not done with the introduction?" "I m down to two-thirds of a page. I think that s pretty impressive, considering." "Okay then." By the time I got three-quarters of the way down the page, I had completely run out of bullshit. "How s it going?" "I ve found a couple more." As he read me a few lines and explained his reasoning (well, my reasoning. He ma de it very clear that he didn t support my crazy theory, as he called it) and I type d the main points, I still couldn t get over how surreal the entire situation was. Before beginning my next paragraph, I asked, "Why are you helping me?" I heard a large sigh on the other end. " Cause Kevin s not. And he should." There wa s that tone I was getting more and more familiar with, the judgement and disappr oval. Even though this time it wasn t directed at me, I still felt the harsh sting of it. "You don t have to clean up other people s messes," I said quietly. "He shouldn t be allowed to fuck with other people s lives." Just then my phone started beeping, signaling a call on the other line. I took i t away from my ear and looked at the screen: Lucas calling. I bit my lip and ret urned to my conversation with Joe, trying to ignore the soft beeps it emitted ev

ery two seconds. You re a horrible girlfriend, each beep told me. But I couldn t ans wer Lucas; I was actually busy. "Is he fucking with my life?" I was quick to inquire. You re a horrible girlfriend. I tried not to sound too curious. I think a true girlfriend would have been more concerned about the state of her relationship, so I tried to work a little bit of that concern in there too. "Where is he right now?" I asked. You re a horrible girlfriend. Another large sigh. God, Joe, your life s not that complicated. Get over yourself. And stop getting all up in Kevin s grill. Well, actually, do it if it means I get to know what s on Kevin s grill. If Joe could find out Kevin s business without meddl ing like he was kind of currently doing, I would be happy. Because I did want Ke vin to be happy, whoever he was with. You re a horrible girlfriend. Finally the beeps stopped. I couldn t tell whether that was relief or anxiety that settled itself in my stomach. "How long have you guys been dating?" he asked. What was it that Kevin said again? "Something about New Years?" I tried. It was all I could remember. "So like three months. Is it serious?" Um. I have reason to believe we re both cheating on each other. "No." "No?" How did this turn from Kevin to my relationship with Kevin? "Could you get back to the line about Mercury visiting Aeneas?" "Uh, yeah. Sure." We went over it again and Joe stayed on the line as I wrote it. He was quiet for a few minutes, but as he heard my typing he demanded to know what I was writing . I read everything I had so far aloud to him, but then he became bothered by a sentence in my introduction and we spent several minutes arguing about the forma t of my paper. "I have hit the third page," I announced gleefully, breaking the silence we had yet again gotten into. "Sweet." "I figure if I write a paragraph on the line you found on Dido, and then the con clusion, I m set." "You re gonna read it to me as you go along, right?"

"Mm-hmm," I said, rolling my eyes. I was busy adding an extra sentence to the pr evious paragraph, one I was sure he wouldn t approve of. I was getting to know the kind of writing style he preferred, and mine wasn t it. He liked things brief and to the point, but he didn t realize that the whole point of writing a paper is to stretch things out as long as possible because it s all about taking up space. To cover up the sounds of my typing, I asked, "What s going on at your end?" "Well," he said, heaving another sigh oh, woe is you, Joe "Nick s not home. Kevin s not home. My parents aren t home. I think Frankie just made use of the vomit bucket ne xt to his bed while you were secretly adding that extra sentence. Yeah, life is good." "Sucks to be you, man." Joe laughed a real one this time. None of this polite shit. "I appreciate your con dolences." "No problem." "So are you gonna put my name on the paper, too?" I laughed. "Uh, I don t think so." "That s cool. I can be your ghostwriter." "Sexy." "I know." "That s why you said it." We both laughed. Together we worked through the final supporting paragraph and t hen the conclusion. When he heard I was e-mailing it to myself so I could print it out the next day, he asked that I e-mail it to him, too. His e-mail address? Omgheyjudesup@yahoo.com. "What?" I laughed in disbelief. "I think it s pretty damn clever. Beatles reference, allusion to modern chatspeak. It s genius. You re jealous." "So jealous," I scoffed. "What s yours?" "Karenshin@ucla.edu." "Yeah, you re definitely jealous." After a moment of file attachment, I said, "Okay, it s sent." "Cool. Thanks." There was a general awkwardness about what to do next. I was incredibly grateful to him and then I d have to thank him and he d insist it was no big deal and I d insi st it was. I hate polite exchanges. I wish it could be like IM: I d be like "kthx" and he d be like "yw" and that would be the end of it. "So you owe me one," Joe said. "Two, actually, because first I read and then I h

elped write." "You re right I owe you two." "I expect to get repaid in full." "I ll think of something," I assured him. I took the silence that followed to genu inely say, "But really, thank you." He accepted my thanks and we hung up not long after that. And it was funny becau se I didn t want to hang up on him. Talking to him, I d completely forgotten about m y sucky day and the prospect of my sucky future looming in the distance. It was just us, Aeneas, and Dido. It had also occurred to me that I d learned more about the Jonas family from that one conversation with Joe than from what Kevin had to ld me over the span of our entire "relationship". The Jonases had problems. Who knew. I yawned and checked my phone for the time as I waited for my laptop to shut dow n. It was a little past three a.m. God damn. I d been up for twenty-two hours. Peering at my phone, I noticed a little envelope in the corner with squiggly lin es on it: the symbol that I had an unread text message. I must have gotten it wh ile I was on the phone with Joe. My heart skipped a beat when I saw that it was from Lucas. And not in a good way . Because it said, Can we have dinner tomorrow at six? I need to talk to you. Shit. "I don t want to talk about it." It was becoming my catchphrase. I d already said it four times during the drive to some neighborhood with Kevin. Neighborhood. We were driving to a neighborhood. Kevin wanted paparazzi to capture photos of us taking a walk. He d suggested a run at first, until I reminded him that neither of us really knew how to run. Maybe he saw the photos of Miley and her sexy model boy toy and got jealous of t heir attention-getting ways, I don t know. Actually, he was probably getting fed u p with the usual club scene neither of us can stand and he wanted to get creativ e. Whatever the reason, it was why we were both wearing swishy track pants and T -shirts on a Saturday afternoon. I d told Kevin I wasn t going to show any cleavage like Miley. I don t know what disgusted him more the memory of the picture of Miley s cleavage, or the thought of my cleavage. It took him a while, but he finally got the hint that maybe I didn t want to talk about it, and the rest of the car ride was filled with silence. "You know," Kevin said after we had been walking for a few minutes, "I think thi s is the first time you ve declined to volunteer information." I made sure to stare straight ahead at the trees that lined the sidewalk as I sn apped, "Well, maybe I m taking a page out of your book. Did you ever think of that ?" He adjusted the sunglasses on his face and quickly ran a hand through his curls. "Are you mad at me?" I noticed he didn t look at me when he said this, probably s o it wouldn t show in the photographs that we were having a serious conversation. Of course Kevin would plan shit out like that. I thought about it. "I just wish I d never met you," I said at last. If Kevin was surprised, he didn t show it. Then again, he doesn t show anything. "If I d never met

you, then..." I picked a leaf off of a tree and slowly dissected it as we walked , tearing it apart at each vein. "Then what? What happened?" "Oh, you care, do you?" I already knew the answer. I guess I just felt like bein g a bitch. "Of course I care," he replied in a very you-should-know-that kind of way. I kept staring at my mutilated leaf because the sun was shining far too bright to look up and I wasn t wearing sunglasses, and because I didn t want to look at Kevin as I quietly said, "It doesn t feel like it sometimes." We turned right and began walking down another street. I wasn t sure if he had a d estination in mind or if we d just be walking aimlessly, but I just followed where ver he went. After a moment s contemplative pause, he asked, "Like when?" "Like when I have to stay the night at your house because you re not there to driv e me home. Or when I can t do my reading because I left a book at your house but y ou re not there to get it. And I don t know why." "I m sorry about that. I did what I could." "It s okay." If not for his brother s kindness, it probably wouldn t be okay, but I kn ew it wasn t his fault I left the book there in the first place, so I was willing to let it slide. "Just tell me why." Kevin sighed. We walked several paces before he said, "It s just... it s personal." "So s what happened to me." "You d tell me if I told you mine?" " I ll show you mine if you show me yours, " I recited. Kevin grinned and tugged on the waistband of his pants, as if he was about to pu ll them down to flash me, and we both laughed. It cleared the tension somewhat, and when the laughter died down he began, "Um... well... I don t know if you ve read this anywhere, but I had a girlfriend." He rubbed his neck uncomfortably. "Eva?" I tried, recalling the name I d heard online posters mention. He nodded and reached above him, plucking a bright red Hibiscus flower from a tr ee. Gently rubbing a petal between his thumb and forefinger, he said, "Well, we were together for a while. Not an incredibly long time or anything, but... Like, I could see us having a future together, I could really..." He smoothed down a ruffled petal and shook his head. "Long story short, we broke up about seven mon ths ago." Tossing my destroyed leaf onto a grassy green lawn, I asked, "Why?" There was a pause. Just as I d gotten him to open up, he was shutting down again. "Maybe you should show me yours now." "Okay, are you ready?" I asked. When he nodded, I grabbed the bottom hem of my s hirt and quickly lifted it, showing the black sports bra underneath for a moment before lowering it just as fast. Kevin looked shocked. I think he was also going for a look of disapproval, but h

e burst into a fit of laughter and soon we were both giggling hysterically, stop ping under a shady tree and leaning on each other for support. "If they..." he wheezed out between gasps for air. "If they get... a picture... of that..." I kept laughing. After a few moments when we d both stopped, Kevin gestured to the sidewalk ahead of us, suggesting that we keep walking. I sighed, reluctant to b egin talking, but after we d walked for a minute I started. "Lucas texted me a few days ago on Monday night saying he needed to talk to me," I explained. "Oh," he said. Because everyone knows what that means. It s the universal sign for bad news. "So we had dinner the next day," I continued. "I guess you re wondering why I asked to have dinner with you tonight," Lucas said after we d both gotten our plates of food at the dining hall and were sitting acr oss from each other in a secluded corner. I nodded, glancing down at my bowl of soup and bread roll. Obviously, considerin g my food choice, I was feeling far too nervous to eat, so I figured soup would be playing it safe. From what I d learned about Lucas, he didn t feel the same way about food as I did. He saw it as just... food. Nothing more, nothing less. He picked at his rice and chicken curry before looking at me and saying, "I like you." There was a pause; I didn t speak because it looked like he was going to say more. "A lot, actually, " he continued. "Did he say he loves you?" Kevin gasped. I was actually prepared to go further with the story, but Kevin s interruption gav e me the perfect moment to say, "Your turn again." Kevin sighed, didn t speak for a bit. I guess he had to transition from passive li stener to storyteller. "So we broke up last August. She said... she said it was because she didn t love me. I d said it to her a few months in and I was waiting for her to say it back, but then after a while she told me she wouldn t. That no amou nt of time could make her love me." I stayed silent, unable to think of a response. Nothing I thought of was eloquen t enough to say to him; all I really wanted to say was That sucks. Because it di d. What can you do when someone says they don t love you? "And I was willing to accept that," he continued. "I mean, it sucks, but what ca n you do, right? So we broke up. And at first I was having trouble handling it, so I d call her but she wouldn t answer. And one day, she answered. And we talked. W e ignored the whole thing about me loving her and her not loving me back, and it was... kind of nice. I missed her." I didn t want to say anything to ruin the magic of Kevin s (emotional) leg-spreadage . "And we would talk for hours, at least once a week. We ignored the way we d felt b efore but it was like something was building up again." Kevin ran his hand acros s the top of a tall bush beside him. "And then she got a boyfriend." I raised my eyebrows, expecting him to continue, but when he turned to me I reco

gnized that look: Your turn. So I took my turn. "But... the thing is..." Lucas stirred his lemonade around with his straw and fa ced me. "Do you like me? At all?" For a moment I was too stunned to answer. He took my pause as hesitation, and to ok the hesitation as incentive to continue talking. "I mean, you don t call me. You don t answer when I call. And... I don t even know if I really trust you." He didn t sound mad, exactly. More... honest. Fed-up. The way his blue eyes looked at me showed that all he wanted was the truth. "Of course I like you," I said at last. That was the truth. "Then why are you with me?" That question surprised me because it seemed self-explanatory. "Because I like y ou." I felt like it was the only answer, the obvious answer, but he was looking at me like it was the wrong answer. "But do you want to be with me?" His gaze was so intense that I had to look away . I picked a minuscule piece from my bread roll and rolled it between my fingers . I set it on the corner of my plate because I couldn t eat even that. "The reason ..." I looked up to see that Lucas was looking down, using his fork to move arou nd the food on his plate. I noticed he hadn t eaten either. "The reason I m asking i s because I found another picture." "Which... which one?" was all I could bring myself to ask. Great, what a way to say it. Which one, as if there was an entire library of pictures of Kevin and me . Like I was already admitting everything. "I don t have it with me..." He shrugged, like it didn t even matter."It was from th e day you said you slept over at your sister s, to study. I remember because you w ere wearing that same pink shirt when I saw you in the elevator." "Fuck," Kevin murmured quietly. "So he broke up with you?" I gave him the Your turn look. Kevin sighed. "Even with the boyfriend, she d still talk to me. She never called me; it was alwa ys me calling her. But still... she still answered. Every time. Even if it was t hree in the morning, she still answered." "Why d you call?" I asked. He turned to me. I could see my reflection in his mirro red sunglasses. "Because..." Shrugging, he said, "Because I loved her." "But she had a boyfriend," I stressed. "That s... that s wrong." "They d only just started dating. I needed to get her back before she became his. But she was still mine, she still wanted to be mine. Why would she answer if she didn t?" I shrugged in defeat. "So then what?" There was a moment s pause before Kevin spoke again. "I don t have the best memory." What the hell did he mean by that? Did he want me to give him money? As I was ab out to ask him, he continued.

"I may not remember what I was wearing a week ago, or where I got these shoes... " We both looked down and I saw his black Nikes. I was willing to bet he got the m for free. I m sure I d have trouble keeping track of all my freebies, too. What a hard life you lead, Kevin. "But," he continued, "I remember things she tells me. She probably thought I forgot because she just told me casually one day when we were dating, but I remembered." I was lost. "What?" "She had a childhood best friend, Stuart. Their parents thought they were destin ed to be together because they grew up together, but she said she had a sneaking suspicion that he was gay. I mean, God, with a name like Stuart..." I laughed. Sorry, Stuart, but that was kind of true. The only Stuart I knew was the creepy kid Michael McDonald played on MadTV. He may not be gay, but still, i t s not exactly a step forward for the Stuarts of the world. And Stewie from Famil y Guy... take a wild guess on what Stewie is short for. "What s your point?" I asked. "I ran into them one night," he said. He was smiling. "Her boyfriend? He was Stu art. Her childhood Stuart." It was funny, seeing him so happy at the memory. He was almost laughing. "I don t know if she was trying to make me jealous, or trying to convince herself she was over me, but that is not a real relationship." Or maybe it didn t even involve Kevin. Maybe it was the other way around: Maybe St uart was using Eva to try to prove to his parents that he was straight. I didn t s ay this out loud, but apparently I didn t need to because Kevin went quiet, as if recognizing that this was all his wishful speculation. I didn t need him to tell me it was my turn. "I ll overlook it," Lucas said, to my surprise. "If... if you break things off wit h Kevin." My heart was pounding furiously. "Lucas, we re not dating." "Who, you and me or you and Kevin? Because I don t know anymore." I just looked at him. "You know what I mean." "Then..." He sighed, running a hand through his blonde hair. "Obviously somethin g s going on, enough to make you lie to me about it. Am I right?" Yes, something was going on, but it wasn t at all what he thought. To explain ever ything would be insane. I wanted to tell him what was going on in the simplest w ay. I looked Lucas squarely in the eye. "Kevin and I are just friends," I said firml y. I tried to use as strong a voice as I could, to hide the fact that I was terr ified."I don t know how else to say it. I lied because the subject of Kevin always makes you weird and jealous. He is my friend, and you re my boyfriend, and I thin k it s ridiculous for you to present me with an ultimatum just because you re jealou s." "Oh snap!" Kevin exclaimed. I laughed. I think it was the un-whitest thing I d eve r heard him say. Of course, because he was Kevin, he had to say it in the whites t way possible.

As we turned another corner I realized we were back where we started from. He ma de no move to head toward his car parked on the curb, so we continued walking. I elbowed Kevin. "Yeah, yeah," he sighed. "Okay. So, for whatever reason, she has a fake boyfrien d. I figure two can play at that game. Enter you." "What game, though?" "I m still working on that," he confessed sheepishly. "But what if it was never about you?" I asked. "What if it was all for Stuart an d she really was over you?" Kevin shrugged. "I considered that. And... lately, for the past couple of months , I ve called her less. I ve been busy, but it was good because I thought I was fina lly getting over her. And it s funny, you know, because hanging out with you got m e out of the house, and it got me to stop thinking about her all the time... whe n the whole reason I started the fake relationship with you was because I wasn t o ver her. But you... and us ... got me slowly getting over her." He paused. "But... she called me last week for the first time since we broke up and asked me to visit h er at work." "Let me guess, she works at the Guitar Center?" Kevin nodded. "I went there, she was closing up... and we talked. About everythi ng. It was... it was really nice." "Did you talk about the fact that you both have fake relationships?" "What? Of course not." Kevin paused, I rolled my eyes, and then he kept talking. "But seeing her again, talking to her again... I wasn t over her. I m not over her. I want her back. For real, this time." He stopped talking. My turn. Lucas stabbed a piece of curried potato with his fork and dragged it across his plate. "So that s it, then? You re choosing Kevin?" My eyes widened in surprise. "Did you not hear a word I just said?" "I did," he said calmly. "Did you hear what I said?" I couldn t understand how he could be so calm about the entire matter. Here he was, on the verge of breaking up with me if that was what it took, and he was using the same voice he used to ask for a scoop of curry earlier. He sighed. "I m not asking you to stop talking t o him; that would be crazy. Just... when it s just you two, it s like you re out on a date or something. You know?" I nodded blankly. My mouth felt dry. "It feels like I m not your boyfriend, he is. All I want is for you to stop acting like you re dating him, because that s what it looks like." I nodded again. I couldn t look at Lucas, couldn t look at my soup... not anything. "So?" he prodded gently, trying to meet my eyes. "So?" Kevin asked.

"I m here, aren t I?" I mumbled, blinking back tears. He stopped walking and reached his hands out on my shoulders, stopping and stead ying me. "Karen..." I could still only see my own sad face reflected in his sung lasses. "I m sorry," he said at last, pulling me into a hug. I let him hug me, and when he pulled away he kept an arm around my shoulders as we walked. "Are you okay?" I thought about it. "How are you going to get her back?" I asked at last. "I don t know." "You don t think it s weird that she s only talking to you now that you have a girlfri end?" "It s not like that," he said quietly. "She s not like that." I nodded and let it go. "Are you okay?" Kevin repeated. The sun was shining brightly. The trees along the sidewalk didn t provide enough s hade and they were spread out between such large intervals that it was hard to c ool down for even a moment. "I still wish I d never met you," I confessed. "I m not saying it to hurt your feeli ngs, because I do like you, but... things were easier before. I m just a student. I m not supposed to be part of your world. Being in both just... it makes everythi ng more complicated when all of this happened." "What, life happened? That s nobody s fault. You just deal with it, you accept it... " "No, this isn t life," I was quick to object. "This doesn t happen to everybody. You r e not life. Famous people don t want you to be their fake girlfriends. This is you y ou happened to me." "And now you hate me for it?" he asked quietly. Even though we were sort of figh ting, he still had his arm around me and we were still walking in step with each other. "No," I sighed. "I m just saying, it s not life." We walked together, both occupied by our own thoughts. "Why did you choose me?" Kevin questioned. "I wouldn t be mad if you chose him, if that s what you really wanted." I shrugged, leaning against him and picking at a fingernail as we walked. "I gue ss... I don t need him. I like him, I do, but... I think if you weren t around my li fe would suck. Maybe things would be different if Rachel hadn t left, you know, be cause then I d already have her someone who..." I trailed off, unsure of where I was going or what I was trying to say. "Yeah, I know," he said. "It feels so weird without him," I continued. "Like I should be crying or someth ing, and I did, but I don t need him. I never really did. I feel like I could have

needed him, one day, but for now I guess I need you more." "Bad timing?" Kevin asked. "Really bad timing," I had to agree. I thought before that if you liked someone, and they liked you back, that would be it. You would just be together. It never occurred to me that two people could like each other and it wouldn t be enough. N othing should stand in their way, but it does. Me and Lucas, Kevin and Eva... we were all victims of it, obstacles beyond our control. "I just liked being with him. Things were easy with Lucas," I said. "He was nice , and he was warm, and just... they were easy." "That s why you were with him? Because it was easy?" he asked skeptically. I shrugged. That wasn t it, not at all, but also... it kind of was. "I don t think it s supposed to be easy, though," he said. "It s... something you work at. It s challenging, you know?" "Was it like that with Eva?" "Yeah." "Well, you guys didn t work out either. Just sayin ." "Thanks," he said sarcastically. "I forgot that." "I know. That s why I said it." I grinned when Kevin groaned. "You know, Joe says it more now? Just when we thou ght he was getting sick of it, you come along." I smiled. I hadn t spoken to Joe since he d helped me on Monday, but I knew I still owed him one. Two, actually. He reminded me each time we emailed which wasn t a lot, but my sending him the paper had started off our email correspondence. The emai ls were short and contained nothing of substance, but it was fun to have somethi ng in my inbox other than automated notifications every time a professor posted lecture slides online. "So," I said, pausing at a corner. "How many calories do you think we ve burned?" "You mean... in the half hour we ve been walking at this moderate pace?" "Yes." "Like... a hundred. If that." "Want to go to the car and go get donuts anyway?" "Absolutely," Kevin laughed. We turned around and, at a slightly faster pace tha n we d been walking before, headed for his car. "Imagine how lame we d look if they saw that we drove here," he said, unlocking the car door. As I got inside, I laughed, though absent-mindedly, because I was imagining a di fferent scenario: Suppose he did get back together with Eva? What would become o f us? Don t let the days go by... Glycerine

It was, according to my mp3 player (am I the only one without an iPod? I feel li ke I am), the sixteenth time I had listened to that song that morning. Since I h ad woken up, I had laid in bed, headphones on, listening to my generic non-iPod and feeling sorry for myself. I had done nothing but breathe in the slightly mus ty scent of my pillowcase with the covers pulled up nearly over my head, and dwe ll upon my life. It was a Saturday morning. The sun was shining (I assumed. The curtains were clo sed) and I was completely alone. Rachel was off getting a degree in fabulosity. Lucas was three floors above me, probably writing the next great American novel and not giving me a second thought. Me, the girl who let him go because she need ed another more. Kevin was... I don t know what he was doing. Lying in bed, maybe. Thinking of Eva. Trying to get her back. And then he ll be rid of me. Hell, even Molly didn t come home last night. And the worst part of it all was... After sixteen no, seventeen listens, I still had no fucking idea what the hell the s ong meant. The lyrics made no sense. What the hell is glycerine? Why does it need a song wr itten about it? You don t write emotional songs about chemistry. I sighed as Gavin Rossdale sang on about fucking depressed scientific molecules. I didn t want to be a depressed molecule. And I didn t have to be. I tossed the covers off of me with determination. I had to do some reading. Toda y I would go to the library and read for my classes, especially since I d been neg lecting it for the past few days. Swinging my legs over the bed, I got up and sat down at my desk in front of my l aptop. I turned it on and began gathering my books together while it loaded. I w as behind in nearly everything, so my task was to fit seven books, a notebook, a nd my folder into my backpack. Dammit, this is why I should have played with Legos when I was in kindergarten. While all the other kids learned how to fit things together (and probably grew o n to become engineers, damn them), I was in the back of the class helping the ro om mother unbox graham crackers and apple juice. I was too young to know about s ucking up; I actually did intend on playing with the Legos whenever the teacher took them out, but then out of the corner of my eye I would see the room mother slowly make her way to the food shelf, and after that I was a goner. (By the way, the room mother didn t like me very much. I think my constant hoverin g annoyed her.) It turned out that I didn t need any Lego-ing skill after all because I got all th e books to fit. My backpack was now misshapen and lumpy, and I didn t see how I wo uld be able to carry it on my back for the ten-minute walk to the library, but I proved to that room mother that I most certainly did not need to go play Lego wi th all the other normal kids. Also, graham crackers and apple juice made for a sh

itty snack. Absolutely no protein. That bitch. With that accomplished, I turned back to my computer. There was an e-mail from J oe. Our e-mails truly were about absolutely nothing, but they were fun. We don t t alk about our days and we kept the talk about ourselves to a minimum, so they we re fairly impersonal and we actually did talk about nothing. Sometimes he linked me to videos he found funny, and it was then I learned we had the same sense of humor by which I mean we were both kind of twisted. Twisted is good. The latest e-mail read: No, beef jerky s definitely the manliest food there is. Don t disagree with me. You ll just lose. I didn t know the thing about some people not having the gene to taste cilantro. T hat s cool I guess. And by cool I mean it s geeky that you know that. Haha I m on set right now and Nick s doing a scene and he fell down. And he is pisse d. Also, you still owe me two. I smiled. I checked the time the e-mail was sent and saw he d sent it about fiftee n minutes ago, so I decided not to reply right away. Our e-mails were usually be tween intervals of half a day. He was probably actually busy doing things and th at was why it took him several hours to get back to me, but I kept up the appear ance of being busy by wasting time. So it worked. After showering and eating breakfast, me and my shapeless, two-ton backpack head ed for the library. You know that scene in The Breakfast Club at the end, when Bender raises his fis t in the air? I wanted to do that as I left the library. I didn t, because that would have been weird, but I wanted to so badly. I had done most of my reading. "Most of" doesn t sound that amazing, but the reading didn t get finished because I was too busy wri ting my Poli Sci paper. And that s not even due for another two weeks. I did most of my reading and wrote my entire paper in a four-hour sitting. Go Karen. I pulled my phone out of my pocket to see if anyone called while I was in the li brary being awesome. Pleased to see a missed call from Rachel, I called her back after taking my phone off of the silent setting. Holding the phone to my ear, I waited for the call to go through as I approached the edge of campus, keeping my mind occupied with thoughts of my amazingness. I decided my mission would be to make sure that today stayed as legendary as it h ad been so far. Finally it started ringing. I wondered what could make this day even better. Spy ing Broc s Ice Cream Palace across the street, I realized that of course ice cream makes everything better. When I crossed the street, the phone was still ringing in my ear, until finally it stopped and her answering message took over. That w as perfectly okay it still wouldn t get me down. I was far too busy being wonderful in all aspects of life (okay, one) to care. I hung up and stopped at a bench jus t outside Broc s the very bench on which Kevin and I had sat, eating ice cream and d iscussing our deal to set my backpack down and rummage through it for my wallet. It was a daunting task, searching through the depths of my incredibly full backp ack. Even more daunting was the realization that I had left my wallet in my dorm

room because I hadn t planned on buying anything in the library. That was okay. It made me feel a little pathetic, knowing that I would be willin g to walk to my dorm, get my wallet, walk back to Broc s and eat ice cream alone, but I could live with that. I ve done worse. I still felt like talking to someone, so I called Kevin. As I roughly zipped up my backpack, not caring how lumpy it appeared, I listened to it ring and ring... and ring. Fine, Kevin. If you don t want to celebrate the amazingness that is your fake girl friend, you don t have to. Enjoy your solitude. Walking in the streets on the way to my dorm, my thoughts turned to Joe. Sometim es when I m bored, or when something has happened that I want to tell him about, I find myself composing my e-mails to him in my head. Today he would definitely h ear of my conquering the library I mean, he d read about it. Or maybe he would hear it. Feeling adventurous, I reached into my pocket for my phone, for the third time i n five minutes, and went through my phone s history. I don t know why but I hadn t add ed him to my phone book, I suppose because after our one and only phone conversa tion I hadn t expected I d ever need to use his phone number again. I finally found it, a record of the three-hour phone call from last Monday night , and I called it. What the hell, right? If I was going to get ignored today, I was going to get ignored by everybody. As the phone rang, I wasn t sure whether or not I wanted him to answer. I was feel ing nervous: e-mailing we could obviously do, but this was the first time I d ever called him, and he d only ever called me once before, so "Hello?" I paused, just outside my building. I didn t want to go inside and lose the call o n the elevator, which my phone always does, before I d even explained myself. That would be awkward times two. "Hi," I said dumbly. I chose to sit on a patch of grass in the central courtyard outside my building. Not willing to endure one more second of unnecessary back pain, I took my backpack off and set it next to me. "What are you doing?" I alwa ys tend to ask that when I call people. I m always worried that if I don t ask it, I l l find out ten minutes in that they re performing open heart surgery or something and they were only on the phone talking to me to be polite. I like to know their availability status right away. "That depends," he said. "Do you want the full description or do you want the gi st?" "The full description." "I am standing in front of the fridge, trying to decide if I like avocado enough to put it on my sandwich, scratching my left ankle with my right toe, and think ing about who plays that one song Eye of the Tiger. " I laughed. It would have been perfect if I could have told him who played that s ong, but sadly I didn t know myself. It was then, of course, that I remembered how horrible I was at small talk, so my next question was a real gem: "What s on your sandwich?"

Yep, of course I ll ask about the food. If he thought it was weird, he didn t show it. "I don t know yet. I m still thinking a bout it." "I see." Hello, awkward pause. Nice of you to join us. "So " I began. "Wha " Joe said at the same time. More awkwardness ensued as we tried to politely sort that one out. I don t know wh y it s such a big deal when two people speak at the same time on the phone. If I k now the person well enough, I know their style for when things like this happen. With Kevin, I know he ll always stop and let me speak, so I just keep on talking. With Rachel it s the opposite. With Joe, it was our first time with this happenin g, so we had to do this little dance: "Sorry," I said. "No, it s okay. What were you going to say?" "Nothing. What were you going to say?" "Nothing, I was just going to ask you what s up." "Oh." "Yeah." "Um..." Nervously I tried to think about what was up. Then I recalled my amazing library adventure and told him the tale. I was just going to summarize it at fi rst, but he sounded so interested that I expanded it to a full-blown anecdote, c omplete with my musings and theories about the people who were studying at the t ables next to mine. From there, the conversation flowed a little better. Joe told me how he d gotten u p early to spend the morning on set (I knew only a little about the TV show. Kev in didn t say much about it. I always thought it was kind of weird that they d decid e to have a TV show, like the opposite of television stars becoming singers, but whatever, Jonas Brothers) and had just gotten home because it was a half-day. A nd then he talked about how he had decided he wanted something to eat, which bro ught us back to his being in the kitchen trying to decide how he felt about avoc ado. "Have you come to a decision yet?" I asked. "I think I only like it when it s mushy. In restaurants." "Okay," I said, for lack of an intelligent reply. Also because I think avocado i s delicious all the time, so I decided it was best to bite my tongue and refrain from calling him a culinary imbecile. "What did you have for lunch?" he asked after another fun pause. This was sad. The conversation was dying. We were resorting to discussing meals. While food can be a very fun subject to discuss, I don t think recaps of everythi

ng you ve eaten falls into that fun category. "Nothing yet. I was gonna go get ice cream." I expected him to laugh at my unhealthy ways, but he didn t. "I want ice cream for lunch." "You can have anything you want," I replied stupidly. I then realized a much bet ter, smoother response would have been, "Care to join me, stud?" Since he hadn t y et said anything, I figured I was still in the time window in which to say somet hing like that, so I added, "Do you want to get ice cream with me? I do owe you. " I bit my lip and destroyed a blade of grass with my thumbnail waiting for an ans wer. "Really?" "Yeah. There s an awesome ice cream place across the street from my dorm." More li p-biting. It was strange how badly I wanted him to say yes. "Okay. Let s have ice cream for lunch!" He said it like it was such a forbidden th ing to do. I smiled. "Okay!" We briefly discussed the place s address and location, and then he said he d be ther e in half an hour and we hung up. I spent most of that half hour in my room, trying to figure out what to do. I di dn t think make-up was really necessary, since he d seen me without it the night we had our Donkey Kong bonding, and then he d seen me the next morning when I d looked like crap after getting four hours of sleep. But still. This was Joe Jonas, who probably sparkled all the time, so I d be damned if I looked like ass next to him. I figured he d judge me if I did. I began to put on a little eyeliner to make mys elf look halfway decent, and then I stopped myself. Because the thing was, I (kind of) knew him now. He didn t sparkle. When he woke u p in the morning he looked normal. He gets tired. He gets bags under his eyes. H uman. Why was I doing this? He was just Joe. A Jonas Brother, like Kevin. I didn t care how I looked in front of Kevin, so why should Joe be any different? As I licked a Q-Tip and started wiping the eyeliner out from under my eyes, more thoughts popped into my brain: True, but Kevin was Kevin. With Joe it was diffe rent. I don t know why, but it was. Tossing the Q-Tip aside, I grabbed the eyeliner to retrace what I d just erased, b ut another notion came to me did I like Joe? Hadn t I just gotten out of a relations hip with Lucas? Was I even over Lucas? How do you know if you like someone? I met my eyes in the mirror. Why hello confusion. I finished the eyeliner because I d already started and it would look lopsided if I didn t, but I didn t put on anything else.

With all these questions swarming around in my head, I was a nervous wreck when

I met Joe outside Broc s Ice Cream Palace. He had parked across the street. I couldn t tell it was him by the car it was nice, certainly nicer than what most kids here had, but it just looked like a normal c ar but when he stepped out of it and put sunglasses on like he was in Top Gun or s omething, I knew it was him. I stood up as he looked both ways before (illegally ) crossing the street. What a rebel. "Doesn t really look like a palace," he commented, greeting me with a grin. The wi nd caused his hair to move a little. I think I liked it better when the wind was blowing it. At least then it looked normal. I looked behind me at the hole-in-the-wall-esque store, squeezed between a Thai restaurant and a donut shop. No, it certainly didn t look like anything special. "It tastes like one," I assured him, leading the way to the entrance. "It tastes like metal?" Joe stepped inside after I did. The cool air and the swe et, subtle scent of ice cream welcomed us. "What?" I laughed. "You think a palace tastes like metal?" We stood in the back, the best distance from which to view the massive menu abov e. I already had the menu memorized, and I could probably name all forty flavors better than I could the fifty states, but I knew Joe was a virgin to this place , so I let him take his time. Shrugging as he stared at the menu, Joe distractedly said, "You know, since it s f ull of gold coins and shit." I wondered if he was imagining the palace in Aladdin. The guy at the cash register looked expectantly at us, but Joe remained captivat ed by the menu. "You know what you want yet?" I asked to hurry things along. "I m just..." He paused, squinting at the menu. "I m looking to see if they have cho colate marshmallow." Taken aback, I said, "No, they don t. Because it doesn t exist. I think you re thinkin g of rocky road. Rocky road s the one with " "I know what rocky road is," he quickly replied. Jeez. Testy. "It has nuts. Choc olate marshmallow doesn t." "Oh." I turned my head to face him. "Are you allergic?" He looked at me. I could just barely make out his eyes through the lens of his s unglasses. "No. They just get in the way." "Of... what?" "Life," he answered simply. Before I could laugh at his non-sequitur ways, he as ked, "Do you know what you want?" "Psh. Always." I never get the same thing twice, and I haven t yet tried all forty flavors, so my strategy is to get one scoop of something I haven t tried on top o f a scoop of something I know I like. That way, if the first one turns out to be a bust, I can just knock the scoop over and bam, hello loyal favorite.

Maybe if I was as organized about my classes as I am about ice cream, I d be doing better in school. Joe walked to the register and asked, "Can I have two scoops of rocky road in a cup, please?" Lame. Who orders two scoops of the same flavor? And in a cup, no less? I set my judgement aside and ordered, pulling out my wallet to pay for the both of us and telling Joe, "This is one." "Now you just owe me one more," he said, and I nodded as I received my change an d receipt. We stood together in silence, watching the guy get our orders, and wh en we were both holding our ice cream, Joe turned to look at me, as if to ask, N ow where? I looked outside. The bench was now taken by two people making out. I don t even t hink they were customers of Broc s. Those affectionate bastards. "Um..." I wasn t used to leading the way, but he was still looking at me expectant ly, holding his stupid cup of ice cream. "Okay," I said decisively, "uh, follow me." "Ooh," I heard him say behind me as we walked out of Broc s. I don t know why he sou nded excited. We weren t going on an adventure. Calm yourself down, Joe. I led him across the street and to the central courtyard outside my dorm buildin g. There was a wooden platform, raised about a foot off the ground, that was att ached to a bike rack. I don t know what the platform s purpose was, but it was about the size of my dorm room. Just... wooden and unfurnished. Sometimes people woul d come here to smoke and that would ruin it, but luckily today it was empty. "Is that your where your dorm is?" he asked, pointing to my building. I nodded and, since he wasn t moving, sat down on the platform, leaning my back ag ainst the wall it shared with the bike rack. Joe shrugged and joined me, choosin g to sit across from me. For a few minutes we tended to our ice cream in silence (I could now cross pinea pple macadamia off my list of untried ice cream flavors and move it to the list of favorites. Go Broc s). I looked at Joe, wondering if I should start some conver sation, and saw he was preoccupied with his own weirdness. While I d been eating my ice cream like a normal person, Joe had been destroying t he lovely domed shape of his ice cream scoops with his plastic spoon, and he was now using it to stir the ice cream together, softening it. "What are you doing?" He shrugged, not looking up from his stirring. "I like soft serve." I couldn t think of a polite response. "You re weird." "You re weird." "Your mom s weird." "Your face is weird."

"Your... dog is weird," I shot back lamely. Did he have a dog? Joe just laughed. He brought an unnaturally soft spoonful of ice cream to his mo uth and made a face as he chewed. "What?" I asked. How dare he make faces at the taste of Broc s Ice Cream. "This is why I don t like rocky road," he said. "Nuts and ice cream don t mix. You s houldn t have to chew any part of your ice cream. It should just... dissolve in yo ur mouth. In an orgy of happiness." I laughed. Licking contemplatively at my cone, I asked, "Is that why you turn yo ur ice cream into soft serve? Because you re too lazy to chew?" Smiling, he replied, "That s exactly why." He ate some more. "It s good, though," he said. "I mean, for rocky road." "Sorry you couldn t have your non-existent flavor, Joe." "It exists. Eat my nuts." I almost spat out my ice cream. "What?" I then saw that he was holding up a spoo nful of ice cream-covered almonds. Oh. So he really did want me to eat his nuts. Trying to downplay my outburst, I took the spoon and... well, I ate his nuts. A nd they were tasty. "Got your mind in the gutter there?" he asked, smirking. "No," I said lamely. He just gave me a knowing smile. We settled back into an eating silence, every n ow and then Joe handing me a spoonful of the almonds he d picked out of his ice cr eam. I still couldn t get over his weirdness. At one point my phone vibrated I guess I hadn t switched it to normal mode as I d thou ght and I saw it was Kevin, calling me back. Before I knew what I was doing, I sil enced the call. Joe looked at me with mild interest. "Text message," I lied. He nodded and the eating silence began again. "Hey," he said suddenly. I looked up at him and saw he d taken his sunglasses off. I don t know when this happened, but I could now clearly see his eyes, half-lidde d in contentment as he ate a spoon of ice cream. "What?" "Is this where you were sitting, trying to read, and then a guy came and started smoking?" I hesitated, not because I didn t remember but because I was surprised that he rem embered. I d mentioned it in an e-mail because at the time I was pissed that there was no place for me to get any reading done. "Yeah." "Cool," he said. I nodded. Some ice cream from my cone dripped down onto my fingers and I turned my attention back to my ice cream.

"See, that doesn t happen if you get a cup," Joe commented, watching as I wiped at my fingers and the side of the cone with a napkin. "Shut up." He laughed. "What are you going to do after this?" I hadn t really thought about it. Usually on Saturday afternoons I m either in my ro om or in the room of another bored floormate. "I don t know," I answered. "My roommate s not..." As I was talking the wind had blown my hair in my face. Almost instinctively, Jo e leaned over and reached for the strands of rebellious hair, as if to tuck them behind my ear, but then he froze like he d just realized what he was doing. Our eye s met and remained locked for a few seconds, Joe s fingers almost touching the sid e of my face, completely motionless. My heart began beating faster as Joe and I stared at each other. Joe slowly retracted his hand, going back to stirring his ice cream, even though he d stopped stirring it long ago. He was now turning it from soft-serve to soup. I pensively licked at my cone. Because the thing was, when Joe and I were caught in that odd time-freeze, the only thing I was thinking was, I wouldn t mind if yo u kissed me right now. I think I like Joe. Shit just got a lot more complicated. "You re quiet." I stopped chewing on my thumbnail and shifted my gaze from the car window to fac e Kevin, next to me at the wheel. He was right, I hadn t said much in the ten minu tes we d been in the car together, and for good reason. I kept thinking about Joe. Not in that way. (Okay, so part of me was and had for days been thinking about h im in that way. I had accepted that, and in fact reserved a time for just as all I was falling asleep, during which all I did was think about him in that way.) But what was currently occupying my mind was, what do I tell Kevin about Joe? Be fore, with Lucas, I had told Kevin everything, each step of the way but this time it was different. It was his brother. His brother who believed I was dating Kevi n. Not "believed" as in the way Lucas believed it, a fabrication of the mind hea vily influenced by the media (and, okay, how we acted around the media) but as f ar as Joe was concerned, I really was dating Kevin because that was what we had told him. And, tossing that pickle aside for the moment, what do I do about Joe, period? W as I to come clean about Kevin or do I keep up the facade? In a situation like t his, where do my loyalties lie? To the Jonas who has kind of become my best frie nd here in LA, or to the Jonas who I don t know very well but can t get out of my mi nd? I was left with several enormous pickles. And I was too perplexed to even consid er that a vaguely dirty thought. "Yeah." I shrugged. "So?"

"What s up?" "Nothing." I may have said it a little too defensively. "What s up with you?" "Nothing." "Okay then." I turned back to the window. My thumb found its way back into my mo uth and I once more began to chew absent-mindedly. "Except..." Glancing over at Kevin, I asked, "Huh?" I wasn t used to him volunteering informat ion. That was my thing. "Sorry," he quickly said, "it s just that you re the only one who knows about Eva an d now that I ve told you about her, you re the only person I can talk to about this stuff." "No, it s fine," I assured him. Shit, I d been so involved in my life that I d complet ely forgotten to press for details about his. All my dormant curiosity came back to me. "Anything new going on with Eva?" He loudly exhaled and then drummed his fingers on the wheel. "Uh... we saw a mov ie the other day." "How was that?" Kevin shrugged. Scratching at one of his sideburns he answered, "Kind of weird, I guess. It s not like we could actually go to the movies, so I went to her apartm ent. We sat on her couch and watched the movie." "Oh." I wasn t sure what else to say. It sounded kind of boring. "That s it?" "Well..." " Well ?" I raised my eyebrows. "We didn t kiss or anything, so stop looking at me like that. We were sitting clos e, I guess. Like, my arm wasn t around her but she was leaning against me. It was nice." "So... that s it? That s all you did? You went to her apartment, watched a movie, an d leaned?" "Well what do you expect?" he asked defensively, confusion in his eyes. "God, Kevin, you guys have some serious shit to talk through. You might want to start with that." Who knew I d be giving relationship advice. I wouldn t trust my ad vice, that s for certain. "How do you start with that? So, Eva, I think you have a fake boyfriend. But it s o kay because I have a fake girlfriend! Wanna go out? Again? No," he resounded, "sh e already rejected me. If she wants me and I know she does she s going to have to say so herself." "That s your plan." "Yes."

"To sit around waiting, hoping one day she ll suddenly notice you." As we had paused at a stop sign, Kevin took the moment to give me a look. "She n otices me," he insisted. "It s a matter of getting her to admit it." "Okay," I said, raising my hands in defeat. "She notices you. And I m chained to y our side until she does. Great." "You don t have to do anything. If you don t want to do this " "We made a deal," I reminded him, looking down at my nails. He was silent for a moment. "What are you getting out of it?" he asked quietly. I shrugged, but I knew the answer: Kevin. I was getting Kevin out of it. I d wonde red before, what if we break up? Do we continue being friends or was that it bet ween us? I knew Kevin wasn t the type to abandon people, so he would try to keep i n touch, but after a while our friendship was bound to fade. With this fake rela tionship, we had a reason to see each other on a regular basis. But there was no thing to hold us together after that. We had very little in common, Kevin and I. We were two people from two different worlds, shoved together by circumstance a nd a half-assed plan. Kevin kept looking at me. I wanted to tell him to wipe that half-guilty, half-sy mpathetic look off his face because he had no idea what was going on between his brother and me. Well, in actuality very little had gone on. After we shared that awkward moment while eating ice cream, we finished our ice cream and parted ways. I thought something between us had been screwed up so later that evening I called him. I decided that if he didn t answer, I would take that as a sign and stop pressing whatever was going on between us. But he answered. We didn t mention the moment of awkwardness, but I think we both knew something ha d changed. We kept up our e-mails but they were a little more personal. We d gradu ated from making distant observations to talking about our days, sometimes shari ng random stories from our days or our pasts. And now, today, I was excited to s ee him. Today s event wasn t for the media but for Kevin s family. Technically the event was a get-together celebrating that they d finished filming the first season of their d amn TV show, so it wasn t actually family-related, but I was coming to keep up app earances to his family because they d be there and they d expect Kevin would want to invite his "girlfriend." We rode the rest of the way in silence. Kevin pulled up to the parking lot of a large park I d never seen before. There wa s a large crowd of people already there, and as I stepped out of the car I could smell smoke from the barbeque. Some people were gathered around the barbeque gr ill, a few kids were playing on the playground, and most were scattered around t he park. I scanned the crowd some sat on blankets, others at the picnic tables, an d others stood around talking looking for Joe, as if somehow I could spot him out of the many people there. I couldn t. Still, though, just in case he could spot me , I tugged at my shirt self-consciously. As Kevin and I walked together on the grass toward the people, my heart started

pounding, and by the time we reached a table where Nick sat, texting away, I cou ld feel that I was blushing. It was frustrating, knowing Joe was here but not kn owing where. Nick looked up just then, setting his phone down on the picnic table. He squinte d a little at me. Nick, this blush isn t for you, alright? It s for your brother. Bu t not the one you think. Be cool. "Hey," he said, addressing the both of us. While he and Kevin chatted briefly about the whereabouts of some people whose na mes were not Joe, I casually (I hoped) glanced around the park again. When Nick s phone buzzed again, he went back to his texting, leaving Kevin and I t o excuse ourselves and walk around some more. "You hungry?" he asked. I gave him a look and we both started laughing. It had become a joke now, for on e to ask the other person if they were hungry, because there was never a time wh en we weren t. Kevin grabbed two plates, handing one to me, and we stood on opposite sides of t he picnic table with food spread out on it. Some of it was store-bought, some ho memade, so there was a funny mix of open Tupperware containers and professionallooking boxes. We went down the long picnic table in silence. Food was serious business. I scooped some macaroni and cheese from my side of the table onto Kevin s plate be fore putting some on my own (unfortunately the mac and cheese was store-bought, but I have no standards so it was okay). He put baked beans on both of our plate s. We both sidled right past the salad (shafted) and worked on piling food on ou r own and each other s plates. When we reached a fruit bowl I put a small cluster of grapes on his plate. He was not amused. "There are so many people here," I commented as we stood in line for the hamburg ers, being flipped by... a band member. I d been introduced to him once before and I d seen him a couple of times since but I forgot his name five minutes after he introduced himself so I tried to avoid ever saying his name. I just knew him as the guy with the hair. "A lot of work goes into making a TV show," he replied, dropping the cluster of grapes from his plate onto mine with a small exhale of disgust. "Do you know everybody here?" I looked around again. I wondered where Joe was an d if he could see me. I stood up a little straighter. "Most." He stabbed some mac and cheese with his fork and took a bite. "I know like ten people. If that." "Don t worry about it, you have me." And then: "Ugh, get this disgusting orphan gr ape off my plate." As I was teasing Kevin about his weird hatred of fruit, the person getting serve d at the barbeque grill walked off and we found ourselves at the head of the lin e. "Hey Kevin. Hey Karen," the guy with the hair said with a smile.

Oh, you think you re so superior, using my name because I don t know yours. Damn you , guy with the hair. Damn you and your remembering ways. "Hey... How are you?" I asked in an attempt to cover up that I hadn t said his nam e. "Pretty good, no complaints." He scooped a burger on to my open bun. "How s UCLA?" Jesus, dude, I get it, you fucking remember things. "Good, thanks. How s... life?" Guy with the hair laughed, sliding a burger onto Kevin s plate. "Life s treating me well." I laughed, mostly to fill the silence. Kevin laughed as well, though I knew he w as laughing at me. Guy with the hair forced a laugh because Kevin and I were bot h laughing. It was pretty awkward. Kevin was laughing even harder as we walked toward a picnic table. "You really c annot socialize." I sighed darkly and we reached the table. "Karen, this is Mary," Kevin said, gesturing to the blonde girl sitting across f rom me. She smiled at me and opened her mouth to say something but Kevin wasn t do ne. "She s an extra on the show. This is one of our camera operators Ted, who s Mary s uncle funny story, actually." Ted opened his mouth, presumably to begin telling t he funny story, but Kevin wasn t done. "That s Jeffrey sitting next to you he s an old f riend and next to him is another old friend, Ashley, and next to her is some guy. Guys, this is my girlfriend Karen." Pleased with himself, Kevin sat down to eat. Everyone smiled at me in some way even Some Guy, who I was pretty sure was a bum an d I smiled back, hoping they didn t realize that with Kevin s quick introductions I d forgotten all of their names (except for Some Guy s). As someone engaged Kevin in conversation, I looked up, intending to ask whatsher face and whatshisface about the funny story Kevin had alluded to, but then I saw Joe. He was sitting at a table in the far off distance, laughing and talking to the group of people he was sitting with. He noticed me looking and gave me a no d in recognition. I wasn t sure whether it meant Hey, let s hook up later or With th is nod I here fore acknowledge your existence. Whatever it meant, the blush and the pounding heart started happening again and I looked down at my plate and started eating. It felt strange now, knowing where he was and that he could be watching me right this moment. I tried to concentra te on not looking completely savage as I usually did when I ate. Others around m e engaged in conversation, but I didn t pay attention to any of it. Every so often I would quickly glance up to see what he was doing. He was always either eating or talking. Sometimes both at the same time. Riveting. When I looked up again, I noticed he was looking intensely in my direction. Thin king he was looking at me, I stared directly at him, but I then realized he was staring at something past me. I turned around, seeing nothing out of the ordinar y. While chewing on my hamburger, I glanced at Kevin and saw him looking past me in the same trance-y way. What the hell? I was able to meet Kevin s eyes. He raised his eyebrows and then subtly nodded his head in my general direction. I turned around again and still saw nothing out o f the ordinary. I turned back to him, confused, but his eyes insisted that I loo

k again. I did. I scanned the crowd, looking at each person. It was then that I realized someone looking a little lost. She tucked a piece of wavy dark brown hair behind her ear, appearing to be looking for someone. Almost self-consciously she cross ed one arm over her stomach and stroked her bottom lip with her thumb, then drop ped her arm and tugged uncomfortably at the hem of her white T-shirt. It was Eva. After Kevin had spread his legs about her, the first thing I did was Google "Kev in Jonas Eva" to see what came up. The same four or five pictures circulated the internet, but from them I had concluded she was a beautiful brunette who dresse d like a normal human being, not like she was the girlfriend of a celebrity. Eve n now, she was in jeans and sneakers. I turned to Kevin, raising my eyebrows at him, silently asking if he d invited her here. Still looking a little stunned, he shook his head. Slowly he stood up and walked toward her. My back was to them, and I didn t want t o seem weird by turning around and staring, so I picked at the baked beans on my plate. The other people at the table didn t seem to notice Kevin s random disappear ing act; they kept on talking and I kept on ignoring. "You gonna eat that?" Some Guy asked in a gruff voice, touching my ear of corn. Seriously, he reached across the table and touched it, as if I wouldn t have known what he was referring to had he just pointed at it like a normal person. Well, not anymore. I shook my head and he wrapped his grubby fingers around it, then put the corn i n the inside pocket of his frayed green jacket. One thing that San Francisco and LA have in common: weird-ass bums. I played with my food for a while, then looked back at Joe. He too was picking a t his food he was alone now. He looked up and our eyes locked. In my head I mulled over what to do, and at last I stood and slowly walked over to him. "Hi," I said, trying to ignore the blushy thing my cheeks were doing, and I sat next to him. I realize it would have been better to sit across from him, but thi s way I had a clear view of Kevin and Eva. They were both standing, talking abou t something. "Hey." I think he was still watching Kevin and Eva. To change the subject, I told him, "I have something for you." Joe stopped staring and looked at me. When our eyes met I had to look away. It s cared me for some reason. "Yeah? What?" I reached into my purse and pulled out my paper, the one I d written with his help over the phone. I handed it to him. "It s all yours." Joe took it and studied it. He was confused for a minute, but when his eyes flit ted down the page and he saw the references to Aeneas and Dido, he realized what it was. "Cool," he said, sounding a little awed.

"I got an A," I told him, pointing to the "27/30" written in blue ink at the top . "Twenty-seven out of thirty," he read aloud. "That s kind of arbitrary. Why twenty -seven? Why not twenty-six or twenty-eight?" "You ll have to take it up with her." He looked up from the paper to me. "Do you think she has a chart with thirty pie ces of criteria listed, and you missed out on three?" Smiling, I said, "I doubt it." He half-smiled back, lifting the corner of one side of his mouth in a really sex y way, and then studied the paper again. "There s a typo in the first sentence." "I know," I sighed. "In my defense, it was three in the morning." "I m hanging this on my wall and there s a typo in the first sentence. That ll be real ly nice. God, Karen, get your shit together. No wonder you missed out on three p oints." I laughed, but something he d said lingered in my mind. "You re hanging it on your w all?" "Hell yes," he confirmed, flipping the page. "This paper happened because of me. " "Good to know you re so modest." It was his turn to laugh. While he read through the paper, peering at the commen ts my TA had made, I glanced over at Kevin and Eva. They had sat down now, at a bench in a secluded area far off. I couldn t tell what was going on or being said. Joe noticed what I was looking at. Together we stared at Kevin and Eva talking. She nodded slowly as Kevin spoke, and then they both smiled a little. "What do you know about Eva?" I asked. Joe was taken aback. "You know about Eva?" "Yeah, I know who she is." I shrugged and said, "She s his ex. Do you know her?" "I met her a few times." In the distance, Eva was now talking. I think she s the k ind of person who uses their hands while they talk, because she was making all s orts of (meaningless, impossible to interpret) gestures. "What do you think about her?" Joe shrugged. "She s nice, I guess. Kind of shy. I don t know, we never really hung out." He paused. "Do you think it s weird that they re talking?" If I were actually Kevin s girlfriend, I probably would. "Do you?" "Yes," he said, firmly and without hesitation. We stared blatantly for a few more moments, and at last I shook my head. "So," I said, nudging Joe s leg with mine, "how s life?" He giggled when I nudged him. Seriously, he giggled. "Um..." His smile slowly di

sappeared as he grew thoughtful, like he was trying to decide what to tell me. " I don t know," he said with a simple shrug. "You don t know?" Joe smiled a little, though he appeared to be somewhat guarded now. "I just feel weird." "Why?" He gave me a quick, slightly self-conscious smile and shook his head. "I don t kno w. It ll pass. Forget it." Joe, we re never going to have an awesome heart-to-heart if you half-bring up shit and then tell me to forget it. "Okay then," I said, nodding slowly because, really, what the hell else can you sa y to something secretive like that? Joe put his hand on the bench next to mine. They touched by accident he almost pul led away at first but he didn t. Neither of us said a word, or even acknowledged tha t our hands were making out. (I say making out because I think hand-sex would in volve finger-intertwining, and as of yet none of that action was going down.) Ignoring Kevin and Eva, I looked around for the few other people I knew. Some Gu y was shoving a hot dog bun into his pocket. Nick was sitting exactly where we f ound him, still alone, still texting. "Hey," I said. Joe turned to me. Our faces were close. I had to look away. "What ever happened that night when Nick was out and your parents were looking for him ?" "He eventually answered his phone. He was, as predicted, out with his girlfriend ." I caught a tone of exasperation in his voice. We watched Nick watch his phone . "Do we approve of his girlfriend?" He laughed softly. "Yeah, I guess we do. The problem s not her. It s like... he s shut ting everybody else out." Nick picked up the phone again and began texting. "Do you know why?" "Yeah," he said reluctantly. "Our family s kind of going through..." I turned to him, waiting for him to continue, but he didn t. It was like he was ba ck in the trance from when he first saw Eva. I followed his gaze. Kevin and Eva were sitting, nearly frozen, their faces a little too close. They were either about to kiss or had just kissed. As they slowly pulled away farther and Kevin began looking around self-consciously, I realized it was the latter. As Kevin s friend I wanted to cheer. (I didn t. That would have seemed weird.) "Did you..." Joe murmured quietly. "Yeah."

"God, what the hell does he think he s doing?" As Joe began to rant, I wondered, h ow was I supposed to act? With anger? Betrayal? Shock? "I mean " Joe shut up and p ulled his hand away from next to mine. I looked at him and saw he was looking in another direction, and then I saw why: Kevin was headed straight toward us. Ever so subtly, Joe moved a couple inches over from me. "Hey Joe," Kevin said, looking distracted. "Karen, uh, can I talk to you?" "What about?" Joe asked suspiciously. "Does it have anything to do with Eva?" "Joe," Kevin said softly, tilting his head a little and looking at him with ques tioning eyes. "What? You know, I was just... wondering... I mean, it s been a while since we ve se en her, so I wondered..." He picked at something on the wooden table. "I was jus t..." "Wondering?" I finished. "Wondering," Joe repeated. He looked up at Kevin. I couldn t quite make out the ex pression on the faces of either of them. "She just came to say hi. Karen?" Kevin raised his eyebrows at me. I got the hin t. "Uh, yeah..." I stood up and looked uncomfortably at Joe, not sure what to say i n front of Kevin. I wanted to tell him, It was good seeing you today. I ll call yo u later. Also, marry me, but Kevin might get a little suspicious at that, so I p athetically said, "Uh... bye..." With the ellipses and everything. "Yeah," Joe said uncomfortably. "I ll " He paused and shifted his gaze to Kevin. " see you at home, Kevin," he finished pathetically. Kevin blinked. "Yes," he said. "I m sure you will." He looked at me and I shrugged , and then he started walking away. "Bye, Joe," Kevin said over his shoulder as I struggled to keep up with him. "So," Kevin said to me once we were inside his car. "So..." I repeated, turning to him in confusion. Without saying a word, Kevin started the engine and began to back out of the par king lot. After we d been driving for a few minutes, Kevin broke the silence: "I have no ide a what the hell I m doing," he confessed. I could have laughed. Arms crossed, staring straight ahead, I told him, "Well, d on t worry, you are not alone." He turned to me, an expression of surprise across his face. "Thanks," he said si ncerely. "That s really nice to hear." I was confused at first but then I realized he thought I meant You are not alone as in Because I m right there with you, pal! We ll get through this together! In ac tuality I had meant it like, Because I also have no idea what I m doing. Uh, with your brother, that is. And in life in general. "Any time," I said with a shrug. I liked his interpretation better.

"I mean..." Kevin quickly glanced into the rearview mirror and switched lanes. I waited patiently for him to speak again. My mother is impossible in that she ca nnot speak and drive at the same time, so I m used to long pauses in the car. "I c an t believe..." Then he started occupying himself with a driver who was taking up two lanes. "You can t believe..." I prodded, trying to hurry him along. Yes, I can be patient , but there s a limit. "That you guys kissed?" "You saw that?" he asked worriedly. "Yes." "Did Joe see?" I wasn t expecting that question and I wasn t expecting the answer I gave. "No." I f igured it would be easier this way; Kevin was freaked out enough as it was. I ha d Joe under control I could handle it. Kevin breathed a sigh of relief, then said, "What was I thinking? Kissing her ou tside in front of everybody..." "Why did you? Why did she come here?" "She heard about the party friend of a friend stuff and came because... she said she just wanted to see me." I could tell he liked the sound of the last part he d jus t said. "I just... I don t know what, or... I mean, how we re... what it..." He exha led loudly and chewed thoughtfully on his lower lip. "How do you feel about sush i?" "Okay," I said, my mouth half full, "so in my order of likeage, it goes... this one... this one... this one... this one..." As I spoke I pointed to the various types of sushi on the plates that just about covered our entire table and we bot h giggled as we realized the ridiculous amount of sushi we had ordered for ourse lves. "That s new," I commented when my finger landed upon a plate of untouched an d perfectly arranged sushi rolls. The green dollop of wasabi and the pink sliver of pickled ginger next to them were perfectly in place. "Yeah, the waiter brought it over a minute ago. I m pretty sure I asked for tea, b ut I can do more sushi." He grinned at me and popped a roll from the plate into his mouth. He then closed his eyes and chewed slowly, telling me with his mouth full, "This one s my new second favorite." "I don t think the hamachi will be too pleased to hear about it." Talking about it made me want one, so I reached over the table and picked one up. Kevin and I ha d a very sophisticated system of distinguishing which rolls were which and by soph isticated system I mean that as the waiter placed the plates on our table, namin g off each type as he went, we furiously scribbled the names onto napkins and th en went about putting the napkins on the plates. Oh, sushi. What you do to me. "So," Kevin said with a sigh after we had both had our fill of sushi. My eyes me t his and he smiled at me. "I missed this." "You missed what?" He shrugged. "Just hanging out. With food," he added, gently tapping a plate of leftover sushi. There was still so much on the table lots of plates still half-cov

ered in sushi rolls. When they pack up the leftovers, I intended to call dibs. O n all of them. "And without talks about a certain girl you re trying to get back?" I added. "Yeah," he said dismissively, "who needs her?" He gave a small laugh and then lo oked in the distance at nothing in particular, and I saw he was remembering that maybe he needed her. Shaking his head, he fixed his gaze on me and asked, "What s up with you?" "I have notes to go over and reading to do and I don t want to do it," I said, hal f-holding up the purse in my lap. "You brought notes and reading?" Sheepishly I reached into it and pulled out my poli sci notebook and a book for classics. "You brought notes and reading," Kevin said with a little laugh. "Do you want me to take you home so you can get started?" I wrinkled my nose and vigorously shook my head. "No." "Good, because I don t want to be alone." He said it while smiling, like it was no thing, but in his eyes I could see something more a sort of sadness, I think. "Can I help you with anything?" "You could give me all the leftovers." "Done," he said without skipping a beat, nodding his head once. "But I was talki ng more about your school stuff." I raised my eyebrows. "About my notes and my reading?" "Yep." "But I don t wanna," I whined pathetically. "If you don t do it now," he began, tracing invisible circles on the tabletop with his finger before looking back up at me innocently, "you re just going to feel ba d about yourself and fail at something else and I m going to have to try to make y ou feel better." I smiled at that. I liked that he knew and had accepted that with Rachel gone he was now my go-to person for... well, for everything. "Here?" I asked. We were in a restaurant, after all, and we d finished eating and I could tell the waiter was already hovering, waiting for a check signal of some sort. "Why not? There s food if we get hungry again " I laughed when he swept his arm acro ss the table to gesture at the half-eaten plates of sushi rolls "and we ll order som ething every half hour." I shook my head at him but consented, pulling my poli sci notebook out of my pur se. "Okay," I said, taking orange and yellow highlighters out of my purse. Sensi ng instructions coming, Kevin clasped his hands together on the table and leaned forward. I flipped to a page in the notebook. "So I had this awesome color-coor dinated highlighting system but then I fell off the bandwagon. Shut up," I added when Kevin began shaking his head in mock judgment. "When you see a cloud aroun

d something, that means it s a main topic, so you go over the cloud in an orange h ighlighter. When something s underlined, that means it s a subtopic, so you go over the underlined part in a yellow highlighter." "Someone s OCD." "OCD is a disorder, not an adjective." "Someone has OCD." I rolled my eyes and then began explaining my notes-in-the-margin system, which involves copying the parts of notes I d taken in discussion section that had an as terisk on them into the margins of my lecture notes, next to the appropriate und erlined subtopic. "Why would you do that?" Kevin laughed. "So all my notes are in one place." "You could have just written them in the margins in the first place." "But you don t know when you re writing it what s important and what s crap," I explaine d, looking at him seriously in the eyes. He shook his head somberly but his eyes were laughing. He took the pen and highl ighters I gave him and sat back in his seat while I opened my classics book. After a few minutes the waiter came buy and Kevin ordered a bowl of green tea ic e cream for us to share. Ordinarily, of course, we would not have shared because we are both firm believers in individual portions, but we were trying to stretc h the dining experience out for as long as possible and that would involve getti ng as many courses as possible. We both ate slowly from the tiny bowl of ice cream. I read, Kevin highlighted. S oon I found myself unable to concentrate. As I licked the light and creamy goodn ess off the spoon, I realized I was staring at the page but not at all reading i t. Without my knowing it, my mind had wandered. "Have you ever had chocolate marshmallow ice cream?" I asked aloud, going for an other spoonful. Kevin gave a small laugh. "No," he said emphatically. "Because it doesn t exist." Ah, I thought so. "You heard about it from Joe, didn t you?" I nodded. "It really doesn t exist? He swore by it." "He thinks it exists," Kevin clarified, setting the notebook down and going for the green tea ice cream. "So you know how my favorite s rocky road?" I nodded again. A decent choice, but a little too busy for my tastes. "Well, when we were little," Kevin started, setting the spoon down on his napkin , "our parents used to let us choose what flavor of ice cream we wanted you know, at the grocery store when you can buy it by the quart? I wanted rocky road and h e liked the chocolate and he liked the marshmallow but he had something against the nuts in it." I nodded thoughtfully. "What did Nick want?" I want to say vanilla. He seems lik e a very vanilla guy.

Kevin shrugged. "He was like two. Who cares." I laughed and he continued: "And J oe pulled a tantrum saying he wanted chocolate marshmallow. So I don t remember se eing the ice cream they bought, but all I know is, when my mom would scoop the i ce cream into bowls for us after dinner, I got rocky road and Joe got chocolate m arshmallow, " he said, using air quotes. "Except the ice cream in his bowl was all mushed around and there were no nuts in it." "They picked the nuts out?" I asked, incredulous. That s dedication to deception r ight there, Jonas Parents. I m a little proud. He nodded. "I m pretty sure that s why ft-serve style. It s weird." I smiled, Kevin added, "So he still argues that te marshmallow for him. My parents won out." he likes to mush his ice cream around now, so remembering how Joe had done just that, and they bought rocky road for me and chocola t say anything, but they so picked the nuts

"Interesting," I said at last. It really was. Poor Joe, being lied to his entire life. "He looked it up later and found a brand that makes it, but..." He narrowed his eyes and leaned in a little, like he was divulging a secret. "Our parents never bought that stuff." After a lull in the conversation had settled, Kevin pushed t he remaining ice cream towards me and said, "I m done with this" and went back to highlighting. I reopened my book, but I still couldn t concentrate. Instead, I found myself swir ling around the last scoop of ice cream, turning it into soft-serve mush. And on ly then did I eat it. "Do you think the sushi s still okay?" Kevin turned to face me. "Why wouldn t it be?" I wrinkled my nose as the stench of the alcohol on his breath hit me. We d carried through with our plan for a while, but then the bar opened and, finally surrend ering to the glares from our waiter, we moved over there. He d highlighted the not ebook to perfection and I had read most of what I was supposed to, so we sat at the bar and continued to waste more time, just because we liked ignoring the com plicated parts of our lives and as long as we stayed there in the restaurant we d be okay. Our sushi had been packed into Styrofoam containers and put in a bag, which had sat forlornly on the bar while Kevin experimented with the drink menu. As lame a s it sounds, I had chocolate milk. And that explains why I was driving while Kevin was slumped in the passenger sea t, fiddling with the fastened seat belt. "Because it s been sitting out for like five hours," I reminded him. "It gets better with age," he mumbled. "Really?" "Mm-hmm." It was interesting to discover that Kevin was a quiet, depressed kind of drunk. And by interesting I mean funny because Kevin never really lets himself get depr essed (or quiet, come to think of it), and if he does, he certainly doesn t show i t. I was also grateful to not have to deal with any stupid, drunken ramblings as

I had been subjected to listen to when some people on my floor decided to get d runk. It got a little sad to watch when he sighed loudly (sending more of that wonderf ul breath my way) and leaned against the windowpane. The only way it could have been more emo is if it were raining and he was watching the raindrops trickle do wn the glass. And if he was crying black tears. "What s wrong, Kevin?" I asked, if only to humor him for his loud sigh. "My life is wrong," he said dramatically. I know, I m a horrible person for finding that funny. I chose to let it go and instead concentrated on driving. Never having the luxur y of a car for transportation, I knew nothing about the streets of this area of LA. I d successfully managed to get us onto the highway, via Kevin s depressed direc tions, but I didn t know where I was going. "Take the next exit and keep right," he directed before I could even ask. "Perfect timing," I marveled in an upbeat way, I suppose just to counterbalance the total depression spiral he was on. "You could be a GPS." "It doesn t matter," he shrugged listlessly, still looking out the window. "I ll nev er be a GPS in love." I admit, I snorted at that one. "What?" he asked. "No, I m not laughing at you," I assured him (in a lying manner). "I m not," I said again, consciously removing the smile from my face and glancing over at him with what I hoped was a sincere expression. "It s just that what you said didn t make an y... sense." "My life doesn t make any sense," he sighed, averting his gaze to the window. Drunk Kevin, I love you so much. After some more depressed directions (with a few depressing comments thrown in), I successfully drove us to his home. As I unbuckled my seatbelt and grabbed the questionable sushi, I wondered how I would get home. I decided to focus on gett ing Drunk Kevin inside first. I figured one of the Jonases would be all, "Oh, Ka ren, you re such a doll. Let me give you a ride home. And some pizza crust." Excep t Nick, of course. I was beginning to think that little bastard didn t want to be my friend. "Can you walk?" I asked, opening Kevin s door. He stepped clumsily onto the pavement and shut the door. "I m intoxicated," he inf ormed me, staring blankly into my eyes. "Not handicapped." Almost as we reached the front door, he added, "But..." "I know, I know, you re handicapped when it comes to love. Where s your key?" "Whoa." Kevin stumbled backward, leaning against the wall, but kept looking at m e in awe. "How did you know that?" "Lucky guess. Where s your key?"

"Man, Karen, you get me," he marveled and then slowly his back began sliding down the wall. "No, don t sit down!" I struggled to hold him up but it was useless. "Kevin..." I sighed and bent down so we were at eye level. Resting my elbows on his knees, I asked slowly, "Where s your key?" He sighed and I wrinkled my nose at the scent of his breath. "Eva has it." Alrighty then. I shook my head and stood up, wondering what to do next. "The key to my heart, Karen," he drawled. "She has the key to my heart." "Yeah, that s great." Finally I just reached over and rang the doorbell. I was ple ased to know that the Jonases just had the classic ring and the doorbell didn t st art playing Beethoven. Or a Jonas Brothers song. I waited, and the door opened to reveal Nick. Nick! Hi, Nick! I m sorry I called you a bastard in my head before. Let s be friends . "Hey," he said to me, squinting a little in confusion. Then he heard Kevin sigh for like the fortieth time that evening and his eyes wandered to the corner of t he porch were Kevin was sitting, playing with a leaf. "Drunk Kevin!" Nick exclai med happily. "Dude, it s been so long since I ve seen you!" Opening the door wider, Nick stepped onto the porch and struggled to lift Kevin to his feet. "Hello, Nicholas Jonas," Kevin said formally, patting his brother s curls. Success ful in getting Kevin to stand up, Nick now gave me an amused glance, which I was happy to return. Look at that, Nick and I are bonding. We just shared a look. I m that much closer to conquering the Jonas brothers. "You can just call me Nick," he told Kevin with a soft chuckle. "Now let s get ins ide." Despite his depressing ways, Drunk Kevin was an excellent walker. He went up the stairs without needing any help save from holding on to the banister. As we wal ked I look for signs of their parents. I could hear their voices somewhere downs tairs, but it didn t seem like they noticed our presence. Nick and I followed him to his room. I turned the light on while Nick pushed asi de a corner of Kevin s comforter. Kevin willingly sat on the bed. Kicking off his shoes and then settling in the b ed, he looked up at us and said, "What would I do without you guys?" Nick shrugged. "Your life would suck." He nodded and, with one final loud sigh, laid back in bed. Nick and I shared another look of amusement and then quietly left the room, turn ing the light off on our way out. Standing there in the hall, he said, "Thanks f or driving him home." "No problem." I nodded, smiling.

"Do you have a ride home?" Aw, Nick, you do care about me! "No, I " "I can drive her." We both turned and saw Joe standing there in the hallway. He looked like he was heading for the bathroom from his room but had stopped when he found us in the h all. I tried to make eye contact with him but he was looking at Nick. "Yeah?" Nick looked at the both of us and I wasn t sure who he was Yeah-ing, but I nodded. If Joe wanted to drive me home, it was fine by me. Perfectly okie dokie . A-okay. Nodding, Nick put a hand on my arm and said, "See ya later" before retreating ba ck downstairs. I didn t want to be a fangirl but Nick just touched me. I was so cl ose to conquering the Jonas brothers. All we needed was maybe one more bonding e xperience. Then Joe and I were left alone. I wasn t sure what to do with myself. We made eye contact and I immediately broke it, looking down at the carpet. The hallway was dim at best, lit only by the glow from downstairs and light creeping out from th e crack where Joe s door was left open. The only sound was the laugh track from wh atever show Nick was watching downstairs. "Hi," I said when Joe stepped toward me. I gave him a small smile but he didn t re turn it. "What happened?" he asked, a touch of was that concern? in his voice. I then remembered the kiss we had witnessed between Kevin and Eva. "Oh," I said quietly, more to myself. "Did you guys..." Joe raised his eyebrows and looked at me seriously. I saw what he was asking. "Oh. No," I said, shaking my head. "We re still together." I tried to say it as ca sually as possible but it was hard to say anything when he was looking at me lik e that. His face twisted into one of confusion. "Why?" I hated that I was misleading him. "It s... complicated." "No, it s not," he said, frowning a little. "Yeah, it is," I told him quietly but firmly, looking him straight in the eye. He stared back, but he didn t say anything. Finally he shook his head. "Come on, y ou ready to go?" he asked tonelessly. I nodded. Joe turned around and began going down the stairs. I followed close be hind. "Are you mad at me?" I asked. "No." I waited at the foot of the stairs for Joe to get his keys from the coffee table

in the living room. I glanced over at Nick, sitting on the couch flipping chann els, clearly not interested in the conversation Joe and I were having. "Yes, you are." Joe nodded at Nick to " He opened the front d, he walked onto the aid, using his key to say goodbye, then turned around, keys in hand. "No, I m not. door and gestured for me to walk through first. After I di porch and shut the door behind him. "I m mad at Kevin," he s lock the door.

"Well... don t be," I said, unable to think of something else to say. Joe unlocked his car and together we walked toward it. I got in first and waited for him to come around to the other side. This was sure to be a delightful ride. The car was clean and it smelled pretty new. I set my five-hour old sushi on the floor and hoped it wouldn t stink it up. I m sure Joe would love that. He got in the car and shut the door. "I just don t know why you re with him." I didn t know how to respond. Did he mean he didn t know why I was with Kevin after he d kissed Eva, or just in general? Joe sat there, staring straight ahead. He hadn t made any move to start the car. T urning abruptly to me, he asked, "Do you love him?" Oh, crap. What the hell do I say to that? Especially since his eyes were fixated on me so intensely. Even though it was dark, though I could barely make out his face, his dark eyes were piercing through me. Flustering, I asked, "What?" "Kevin. Do you love him?" he repeated, saying each word slowly, never breaking h is gaze. "Are you in love with him?" "Why?" I must have sounded so stupid, but that was how I felt. I was trying to a void answering and he knew it. "It s none of your business." "It is my business." "Why?" I asked. Joe only blinked. "Because..." I continued, a little uncertain a t this point. "Because he s your brother, or..." I couldn t bring myself to say the alternative. "Or because..." Because you want a piece of this is what I would have said if I were brave. And/ or in a music video. Joe was no longer looking at me so intently. He looked away, then down at his ke ys, and as though he only then just remembered what they were for, he stuffed th em into the ignition and started the car. "Just because," he said quietly. Nothing more was said the entire car ride there. It felt so long and torturous. I couldn t stand the thought that something was somehow screwed up between Joe and I, and just because I couldn t tell him the truth. I really didn t want this night to lead to any more weirdness that might break whatever the hell it was that we had going for us. I liked our multiple e-mails often they were the only thing I lo oked forward to throughout the day, that if I had an hour between classes I coul d go to the library and read an e-mail from him and I liked our occasional phone c onversations. I liked him and his weird ways. He was becoming a fixture in my li

fe. And I didn t want to lose any of it. I didn t know if he could smell it, but I could the sushi, that is. It wasn t a bad sm ell, exactly, but it was definitely... fishy. While the main part of my mind was occupied with the Joe situation, a small corner of it was working on whether or not it would be acceptable to eat the sushi later. I was a college student, of course, and therefore my standards were considerably lower, but... were they tha t low? The car came to a slow stop when Joe parked on the street just outside my buildi ng. The doors unlocked. I didn t move. "What if..." I paused, wondering if I even knew where I was going with what I wa s about to say. I made up my mind and continued: "What if I wasn t in love with Ke vin?" Joe swallowed. "Then... you break up with him," he said slowly. "And if I can t?" "Karen!" he groaned in exasperation. After closing his eyes and momentarily rest ing the back of his head against the seat, he looked at me and said, "I like you . Okay? I do." It was coming. The but. "But..." He shook his head and looked at me helplessly. "I can t..." "Because I m your brother s girlfriend," I finished softly. He nodded, looking at me. He kept nodding. And kept looking. "And..." I continued, trying to ignore my racing heartbeat. "It..." "It would be wrong," Joe said so quietly it was almost a whisper. "Yeah," I breathed out. My heart felt like it was in my throat. Without knowing it, I was moving toward him. "Yeah," he repeated. But it was like on some level we both knew it was coming. Our faces were mere ce ntimeters apart by this point, and there was no way we could go back. I closed m y eyes and we kissed. It wasn t him kissing me, nor was it me kissing him. It was entirely mutual, like we were both gravitating to it, being pulled by something we couldn t control. The second our lips touched I knew it was wrong. But I lingered, gently sucking on his lip as the kiss ended. We stayed close, neither of us pulling away so far we could look into each other s eyes because I think we both knew that if we did so we d realize how wrong it was and we d have to pull away. So we didn t look, didn t s eparate enough to make looking an option. We kissed again. Joe used a hand to cup the side of my face. I moved closer, putting a hand on hi s shoulder. Our kiss grew passionate as he opened his mouth he didn t force his tong ue on me, mind you; he just sort of opened his mouth a little wider, like he was saying, Not to force anything on you, but I m game if you are. It should go witho ut saying that I was game. As we kissed, his other hand found my hand that was on his shoulder. Our fingers

intertwined and moved from his shoulder to rest by our laps. Our hands were fin ally having sex. A loud police siren startled us, and without meaning to we separated just enough so that our eyes met. There, with the siren screeching, I could see Joe s eyes, b riefly illuminated by the red glare as the police car whizzed down the street. I could tell he had regained his sense(s). I was still working on recovering mine . Our kissing hadn t been incredibly passionate more slow and gentle if anything but I was still out of breath. Unless that s just a sign that I need to work out more. Or at all. Joe sat back a little and I sat up straighter in my seat. We looked at each othe r. He was the picture of a troubled person, looking conflicted as he seemed to b e staring at me and at something else at the same time, gently biting his lower lip that had not one minute ago been pressed against mine. He looked down at our hands and I followed his gaze: our fingers were still inte rtwined, like that was how they were supposed to be. He didn t make a move to let go of my hand. "Thanks for the ride," I said at last, almost a whisper. I looked up at him and he nodded. Our fingers separated and I reached down to grab the bag of questionable sushi. I put my hand on the door handle and then turned back to him, feeling obligated to say something. But there was nothing I could say. I only looked at him helple ssly; he shrugged just as helplessly in reply. I couldn t say anything and neither could he. We shared one final look of what the hell have we done / damn that kiss was good and then I opened the door. My nose was happy to breathe in the fresh night air and be relieved from the weird, slightly fishy smell that had accumulated in th e car, but the rest of me wanted to be back in there with Joe. As soon as I got back to my dorm room, the first thing I did was check my e-mail . There was a response from Joe he d replied to mine hours ago, but I d been busy with the picnic and then sushi and then Drunk Kevin and it was so normal because it wa s before the kiss that changed everything. I wasn t sure how to reply, whether or not to acknowledge what had just taken place. I finally decided to reply as usua l, and then added at the end, So. Tonight. That would get us somewhere. The second thing I did was lie on my bed and stare at the ceiling. I felt weird. Part of me was happy but I wasn t letting myself dwell on what it me ant because I had no idea what it meant. It was complicated. But man, it was amazing. I played with my fingernails and then opened my hand, s taring at it. Not ten minutes ago, Joe had been holding this hand. "Are you okay?" I glanced over at Molly, sitting at her desk with her laptop in front of her and eyeing me strangely. "Oh. Uh, yeah." To keep from staring at my hand I began chewing on my thumbnail. Molly looked at me like she expected me to elaborate, but I looked back at the c eiling. I wasn t in the mood to talk about it, or anything. I probably looked high , and if I was in the mood to mess with her I d look at my hands again and quote O tto from The Simpsons: "What s the deal with fingers, man? They call them fingers but they never fing." But I had enough abstract thoughts to deal with.

I didn t yet know what I was supposed to do tell Kevin? Call Joe? What did the kiss mean? I wish I could read his mind and know what this new thing between us is. A nd if it meant anything. Because it meant something to me. After a while of just staring at the ceiling, thinking about Joe and me and what we had just done, I decided to check my e-mail. Nothing yet. So I sat there and refreshed. Literally, for five minutes, all I did was refresh the page. I know it didn t make any sense because he was still driving home at th at point, but there was a possibility he d pulled over, whipped out his phone, and checked his e-mail in desperation. Then I got over myself and grabbed my astronomy textbook, but I couldn t concentra te on anything. I read the same sentence over and over because my thoughts were filled with that evening. So I had no choice but to return to staring at the ceiling in a daze except this t ime I was listening to music to at least give the impression that I was doing so mething. I must have looked weird to Molly, especially because every ten minutes or so she d see me sit up, reach for my laptop, and then less than a minute later set it aside and lie back down. Never had I been so tortured by the simple act of checking e-mail. About an hour later, I finally saw that beautiful (1) next to my inbox. I jumped on that message and skimmed through his response, looking for an acknowledgment that tonight had happened. There was nothing until the last sentence. He d quoted me on my So. Tonight, and under that he wrote, Tonight was probably a mistake. I don t regret it. The first sentence made my heart catch in my throat and the last made it explode into thousands of butterflies. Warm, fuzzy butterflies. I don t know why they wer e warm. Maybe they were hell butterflies. Usually at least an hour passes before we respond, but this time I didn t care. I hit "Reply" and, ignoring everything else in the e-mail, typed Me neither. I sat back and chewed on my thumbnail. I had to ask. I had to. So... where does this leave us? And send. I played the refreshing game again. Usually it s not a game so much as a masochist ic form of torture, but I knew he was there. He had to be. And there it was, that (1) that always made me so happy. This time when I saw it I paused just slightly before clicking on the e-mail, chewing contemplatively o n the inside of my lip. Finally, heart racing, I opened it. Do you want to talk about it? What kind of question is that? Yes. Send. I didn t play the refreshing game for long: my phone rang. Ignoring Molly s curious stares, I leapt off the bed, grabbing my phone off my des

k mid-leap, and ran into the hallway. It was by far the most action-packed momen t of my year. If they ever make a movie about my life, that scene is going in th ere and it s going to be in fucking slow motion. "Hello?" I said breathlessly. "Karen?" "Joe." I sat down and leaned against the wall. There was nothing but silence. If we had messed things up already, I might as well go all in and make them mess ier. I took a deep breath and said it: "I like you." Even though I knew he liked me back, it was still strange to say. Exhilarating, yes, but I felt exposed. Th e minute I said it part of me wanted to take it back. It wasn t just that I liked him; I was clearly implying more than that, that I wanted him. That I wanted to be with him. "Me too," he said quietly, hesitatingly. "But..." "I know," I murmured. "...it s not enough," he continued. And there it was again. Just like Lucas and I had liked each other and it hadn t b een enough, here I was in the same situation but different. Because I liked Joe in a way I never liked Lucas. Joe and I had the same weird sense of humor. He unde rstood me in a different way. I could see myself spreading my (emotional) legs t o Joe. This could be the start of something good. Or the end of something that n ever even started. "What is?" I countered, running a hand through my hair. It felt greasy. "What wo uld be enough?" "You not being with Kevin. And... I mean, even if you broke up with him, I don t t hink it would be right for me to date you after, you know?" "Yeah." In the silence that ensued, I wondered how much I wanted this. Because if I was serious about this, I could tell Joe. But before I told him, I would have to tel l Kevin first, because no matter how badly I wanted to do this middle Jonas, it couldn t erase the fact that my loyalties remained with the eldest. But Kevin woul d understand. He was already well on his way to getting Eva, anyway; hell, he pr actically had her at the picnic. He knows what it s like to fight for someone. "Joe," I said slowly, making up my mind as I spoke, "would you want to meet with me in... two days?" That left tomorrow. I would tell Kevin tomorrow. He would u nderstand. Then I could be with Joe. He hesitated. "Why?" Because I m going to blow you(r mind), that s why. Because in two days we ll be able t o be together, as cheesy as that sounds. "Just... to talk, hang out, whatever," I said dismissively. "I don t want to cut y ou out of my life just because there s some complicated shit going on. We can stil l be friends." For the next two days. After that, it s so on.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "Sure." "Do you want to come over at like six? We could eat." And do other things. "Okay." The brevity of his statements did nothing to hide the disappointment in his voice. I knew it couldn t be me he was disappointed at, especially if he knew what we d be doing in two days. It must have been the situation that had him down. Which, in a weird way, made me happy. Someone was depressed that he couldn t be w ith me. That was kind of cool. I d probably be just as depressed if I didn t know ho w this situation was going to turn out. It s like watching a movie when you alread y know the ending. You re not depressed that Simba left the kingdom because you kn ow he ll be back, and he ll get with Nala, and they ll have a kid and like two and a h alf sequels, somehow. "So I ll see you then?" "Yeah." Oh, he was so sad. I wanted to comfort him and tell him, Hey, don t worry, Simba s c oming back. It s not over. Oh my God, Joe and I could totally have a The Notebook moment. He wouldn t be able to ignore it anymore and he d turn around and ask, "Why didn t you write me? Why? I t wasn t over for me. I waited for you for two days. And now it s too late." And I ll say, "Because I don t have your address. But that s beside the point. I calle d you every day for two-sevenths of a week." He ll say, "Oh yeah. I forgot." And I ll say, "It wasn t over. It s still not over," and then I ll ravish him. At some p oint I ll tell him my thing with Kevin wasn t real. I couldn t work it into my dramati c Notebook scene. And I don t know what it means that I m the guy in this fantasy. "Karen," Joe said suddenly, bringing me out of my thoughts. "Yeah?" He didn t say anything, then sighed deeply. "Never mind." Have I mentioned how I hate when people do that? "What?" "Nothing." Whatever, Joe. I ll have you spreading your legs for me two days from now. "I should go," he quietly said. "Okay." "Bye." "Bye." I hung up the phone. I stared at it, fumbling around with it in my hands. Two da ys. On Day One, I called Kevin before I left for class. He didn t answer he was probably

busy with that whole life o talk.

thing of his but I left a message telling him we needed t

I received a text message instantaneously: We re about to do an interview. I can t t alk. What is it? Texting me because he couldn t talk. He was a damn good boyfriend. Eva was crazy f or even hesitating to be with him. We made plans to have dinner later. I browsed through my message inbox afterward , seeing that the only people I d texted lately were Kevin and Joe. Rachel, whose name was normally in my phone more than anyone, was hardly there. I paused with her name highlighted, wondering if I should call her. I remembered her busy work schedule and thought better of it. She wouldn t answer. I guess Kev in was also a better sister than she was. For shame, Rachel. I shut my phone and left for class. All day I thought about what I was going to say, and how to say it. The two main points were to (1) Tell him there was something going on between Joe and me (wh ile omitting the kiss. I don t think Kevin would want to hear that his brother had kissed who he thought was his brother s girlfriend), and (2) Tell him I wanted to break up. The second point seemed a little harsh but Kevin had said we could br eak up if I was unhappy with the situation. I was still unclear on how to begin saying all of this. I figured I would let Fu ture Karen deal with it. When seven o clock rolled around and I was waiting for Kevin outside my dorm, I wa s pretty pissed at Past Karen for leaving me to deal with this. That bitch. A few minutes later Kevin s car pulled up and I got inside. "Hi," I said. It was lame but I couldn t think of anything to say. I wasn t planning on telling him until we were eating dinner because food makes everything better , so everything before that moment was just filler. "Um. Sup?" Not awkward at al l. "A little tired, but I m okay." He grinned at me. I figured he would be tired, but with those sunglasses in place I couldn t tell. "Sorry about last night," he adde d, pulling away from the curb. "I know I can be a downer when I m... intoxicated." "You were drunk," I told him. "And don t be sorry. Drunk Kevin is delightful. I mi ss him." "I think I m jealous." "As you should be." I sat back in the car as he drove to the food court a couple of streets over. "I ve tried almost every place here now," he remarked as he stepped out of the car . I smiled. "I know. I m proud. All that s left is Steve s Korean Barbeque, the Italian place, and the Thai place," I said, looking around at the crazy juxtaposition of restaurants squeezed into a small space. If you didn t eat here at least a few ti mes a month, you were not a UCLA student. "I ve never had Korean barbeque, but what the hell," he said. I grinned. I loved K

evin s adventurous attitude toward food. It s something everyone should have. I d never been to Steve s, but I soon learned I wasn t missing out on much. There were only a few seats in the restaurant because every restaurant was pretty small he re, but Kevin and I grabbed one. My barbequed short ribs were messy and mostly f at, but Kevin s barbeque chicken was okay. The plates were huge to begin with, so we ended up setting mine aside and putting his in the middle of the table. "So," I said. Crap, this was one of those times when my mouth was ahead of my br ain. I didn t know how to start saying it. Clearly I wasn t ready yet. "How are you? " I stalled. He seemed lost in thought. "Was Joe acting weird yesterday?" Taken aback, I played with some rice with my fork. "Why?" I asked casually. Ther e was no way Kevin could just know, was there? They were brothers but they could n t be that close where they could just use their Jonas voodoo to figure out what was going on. "I think he saw me kissing Eva," he confessed. And then: "Shit." Oh my God, perfect segue opportunity. "You know," I started, "it s really not that big of a deal..." "Yeah, it is." Kevin used his fingers to pull off a piece of chicken. "You don t k now." "What? You don t know," I replied quickly maybe a little too quickly. Ignoring Kevin s look of surprised confusion, I backed up a little. "What... don t I know?" "When Eva and I were together..." he sighed. "Joe was into her. And... he told h er." I let my fork drop onto the table. "What?" He raised his eyebrows at my reaction. I averted my eyes and picked up my fork, and he continued speaking, still looking down and picking at the rice: "Yeah... he said it slipped out, and he didn t mean to do it. I mean, he did tell me right after. But I couldn t believe he would go behind my back like that, and neither co uld he. I mean... if he liked her, that would have been okay. He could have told me. But he didn t. Accident or not, he told her." "What happened?" I asked quietly. My throat felt fuzzy. This story sounded a lit tle familiar... "She rejected him, obviously. And then when he told me... we didn t talk for a whi le. It was probably..." Staring off into the distance, he looked back at the pla te. "Probably the worst month of my life. Cause he s my brother, you know?" I felt betrayed. At that moment I wasn t sure why, but I did. My opinion of Joe wa s quickly changing. "What what does that have to do with now?" "Well, I mean, we agreed after that, that we d always be honest with each other an d we wouldn t let a girl come between us again. And I feel bad because I m not being honest..." Neither is he, Kevin. Neither am I. Apparently we re all lying to each other. I wa s disgusted with all of us. "Plus, we pretty much agreed that we d put Eva in the past. How can she be in the

past if I m chasing after her? And if this kiss upset him that much, maybe it mean s he s still into Eva. We have to talk about it." "Maybe he s upset because you re kissing someone when you have a girlfriend, as far as he s concerned," I said pointedly. "Maybe," Kevin shrugged dismissively. Seeing my slight surprise, he straightened up and added, "No, I mean, don t get the wrong idea, of course he cares about you , but he wouldn t be this bothered if it was just about you. He doesn t really know you." Fuck you, Kevin. And fuck you, Joe. "I just... I should talk to him," he sighed. "What would you say? Would you tell him everything?" If so, that would mean I wo uldn t have to, but learning all this information was making me question Joe. "No. God, this is all so complicated..." Absent-mindedly bring the fork to his m outh, he said, "I d just want to find out if he likes Eva. It almost killed me the last time he went behind my back and... I don t want him to do it again." I swallowed hard. And now I was guilty. "I don t know," he shrugged, setting the fork down. "Sometimes I don t even know why I bother with her anymore." He spoke casually, but even the most nonchalant of tones couldn t have hidden the meaning behind what he had just said. A few minutes of thoughtful (and woeful) silence passed between us, and then he said, "What did you want to talk about? That s why we re having dinner, right?" I didn t even care anymore. Now was obviously the wrong time to tell him that yes, Joe was sneaking around behind his back once again, and I was helping him do it . Ever since Kevin had told me that about Joe, I had slowly been deflating until I was just slumped over on the table, arms crossed with my chin resting on my arm . "Nothing," I said. Kevin didn t question it. We were both too conflicted to do anything after that, so we parted ways. Molly looked on curiously as I laid on my bed and stared at the ceiling, this time won dering how the hell I got myself into this mess. On Day Two, I was angry when I met with Joe. I think I was angry. I was also confused. And a little excited to see him unfortun ately it seemed that particular feeling wasn t going anywhere. "Do you like Eva?" I asked. It was the first thing I said when I got into his ca r. I knew it was irrational, but nothing was rational anymore. He furrowed his brow. "What? No." "Kevin said you used to. That you told her you did, and you two didn t talk for li ke a month." "You re right," he said, looking at me calmly despite his surprise. "I did. I fuck ed up. But Kevin and I moved past it." "Really, you call this moving past it? You re sneaking around behind his back agai

n!" He looked hurt as he narrowed his eyes at me a little and left his mouth hanging open. "Pot, kettle, black!" "Fine, I m a hypocrite," I admitted. "But you don t think it s a little weird that thi s is the second time you re going after one of your brother s girlfriends?" "What? You know I like you. I can t help it," he snapped. "Besides, you re the one w ho asked to meet me here tonight. I was going to try to forget about everything. " "I know, but if you were really dedicated to not hurting your brother, you would n t have come!" He paused briefly, then looked me in the eye. "We said we would just be friends. " "But we re not," I countered. "We can say it all we want, but..." I trailed off. H e refused to meet my eyes. "Yeah," he mumbled, finally looking at me. "And... I know I shouldn t have come. I don t want to do this; I don t want to hurt Kevin," he said softly. "God," he said, leaning back in his seat, "that month we didn t talk was the worst I ve ever felt. I hated it, I hated the guilt and now I m feeling that way again. But I don t want to tell him now because he d be crushed that this is happening all over again. He ll th ink I don t care about him, and... I... I don t know what to do." He looked at me he lplessly, like he was looking to me for answers. I looked back at him just as helplessly and he sighed, resting his head against his seat. I crossed my arms and stared straight ahead. What a fucking mess this all was. It was getting hard keeping track of it all. Basically everybody was be traying everybody, and we d all probably end up alone. "But..." I turned to Joe. "He did... kiss someone else," he said slowly. "So..." "So... he s not perfect, either." Joe turned toward me. "I mean, if he s not a good boyfriend to you, why should you be a good girlfriend to him?" The pleading in h is eyes was almost heartbreaking. I knew, and he knew, that he was ignoring the other side of things the side that Kevin was being a good brother to Joe, so Joe s hould do the same (but was Kevin really being a good brother if he was lying to him? I don t know anything anymore.) But Joe was ignoring that part, and his eyes were willing me to ignore it too. He was asking me to see it from his skewed per spective even though we both knew better. Like he was holding a ball, asking me to tell him it was blue, even though we both knew it was red. I smiled sadly at him. "Do you really believe that?" "Yes," he insisted. "That s why I said it." I had to laugh. Joe smiled, and we looked at each other as our smiles eventually faded when the gravity of the situation bore down upon us. "Okay, no, I don t really believe that," he sighed. "Let s just not talk about it an

ymore. It s complicated, it s fucked-up..." "Your mom s fucked-up." It was Joe s turn to laugh. Yes, we really are that immature. "I m starving," he said, smiling at me as his head rested lazily against the seat. I smiled back. "Me too." For several seconds we stayed like that, staring at eac h other, until we snapped out of it. "So," Joe said, "where to?" "Uh... there s a hot dog place, just down the street from my dorm. We could walk," I suggested. "That works for me," he said, and opened his door. I did the same. "How have you been?" I asked as we walked beside each other, as if I didn t know as if we hadn t kept in contact by e-mailing each other several times a day. But he h ad to have known what I meant. Yes, I knew that yesterday he tried chocolate Luc ky Charms and decided he didn t like them despite it technically being the chocola te marshmallow version of cereal, and I knew that this morning he slipped in the shower (was he telling shower stories just to torture me?) and ended up with a bruise on his knee, but our e-mails rarely went deeper than that. "Ehh." "Ehh?" I repeated quizzically. Joe just shrugged. I still hadn t forgotten the fam ily problems he had alluded to at the picnic, so I took that as my moment to ask , "What s going on?" "Do you really want to get into it?" he asked hesitantly, casting me a quick sid e-glance. "Of course." I tried to sound as understanding as possible. I suck at comforting people, but with Joe I was willing to try. "Oh. We re here." Damn Desi Dog (ooh, alliteration) and their conveniently close location. Before we stepped up to loo k at the menu, I shot Joe a look that I hoped meant Don t forget that you were in the process of spreading your legs. "Well, what is it?" I prodded him as we walked away with our hot dogs. "Let s go t his way," I added, turning in the direction opposite from my dorm. We were going for a fucking walk and he would just have to deal with it. "Okay, so..." Joe took a large bite. I think he did that on purpose. Damn him. A fter a great deal of unnecessary chewing, he said, "We re having money problems." I raised my eyebrows. "Man, you know the economy s bad when the Jonas Brothers are poor." That probably wasn t the best thing to say. But, as it turned out, it didn t matter. "No," Joe laughed, "we still have way more money than we know what to do with." As I rolled my eyes and jabbed him in the side, he continued, "It s just that we t rusted this guy he s kind of but not exactly my uncle, on my mom s side to handle some m oney business... and he screwed us over." I would have said something but I was chewing. It was for the best, I think, bec ause Joe took my silence as a reason to keep talking, and I wasn t complaining.

"It s not the money part that really matters because, I mean, we re filthy rich and al l." (He gave a small laugh when I elbowed him in the ribs.) "But now my parents are fighting about it," he said, getting serious. "Like, my dad can t let it go, a nd he s mad at my mom for trusting the guy like it s her fault. I mean, we all trust ed him because he was family well, he wasn t, but he was. And she s mad, too, because he s basically insulting her side of the family and... it s just... I ve never seen th em like that before." I wasn t sure how to respond to that. My parents rarely fought and I knew I was lu cky to have that. "Are you okay?" "Oh, yeah," he said casually. "It s just... like, that s how I ve been. Since you aske d." I thought it was interesting that Joe is far less eloquent when he s spreading his legs. Not that he s amazingly eloquent to begin with, but when he s talking about h is feelings or, sad ones, anyway he seems to fumble around more with his words. It w as cute. I know. Only I could find sadness adorable. After that confession the rest of our conversation mirrored the light tone of ou r e-mails, as Joe went into further detail describing his slip in the shower (se riously, why was he making me picture him naked?) and we then discussed hot dogs and how questionable they were. At some point I could no longer direct us away from my dorm, as it seemed we had explored just about every sidewalk within a two-mile radius, so eventually we e nded up standing in front of my building, looking at each other and stalling bef ore we would have to reluctantly say good-bye. "Do you want to do something this weekend?" he asked suddenly, after we d been loo king at each other in silence for a few seconds, unsure how to say good-bye. God, yes. Except... I didn t understand why he was asking after the conversation w e d had in the car. "But..." I began. "We can t " "We re not," Joe interrupted. "I didn t kiss you tonight, did I?" So that was his logic: that if we didn t physically act on our feelings for each o ther, the other stuff we did like go on unnecessary walks, share our feelings, e-m ail each other throughout the day didn t count as cheating. Here he was, holding the red ball again, begging me to tell him it was blue. "We ll definitely do something this weekend," I confirmed. The ball is blue. Joe smiled. I smiled back. "I ll see you later," he said, grinning at me. I nodded. Reluctantly I turned arou nd and went inside my building. When I got to my room, Molly watched as, for the third night in a row, I laid on my bed and stared at the ceiling. I was too busy thinking about Joe to care. "So, this is... lame." I smiled at Joe, sitting in the driver s seat next to me. "No, it s not." He gave me a look and said, "I tried to think of something to do, but... not a l

ot of options," he mumbled. I nodded understandingly. Neither of us wanted to mention Kevin. Sitting in Joe s car, parked by an obscure park a few streets away from my university, we had abs olutely nothing to do. Neither of us were hungry a rarity for me, I know, but we d n ever specified what we would do, so I ate beforehand. Sue me. Joe had eaten befo re as well, and I m beginning to think it s because he doesn t really plan ahead, a qu ality I like in him because I feel inferior when people do plan. In addition, th ere wasn t much to do around here but go to the movies. While it can be exciting t o sit in the dark with someone and explore your physical boundaries... Joe and I had given ourselves impossible boundaries that made even hand-holding illegal. So that left us sitting in the car. Awkwardly. I felt kind of dumb. I d dressed up slightly, in the form of earrings and shoes th at weren t sneakers, because of course I wanted to look nice in front of Joe, but we were just sitting in his car, so what was the point? I snuck a look at him. It was hard to tell whether he d tried to look nice for me because he always looks freakishly good. Now, in a green shirt, his characterist ic black skinny jeans, and green Converse (now that s normal footwear, Kevin), he looked great. I thought it was a little funny that his shirt matched his shoes, though. I guess I d color-coordinate too if I owned everything in every color. "Well..." I rotated my body to face him. "What was the best part of your day?" "Of my day that s... not even over yet?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. When I nodd ed, he scratched his chin in deep contemplation. "I guess a tie between now and earlier when I had some ice cream." I wasn t sure whether to be happy that I was a contender for the best part of his day, or insulted that I was tied with... ice cream. "Was it at least chocolate m arshmallow?" I asked hopefully. Even though that shit doesn t exist. He shook his head. "Oreo." Seeing my eye-roll, he added, "No, but you don t unders tand, there were magical circumstances." Hearing this I laughed, and then he con tinued: "I was mowing the lawn," (Joe mows the lawn?) "and I thought, Man, I wish I could have some ice cream right now, and bam, the ice cream man shows up. It w as fate. Would have been better if he did have chocolate marshmallow, though," h e said as an afterthought. "Yeah, it would be better if it existed." Joe playfully narrowed his eyes at me. "It fucking exists, woman. I had it growi ng up " "You had rocky road with the nuts taken out." He groaned. "That s what Kevin says." "Yeah, he told me," I said without thinking. He looked perplexed. "You talked to Kevin about it?" "Um," I said, "yeah. But that was before..." Before Joe and I had become... what we were. Mentally I cursed myself for bringing up Kevin, which reminded us of e xactly what we were doing and who we were deceiving well, who Joe thought we were deceiving. Was it still deceit, that we were keeping this from Kevin even though he and I weren t really dating? This entire situation was one giant gray area.

Joe nodded. He brought a thumb to his mouth and began chewing on the nail. I was sure he only did this when he felt troubled or guilty. Desperately I tried to revive the conversation. "What about the... most homosexu al part of your day?" Looking at me, Joe stopped chewing and laughed. "Um..." He rotated his body so h e his back was against the car door and he directly faced me. "I guess when... w hen I was falling asleep on the couch earlier and Nick s dog licked my mouth." Lovely. A dog was getting farther with Joe than I was. Despite my weird jealously, I had to giggle at the image. Our eyes met and Joe s miled. "What was the most... acidic part of your day?" he asked, reaching for something sitting on the dashboard. "Um..." I lifted my feet up to rest on the seat, and I placed a hand on my knees in front of me as I thought. "I guess..." "Was it now?" Suddenly several small things came flying at me. I closed my eyes and raised a hand to bat them off. I looked up, confused, to find Joe smiling mi schievously at me, holding the now opened container he d taken from the dashboard. I picked up one of the things that had landed next to me and examined the pale y ellow lumpy thing, dusted in white powder. I licked my finger to taste the powde r and wrinkled my nose at the sour taste. "Lemon sour Altoids," Joe said, holding the container up with a grin. I threw the Altoid at him. "Yes, Joe. This was the most acidic part of my day." "I know. That s why I did it." Slowly I began shaking my head at him, though I couldn t help the smile forming on my face. "You know," I said, "that one doesn t even make sense. What s why you did it?" "Life, Karen," he said simply. "Life." We shared a few seconds of eye contact, with him grinning at me in that way he h as and me narrowing my eyes. I shook my head again. "What was the most... controversial part of your day?" he asked. That was how we spent those few hours we had together sitting there in his car, fa cing each other, and talking about our days. It was pretty nice, but every now a nd then something would come up to remind us who we were and what we were doing and his thumbnail would return to his mouth yet again. The way we were sitting w as especially noteworthy, the way we both sat against the car doors, across from each other. Maybe it was because it was easy to talk while facing each other... or maybe it was because we didn t trust ourselves unless we were as far apart as we could possibly get. The following week passed in a blur of Joe. Our e-mails became even more frequent, as if e-mailing him three times a day was n t enough. Sometimes the daily average climbed to five or six. I don t know why we didn t IM. We could have; it would certainly be more time-efficient, but there was

something nice about e-mail something almost old-fashioned about it. You know you r e getting old when you call e-mail old-fashioned, but it doesn t compare to instan t messaging. Our responses were always thought-out, planned. I found myself comp osing my e-mails to him in my head about various events in my day as they were h appening, like they weren t real unless I told him. Did my schoolwork suffer? A little. Granted, it was already doing a pretty good job of suffering all on its own simply because I was overwhelming myself with th e heavy workload (yes, I do admit it, though I ll never admit it to Rachel not that I d ever get the chance to anymore because it seems that, much like the chocolate marshmallow ice cream, she doesn t exist), but my constant correspondence with Joe wasn t helping any. Sometimes, if several hours had passed after my e-mail to him and he still hadn t replied, I couldn t do any work until he replied. It was strang e and it made little sense, but I would sit and waste time on my computer, check ing my e-mail every so often, because I was so sure he would respond any minute. Sometimes he did. Sometimes he took a while longer and then I d realize I d spent m ost of my afternoon doing nothing because I was waiting for a reply. Way to be p roductive, me. We didn t talk that much on the phone, and when we did it was planned sort of. Over e-mail, Joe would casually mention something like I ll call you tomorrow night and you can tell me about this weird theory of yours. I think it was his way of bei ng careful. Hence my surprise when my phone rang on a Wednesday afternoon. Joe hadn t said he would call, and Kevin usually only called on weekends to make plans for the foll owing weekend. And, let s face it, I have very few friends. I was sitting in my floor s hallway at the time. It sounds like a strange place to be, but it worked out for me. Fewer people are around because on weekday aftern oons they tend to hang around campus, either in class or waiting for one to star t. And, being in the hallway, there wasn t any pressure on me to be quiet. The sam e goes for being in my room, I guess, but I have trouble studying in my room. I don t know why. That s just, as Joe would say, life. Setting my pen in the middle of my ched for the phone. It was Kevin s me I heard from him, I was worried e. I couldn t even imagine what it th him. "Hello?" "Hey," Kevin said. There was a pause as I waited for him to say what he wanted or make plans, but h e didn t speak. "...Hey," I tentatively replied. "What s up?" "Just reading." Pause. "What s going on with you?" "I just wanted to talk." Since when has Kevin ever called just to talk ? Suspicious. My throat felt dry. "What about?" anthropology textbook to hold my place, I rea ringtone. My heart began to beat fast. Every ti that he had found out somehow about Joe and m was like for Joe to live under the same roof wi

"I didn t have anything in mind." "Oh." Even Kevin couldn t ignore the weird silence. "We never talk on the phone, do we?" he asked. "Well, we do," I said slowly, bringing my knees to my chest to let a floormate w alk by. "But just to make plans or something. Never just to talk." "Right. Well, I don t have any plans to make." This was different. "Why not? You re always finding weird excuses for us to be see n in public." "I don t know," he said in that strange way only he has shrouded in mystery and mult iple meanings. "It s getting old." "What is?" "Chasing after her," he said quietly. If I didn t know better I d think this was Dru nk Kevin, with the way he was being more open than usual and how he had that glu m tone to his voice. I guess he was just sad. And Drunk Kevin is sadness. It s eas y to see how I d confuse the two. "What do you mean?" I asked carefully, not wanting to break the spell of whateve r it was that had him being open while sober. "Like... did you ever have something, and you thought you had it, but you never really had it at all?" I shook my head to myself as I tried but failed to think of something like what Kevin was talking about. I bit my lip when it occurred to me: Joe. I didn t really have him, did I? "Yeah," I said quietly. Admitting this as a possibility was the last thing I wan ted to do, but I said it, so I clearly believed it no matter how many e-mails we s ent, Joe still wasn t my anything. As far as anyone was concerned, we weren t even f riends. "What was it?" I wasn t prepared for that question. I tried to think of something else that could apply. I said the first thing that came to mind: "Rachel." "Why?" "Like..." I searched my mind for something to say, wondering how I d bullshit my w ay out of this one. "Because she left?" It was just supposed to be a random choice, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. I didn t really have her, either. Maybe I never did. "Yeah," I murmured softly. I looked down at my sneakers, Converse knock-offs, an d used my pen to poke at a small hole that was forming in the side. "She didn t re alize how much I needed her," I said slowly, realizing it was the truth as I spo ke it, "and she just... left. She never calls," I added. I don t know why I was sa ying any of this. Maybe because I d never let myself think it until now. But the b

ridge of my nose started tingling the more I thought about it. "You could have asked her to stay," he said. When did we start talking about my problems? This wasn t even a problem until two minutes ago. "No, I couldn t do that to her." Hastily I rubbed at my eyes, willing the increasi ng wetness to go away. I wasn t about to have a fucking heart to heart while sitti ng in the hallway with anthropology in my lap. "But you could do it to yourself." It should have been a question but he said it like a statement. I stopped rubbing my eyes. "What?" "I mean, you don t ask her to make any sacrifices but you just expect it of yourse lf." "Kevin, you re barely making sense," I lied. He was making all the sense in the wo rld. I was suffering alone here because I couldn t expect Rachel to have to make a sacrifice to stay here with me. But it was the right thing to do. There wasn t an ything wrong with that. It was just... again, it was just life. And sometimes li fe fucking hurts. "Sorry. I was just thinking about Eva, and..." "What about Eva?" I asked quickly. "Where does she fit into this hypothetical si tuation?" "I don t know anymore," Kevin said. He didn t say anything for a moment, and then sa id, "You should have stood up for what you wanted." "But she s my sister, Kevin, her happiness comes first." There may have been a tou ch of annoyance in my voice. He wasn t making much sense now. He was probably conf using my situation with his and Eva s. They weren t the same. "You ve got to put yourself first sometime, Karen." His words stung me. They weren t said harshly but it wasn t something I d really consi dered before. "I m fine with my life right now," I said defensively. "You are?" I hesitated. "We re not talking about me. You didn t call to talk about me. Are you unsure about Eva?" I asked. "A little," he admitted. "I m just not sure what I m doing." "Me neither," I confessed. I don t know how long we stayed on the line in mutual silence, engrossed in our ow n thoughts. Eventually he said he had to go and we hung up. I was still a little shaken after I d just given Rachel more thought than I had in a while. I wanted to call her right then, but I didn t. On Friday afternoon I was sitting in my room trying to do my weekend homework be fore it was the weekend. I got another unexpected call, this time from Joe.

"Can I come over?" he asked. I was surprised but still pleased to hear from him. "Sure." "Is it okay if I leave now?" "Yeah," I told him. I was kind of excited at the spontaneity of it all, but most ly I was just confused. I waited for Joe on the street outside my dorm as I always did. While standing a t the curb, peering down the street trying to catch a glimpse of his car, I turn ed around when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around to find Joe standing behind me. "Hi," I greeted him, wishing I could wipe the stupid smile off my face. "Your ca r?" I asked in confusion. "Oh, I parked it." He motioned in the general direction behind him and I nodded. People can t park on the street just outside the dorms no, that would be far too co nvenient so there are a few parking lots located around. Joe never parked there, t hough; he usually picked me up in his car and we d go somewhere. I stopped myself from asking why when I saw him yawn. He has a cute yawning face , like a little kid; he didn t even bother to cover his mouth until halfway throug h. "Are you okay?" Smiling tiredly, he told me, "I got like two hours of sleep last night. Crazy sc hedules," he explained. "Then why aren t you asleep?" "If I nap now," he said, "my sleep schedule will be thrown off. I m wasting time t o wait until the earliest hour when it would be normal for me to go to sleep." It was weird that we were just standing there in the sidewalk, more than an arm s length apart, having this conversation like we both weren t crazy about each other . I think readers of body language would have a pretty hard time figuring us out . "So... I m how you waste time. Thanks, Joe." "Any time." After a minute of staring (well, okay, I was staring; he was rubbing his eyes), he turned around and pointed to one of the dormitory buildings behin d us. "So that one s yours, right?" "Right," I said, smiling and nodding. I like that he remembers. "Can I see your room?" he asked, turning to me. Oh snap. That s serious business. "Sure." I hope that came out casually. As I led the way, I was trying to think a bout how my room looked exactly at that moment. My bed was unmade. My desk was c overed in piles of books. Shit, I think I left my bra hanging over my bedpost. I t wasn t even a fun-colored one like my lime green bra; it was my tan bra. Of cour se it was my tan bra. That ugly undergarment would somehow sabotage me. As we stepped inside the building and I pressed the button for the elevator, I s upposed I should be a little nicer to my tan bra. It had, after all, been very g ood to me. It never showed under my shirts, not even the white ones. I bet the l

ime green one couldn t pull that off. Sorry, tan. You do matter. Still, though, that was no excuse for it to be hanging around the room flaunting itself. After getting off the elevator, I led Joe down the hall to my room. I paused jus t in front of the doorway. He looked at me curiously. "Could you... just stay there? For like twenty seconds?" He grinned, a slow one that began with the corners of his mouth rising until it was a full-on smile with his teeth showing. "No." I didn t make a move to put my key in the door. Wavering slightly, I asked, "Pleas e?" Joe just grinned. Rolling my eyes, I said, "Fine," and opened the door, Joe following closely behi nd. "You didn t make your bed?" he asked in a mock-judgmental tone as I scrambled to t ake my bra off the bedpost and stuff it into a drawer. "Oh my God, why is your u nderwear hanging out all over the place? Can t you do anything right?" I hastily made my bed, not bothering with the sheets but pulling the comforter u p and fluffing my pillow a little. "Happy?" I asked. Joe sat on my bed. I have a boy on my bed. "Your room s way neater than mine," he observed, laughing softly at my exasperated sigh. "What are you doing?" I asked when he laid down on the bed and closed his eyes. "Resting my eyes." "Really?" I asked dryly. "You came over to sleep?" "No. And I m not sleeping," he said, rolling over on his side and letting out a li ttle sigh. Eyes still closed, might I add. "You don't want to mess up your sleep schedule there." "I'm not sleeping." "You could just sleep at home," I continued. I was still standing in front of my desk with nothing to do, so I decided to grab a book I was (supposed to be) rea ding for Classics and I sat on the end of my bed, leaning against the backboard. "I don t like being at home." "Why?" I asked, thumbing through the book. "Do you really want to get into it?" Why does he always ask me that? "Yes, I do." I tried to sound as convincing as possible, so that next time he wo uldn t even have to ask me.

Joe opened his eyes and sat up a little so he was now sitting against the headbo ard, facing me. "Well..." He reached for an apple-shaped squishy ball off of my desk and played with it between his palms. "Like... it doesn t feel like we re a fam ily anymore. We re just six people living together." "You re a family," I tried. "No, we re not." He laid back down, staring at the very ceiling I d so often gazed a t. Rolling the ball around on his chest, he said, "Nick s never around, Frankie do esn t really know what s going on... I can t even look at Kevin..." he added, making m e feel guilty that he was feeling guilty. I didn t know what to say to that. He closed his eyes. I watched him for a few mom ents longer and returned to my book. After reading a few pages, I realized he was watching me. I gave him a questioni ng glance. He gave me a weak smile, but then it faded. Joe started sadly shaking his head. "I can t do it anymore, Karen." I got anxious, hoping he wasn t going to say what I thought he might. "Do what?" He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, and then closed it, biti ng on his lip. "I thought it would be okay, since he kissed Eva, but... that doe sn t justify anything. He s still my brother." I could tell he d given it a lot of thought all those times he chewed on his thumbna il weren t for nothing. I nodded because I couldn t find it in me to speak. "I feel guilty every day," he continued. "I thought that it we didn t do physical stuff it wouldn t be wrong, but... it is." As he spoke I was waging an internal war with myself. I wanted to tell him now, more than I ever had before. But I d told myself I wouldn t tell him until after I t old Kevin that was the fair order of things. I owed it to Kevin. "My family has enough problems as it is, you know? I don t want Kevin to hate me a gain. I just... I wouldn t be able to handle it." It hurt me to see the sadness in his eyes. He rubbed at his eyes and then kept t hem closed out of tiredness, I guess. "I m really sorry, Karen. Believe me." "I know," I said quietly. All I had to do was tell him. That was all I had to do . "I don t even know how I m going to go without your e-mails," he mumbled into my pil low. "You re the first person I want to tell when stuff happens. It s always you." It s always you, too, I wanted to tell him. I wanted to tell him so much. I expected Joe to get up now but he continued to lie there. He didn t open his eye s. I wondered if he fell asleep. What do you do if someone breaks up with you bu t promptly falls asleep right after? That s fucking awkward. I tried to read and go on as if nothing had happened, but I couldn t do that. This was something. This was real. I lifted my eyes from the book and stared at him, sleeping peacefully on my bed.

Life must have been hell for him all this time, dealing with family issues and his conflicting emotions and the possibility of his brother hating him. He didn t deserve any of it. He was doing the best he could... and I was making everything worse. I shouldn t have gotten involved with him and when I did I should have tol d him up front what was going on. Telling him everything now was the one shot I had at keeping him but I feared it would be too little, too late. I also felt like it would be taking an official side choosing Joe over Kevin. It always felt like there was something wrong with d oing that. After about twenty minutes, in which I stared at the same passage but focused on blinking back tears, Joe slowly sat up, hair slightly disheveled and looking a little dazed. Our eyes met and we maintained eye contact for several seconds. I don t know what it was that passed between us, but it was over a few seconds later anyway. He bent down to put his shoes back on, and then he stood in front of me . "I wish things were different," he said softly. They are! I was screaming inside myself. Instead I just sat there, immobile, whi le Joe walked out the door and out of my life. Tears stung my eyes again as I cursed myself for not telling him. The only thing preventing me from doing it was my loyalty to Kevin. Why was I loyal to Kevin? It wasn t getting me anywhere. It was making me miserabl e. What had he said again, two days earlier? "You ve got to put yourself first sometime, Karen." "I m fine with my life right now," I had said. "You are?" Was I? I tossed the Classics book aside and ran for my door. I looked out into the hall way, hoping to see Joe standing there, waiting for the elevator. He was gone. By the time the elevator came back up to my floor, it would be too late. I swallowed. "You ve got to put yourself first sometime, Karen." I ran down the hall, faster than I d ever run for anything, ran past the elevator and skidded to a stop in front of the stairs. I ran down them, gripping onto the rails as I went because my speed wasn t exactly safe for anyone. It became a patt ern: six furious stomps clamoring down the flight of steps, two thuds as I turne d to go down the other flight, and then the six stomps again. Two sets of six st omps for each floor I went down. I wasn t even aware I was counting. Panting and out of breath, I reached the bottom floor at last. Ignoring the curi ous stares of people who were waiting for the elevator, I ran out the door of my

building. For a second I stopped and looked around me, and not far ahead I coul d see Joe walking away. "Joe!" I called out, figuring I might as well run to him since I was already on this running spree. This was definitely more running than I d done in a while. He turned around and watched as I stood, panting, and bent over with my hands on my knees. "Just wait," I told him as I tried to catch my breath. He didn t say anything. "Ok ay," I said after several breaths. I looked up into his eyes. Now, in addition t o being tired and melancholy, he was confused. In all my running, I hadn t planned what to say. I sucked at winging it, but I did n t have any other choice. "Kevin wanted me to be his girlfriend his fake girlfriend," I corrected myself. "I n January. He wanted to get Eva back." I stopped because I was still out of brea th. It s sad how out of shape I was. Joe looked even more confused, his mouth agape and eyes darting back and forth a cross my face. "And I agreed," I continued. "And... I didn t tell you because you weren t supposed to know. I m sorry I let you feel guilty for so long. I thought..." I sighed, runn ing a hand through my hair. Winging it was proving to be messier than expected b ecause I was telling him everything that popped into my head. "I thought the rig ht thing to do was to do what Kevin wanted, but it wasn t right for me, or for you , and..." Shrugging, I looked him in the eye and said, "I shouldn t have kept it f rom you for so long, and I know you ll hate me now, but I just had to tell you tha t... I m done with that. I choose you." I choose you? This wasn t Pokemon. I tried searching Joe s face for some indication of what he was feeling, but it wa s blank. An entire minute passed before he said, "What do you expect me to say t o that?" I shook my head. "I don t..." "You lied to me." "Not exactly." "Not exactly?" he echoed incredulously, eyebrows raised as if he couldn t believe I d just said that. "It s still cheating if we don t kiss, and it s still lying if you g o on letting me believe what wasn t true." Well, no need to search his face now. He was definitely pissed, judging by the w ay he was looking at everything but me and the way his jaw was firmly clenched. "Joe, I m..." I tried to think of something I could say that could take away his a nger, that could turn him back into the tired boy who fell asleep on my bed. "I have to go," he said quietly. I watched as he turned around and began walking away. "You don t!" I said weakly. He either didn t hear me or chose not to respond. I watched Joe walk away until he had turned the corner and there was nothing lef

t for me to see. I felt like chasing after him again, but there wasn t anything le ft for me to say. I had run out of confessions. (Also, I was pretty fucking exha usted, but I d like to think I could have chased after him again if the situation warranted it.) Admitting defeat, I turned around and slowly headed for my building, keeping my eyes on the ground as my feet dragged along. I put my key into the lock and open ed the door. Someone had already pressed the button for the elevator and was sta nding in front of it. When the front door shut behind me, he turned around. It was Lucas. This was the first time I d seen him since our quiet breakup in the dining hall. H e looked perfect, as usual. I was more of a mess than I ordinarily was and I did n t really care. "Hi," I said, leaning against a wall. There was no use ignoring him. "Hi," he replied just as politely. I stared up at the numbers. The elevator had reached the eighth floor and was no w on its way down. We both watched the red numbers until they turned into a G, i ndicating it had reached the ground floor. Ever the gentleman, Lucas waited for me to walk into the elevator before getting inside. I leaned against the elevator wall, and as I crossed an arm around my s tomach and brought a hand to stroke my lower lip, thinking about Joe, Lucas pres sed the button for his floor. He gave me an inquisitive stare and then pressed t he button for my floor as well. "Oh. Thanks." "No problem." The elevator reached my floor and I slowly walked off. If I wasn t feeling so out of it and destroyed, I would have said good-bye, a polite act that would have be en the perfect ending to the civilized behavior we d had toward each other so far, but I didn t care. The elevator doors closed and I trudged down the hall to my ro om. In a daze, I checked the time and saw that Molly s class had just ended and so she would be due to return any minute. I felt empty, robotic even, as I unbuttoned my jeans and changed into boxer shorts. I reached for my headphones and mp3 play er and stood above my bed. I could almost see the outline from where Joe had been sleeping mere minutes ago . With a sigh I tossed the covers aside and got in bed. Only then when I was und er the covers, with that damn song about depressed scientific molecules playing in my ears, did I begin to cry. It wasn t the end of the world. I knew that. I wasn t in love with Joe, not really, and we had only just gotten the smallest hint of what it could have been like. But still, it hurt knowing that an opportunity had been missed. Not even missed but crushed, destroyed, and all because of me. I hated knowing that we were grea t together and we could have been something amazing. I hate "shoulda woulda coulda" talk. Personally, I believe that what s done is don e and there s no use dwelling on what has already happened. But... this was a real ly big coulda. It meant something.

Sitting in the study lounge as I had been doing all morning, I returned my atten tion to my astronomy homework. My rate of understanding it was still as slow as ever I had to pore over the textbook to find information and examples related to o ne part of one question, and then process that information, and actually do it.. . and then repeat the process all over again for each part of every question. I did, however, take great pleasure in completely owning it once I d completed the e ntire question. Upon completion of all the parts, I would write something defama tory across the question. So far, the page of problems I d printed out had "SUCK I T," "OWNED," and "BURN" written across three of the eight questions. It was sad that doing this actually gave me pleasure. Well, as much pleasure as I could get, anyway. I still wasn t quite myself. It had only been half a week, but it felt like an eternity. I still wasn t used to not c hecking my e-mail twenty times a day, so sometimes when I opened a new Web page my fingers would get ahead of me and start typing in my e-mail site. Then I d figu re, well, I was already there, so I d check anyway. And all there would be was the last e-mail he sent me, the morning of the day he broke up with me. I d read that e-mail more times than I had any other. I d repeatedly gone through it , wondering if he knew when he wrote that that he was going to break up with me later on. But how can you tell something like that? It was just an ordinary e-ma il, just like the fifty others in my Saved folder. I don t know what would be wors e: knowing he d written that with the intent of breaking up with me later on, or k nowing that his breaking up with me was a spur of the moment decision. When I wasn t thinking about Joe I was worrying about Kevin. He hadn t called me eit her. Why? Had Joe told him everything, or had he not? What did either mean? I d go ne over both possibilities in my mind as I was sitting in class, trying to fall asleep, cleaning my teeth, doing astronomy homework... and I d come to two conclus ions. If Joe had told Kevin, then we still had a chance. Right? It meant that he was g etting everything out in the open. Kevin would apologize for lying to him, Joe w ould apologize for going after his gal, they d hug and maybe write a song or two a bout it, and then once the air was cleared Joe would come looking for me. Kevin would be pissed at first but when he saw that Joe and I were fucking soulmates, he d get over it. If Joe hadn t told Kevin, then... that was it. He didn t care anymore. But my phone never rang. No calls from Kevin, and certainly none from Joe. Was K evin not calling because he was mad, or because he wasn t aware that anything had changed? I was sick of analyzing everything. That was all I did. I had no one to talk to about this stuff, so I talked to myself (in my head). The day after our break-up (I felt weird calling it that because we were never a n official couple. But we were definitely something), I had trouble figuring out where to do some hardcore emotional eating. Broc s Ice Cream Palace was definitel y off, as was any place I went to with Kevin because it made me think of Joe (so mehow). I ended up getting a to-go box at the dining hall, into which I d placed t hree pieces of pizza, a large scoop of mashed potatoes with gravy, and two lemon squares from the dessert counter. The remains of that sad, nutritionally-defici ent meal were still in their box in the mini-fridge and I hadn t touched it since. I wasn t sure why. It took me hours to complete the homework because astronomy was the last thing o n my mind.

I read somewhere that the average person needs thirteen hugs a day to achieve an optimum level of social happiness. That sounds like a lot, especially for me, b ecause I don t get hugged regularly. While walking from the bathroom to my room I crossed paths with a floormate who I hadn t spoken to for a while. We had spent our first day here together, both a l ittle scared and unsure but neither wanting to admit it. And we d gotten along pre tty well, but then classes started and we were too busy to make the effort to ha ng out regularly. But there was still a connection between us, at least I though t so, because we had been there together on the first day. I was ready to greet her with a smile and a casual "Hey," but she practically or gasmed over me. "Karen! I haven t seen you in forever!" Throwing her arms around me, Lindsay pulle d me into a hug. I love getting hugs, actually, but I never give them because of my being an awkward person. "How are you?" she asked. "Good," I told her. She had said it like she actually meant it, which is pretty rare because that question is asked so much in passing that its meaning has been diminished, but I thought it would be weird to unload on this girl who I hadn t h ad a conversation with in months. "How are you?" "I m good," Lindsay replied, smiling at me after we pulled out of the hug. "I ll see you later, Karen." "Bye," I called over my shoulder. It s weird how hugs can make you feel better. My situation was no different but I felt lighter somehow. That light feeling quickly disappeared when I heard "Burnin Up" come from my phon e. I pulled it out of my phone and stared at the Kevin calling it displayed, as though it wasn t enough proof that his ringtone was playing. "You like the Jonas Brothers?" I turned around. Lindsey was waiting for the elevator; obviously she had heard t he ringtone. Actually, Lindsey, I m half in love with one. "A little," I shrugged. "Me too," she said conspiratorially, like she was confessing some big secret. It s a little sad when all your fans who are your age are ashamed to like you. Anyway, Lindsey got props. I waved at her again and headed into the tiny room be tween the hallway and the fire escape to answer the call. My heart was pounding furiously, which only happened when Joe called, but this time it was for differe nt reasons. "Hello?" I answered, taking my usual seat on the floor between the door and the wall. "Hey." That sounded casual. I almost wanted him to be mad at me because at least it mea nt Joe had told him and maybe we still had a chance. I dreaded the accusation of

betrayal, but I could handle it. "What s up?" Come on, Kevin. Yell at me. Be mad. Tell me you know. "Nothing." Except your anger, right? "Nothing?" I asked hopefully. "I just wanted to make sure we re still on for dinner tomorrow night." "Oh." I couldn t remember making these plans but we must have. I suddenly thought of something. "Does this mean you re still trying to make Eva jealous?" "No." His answer was abrupt, without hesitation. "I mean, it doesn t mean I m not," he clarified. "But it s... I m not trying to do anything right now." "Oh," I said again. "But I still have the reservations, so..." "Yeah." After we discussed the technical details of the thing, he paused. "Are you okay? " "Not really," I said truthfully. I don t know what made me tell the truth when I d s pent most of my time lying about everything else. But there was no way out; he c ould tell when something was bothering me. Which was nice, I guess, to have a fr iend who knows you that well. It seems that I m always surprised when Kevin proves that our friendship is real, that just because it was built on shady circumstan ces it didn t taint what we had. "What s up?" I knew I sounded like Joe when I replied, "Life, Kevin. Life." He laughed and didn t press it any further. We hung up not long after that. I didn t allow myself to process what it meant that Joe hadn t told Kevin. I told my self I had reading to do, so I stood up, left the room, and went to my dorm to d o it. The ride to the restaurant was mostly silent. We were both deep in thought, so f ar gone that I didn t even notice the radio wasn t on until he parked the car and on ly then did the silence make itself known to me. "You re quiet," I observed as we got out of the car. I only said it because I knew it was a matter of time before he would say it to me, and I might as well be fi rst. "So are you." "I m just..." I couldn t finish what I was trying to say. "Me too," he said at last. And then: "My grandma s in the hospital."

I instantly turned to look at him. "Grandma Jonas?" He gave me a What are you on? look. "What?" "Oh." Smiling in embarrassment, I explained, "I called her that. In my head. Is she okay?" "We hope so," he said with an upbeat tone. We had almost reached the restaurant. "You know," he said, "it doesn t really make sense that you call her that. She s on my mom s side." "I know." That didn t worry me. What did worry me was remembering how Joe had told me she was his favorite person, and he hers. "Is... is everyone else okay? He shrugged. "I guess." Kevin, I could kill you for your vagueness right now. I wanted to grab him by th e shoulders and ask, What about Joe? How s Joe? Sup with Joe? "Everything s a little weird at home right now." Why? Does it involve Joe? By then we had reached the door. We didn t speak until we were seated at a table. "Why s stuff weird at home?" I asked, reaching for a piece of bread from the baske t. I don t know why I grabbed it. I wasn t even all that hungry. "Just..." Kevin also reached for the bread. "Family." I sighed. Joe would have told me. "You know," Kevin said, staring at his half-eaten hunk of bread, "I m not even hun gry." "Me neither," I said. He looked at the small piece of bread left in my hand, the n at me, and he began to smile. And so did I. Soon we were laughing, because som etimes that s all you can do. If you re miles from happy, and life gives you a baske t of bread you don t want, sometimes the only thing to do is eat it anyway and lau gh at what s wrong, at the absurdity of where you are and what you re doing, at yourse lf and the person who has become your best friend because neither of you has any willpower... or any power over your spiraling lives, period. "I don t want to be here." Kevin tossed the bread into the basket. "Me neither." I knew he meant it in all senses of the word, and so did I. He waved away the waiter how can you do that? Just wave at a waiter and they walk away knowing exactly what you mean? and leaned forward. "I don t want to be anywhere ." He was still smiling, rather ironically. Once again I knew exactly what he meant. All the places we usually wanted to go weren t enough. "Where do you want to be?" "Somewhere Else." The way he said it demanded capitalization. I reached for my purse at my feet. "Let s go there." He nodded once at me, a nod of understanding, empathy maybe, and we stood up, a dine-and-ditch minus the dine, to start our anti-adventure.

Somewhere Else turned out to be somewhere we never would have wanted to go. It was a bar. A pretty sleazy one. I didn t even get carded. I thought that only h appened on TV . "Here s to a fucked-up family," Kevin said, holding up his beer. "I can drink to that." I clinked his glass with my own glass of beer what the hell , right? We were Somewhere Else, and I figured that version of Karen would drink . I made a face as soon as the vile-smelling drink reached my lips. "Turns out I s till don t like beer," I informed him, setting the glass down. Kevin laughed as I tentatively took another sip. "Still don t." "Vodka?" he asked. "Never tried it," I said with a shrug. "We re gonna find you your drink." He pointed at me, a determined look in his eye. First up was vodka and cranberry juice. It wasn t horrible, and I did finish it, b ut I wasn t crazy about it either. Frankly it bored me. "No?" He looked into my eyes, waiting for a response. I wrinkled my nose to show my general apathy toward it. "We re gonna find you one." He said that after the second, third, and fourth drinks turned out to be failure s as well. After that we gave the bartender conflicting instructions: I was plea ding with the bartender to please get me some chocolate milk (how hard would tha t have been? I couldn t see why he was resisting) and Kevin, inspired by this or s omething, insisted the bartender make a White Russian for me instead. The barten der seemed to like this idea but he and Kevin noticed my hesitance. "It is chocolate milk," Kevin told me, "just with... other things." I turned back to the bartender. "Please?" He rolled his eyes and walked away. I was ready to mentally curse him out, but h e returned with a bottle of Nesquik, which he placed in front of me with a sigh. And a crazy straw. I m pretty sure the straw was meant to be patronizing I guess th e bartender was insulted that someone would order chocolate milk of all things but I happen to think crazy straws are pretty cool, so it all worked out. He walked away muttering something about me not having seen The Big Lebowski. Kevin shook his head and I shook my Nesquik. But I could tell he wasn t as gung-ho about the Find Karen a Drink mission as he had initially been, and I credited t hat to the slow emergence of Drunk Kevin. I was a little tipsy, I had to admit. I found it hilarious to blow bubbles into my chocolate milk and watch as the bubbles all piled on top of each other. Drunk Kevin never fully emerged, but hints of him were there. He wasn t spilling h is guts about how depressed he was, but it was obvious Kevin had something depre ssing on his mind. It would take him a few more drinks, I supposed, before he go t to the stage where he would voice these thoughts. Despite the amusement I coul d have had in Drunk Kevin, I knew it would be for the best if he didn t quite come forth.

"Do you want some chocolate milk from a crazy straw?" He looked at me, and then at what I was offering. "Absolutely." "You can finish it," I said generously. "You know," Kevin said after taking a sip from the chocolate milk, "you would ha ve liked the White Russian." "I m sure." I had some peanuts while Kevin finished the Nesquik. After slurping the last of it, he looked at me. "Are you ready to go?" I nodded, he paid the tab, and I stood up. "Whoa," I said, holding on to the cou nter to steady myself. "Lightweight." "Your mom s a lightweight." Kevin just smiled and shook his head. I d forgotten, usually it was Joe and I who had this exchange. He would respond with something like Your face is a lightweig ht and I would be left to think of another insult because for some reason I neve r thought that far ahead. We walked to the car and sat inside, not moving. "I shouldn t drive," he said, sighing. "And neither should you," he added when I o pened my mouth to speak. "I m not " "Neither am I, not exactly. Doesn t matter." I nodded. I knew it was the right thing to do, and on some level I respected him for it, but it did make transportation a bit more complicated. "I ll call a cab," he said. I nodded again. He didn t call it, at least not right away. Instead, he told me, "Thanks." After I looked at him quizzically, he added, "For being with me tonight. I was in a wei rd mood and I felt a little restless." "Me too." Well, about the weird mood, not the restlessness. Restlessness occurs when you don t know where you want to be or what you want to do. I knew exactly wh ere I wanted to be, and who with, but I couldn t be there. "What s going on with you, anyway?" Maybe it was because I was slightly tipsy, but instead of lying I told the truth . Sort of. "I can t tell you." His interest was piqued and I realized my error at once. "Pretend I never said t hat," I instructed, looking at him. Kevin studied me for a minute. "Okay." We continued to sit there in silence.

"I m not drunk," he said after a while, "so this is me talking; I m not rambling or anything, but... I wish I hadn t made it so complicated. I keep thinking about it. " I watched him play with his fingernails. "I wonder sometimes if I should have just told her I wanted her back." "Why didn t you?" "Because I d done it before and I didn t think it was enough. I was too stubborn, I guess... like, I wanted her to want me back. I wanted her to be the one to say i t." "Why didn t she?" "I don t know. I wish I did." "She s an idiot." He turned to me, surprised by my bluntness. "It s true," I said, laughing a little at his surprise. And surprising myself by m y bluntness. I d thought these things all along but I couldn t believe I was saying them, to him of all people. I had tried to support him but maybe it was time he learned my thoughts about it. "She doesn t appreciate you." "She doesn t," he said quietly, like he was realizing it for the first time and mayb e he was. He looked at me. "Do you?" "Appreciate you?" I asked. He nodded. "You re my best friend," I confided, surpris ing myself again. I hadn t wanted to tell him because I knew I wasn t his. There s som ething vulnerable in telling someone how much they mean to you. "I have a best friend." I didn t have time to feel embarrassed because he followed it up with, "But I don t tell him half as much as I tell you. I can tell you anyt hing." "Because I don t judge." "Well, you can t," he said, giving me a small smile. "I ve seen you eat an entire pl ate of pad Thai from Thai Basil and follow it up with a milkshake from Broc s. The re s no way you have any right to judge." I never should have eaten that in front of him. "This, coming from the person who bought a bag of day-old donuts from Kingpin Do nuts and ate them all in two days." "I don t know why I tell you things," he said, shaking his head and laughing a lit tle. "But I like that you can eat. Eva s into salad." "Screw her. You and I are great together." He laughed. "Yeah." Then his eyes met mine: "Do you think so?" "Yeah. That s why I said it." Kevin rolled his eyes. I have no explanation for what happened next. I could blame a number of factors: Kevin s longing for Eva and my longing for Joe. The sadness we both felt as a res ult of what was happening in our lives and where it all seemed to be headed. Per

haps the tipsiness played a small role, but I feel like it s a cop-out when people blame alcohol because intoxication in any form doesn t make things happen; it jus t exacerbates what was already there. That was the theory I had then, anyway. "Would it be so crazy if we were?" he asked. I raised my eyebrows. "Together?" When he nodded, I considered it. "I guess not. No one seems to have trouble buying that we re a couple." A thoughtful silence passed between us. "But your kiss was a little weird." Seeing his look of confusion, I explained, " You know, when we had the tacos the night we met and you kissed me?" "Yeah, that wasn t the best idea. I threw you off-guard, I know. But I am a good k isser." "I m sure." He glanced at me. "Do you want proof?" I looked at him, considered what he was implying. It was harmless and we were be st friends. It was all just part of the anti-adventure, even this. "Sure." Kevin almost seemed surprised, then suddenly looked self-conscious. He moved tow ard me and I sat up a little. Placing one hand on my shoulder, he leaned forward and kissed me. It was soft and chaste, but the kiss had a way of lingering. I wondered if we had broken a barrier but things still felt the same, albeit a l ittle more awkward. He pulled away just far enough for us t nothing had changed just because of too far. But it had. The last thing I en us because of this thing that didn ied to solve it. to look each other in the eye and hope tha a stupid challenge that had probably gone wanted was for something to be weird betwe t matter, so in a split-second decision I tr

Before he could pull away too far, I leaned forward and kissed him. Whatever sur prise he had, he didn t express it. We kissed again, this time a little less gentl e. Eventually he sat back in his seat, murmuring something about how the position h e d had, hovering out of his seat, had been uncomfortable. I nodded and wiped my mouth, averting my eyes. Things were now even more awkward . My mind was racing but no rational thoughts came to me. "Awkward," Kevin observed with a nervous chuckle. "Bad awkward?" "I m not sure," he said slowly. And right then, there in that moment with thoughts I couldn t read spinning around me, neither was I. He looked back at me. "Do you think...?" "I never thought," I said softly. He was moving toward me again, probably thinki ng as I had before that the only way to remove the awkwardness was to kiss again . The kiss was almost familiar this time. While still kissing me he moved slowly b

ack in his seat, bringing me forward until I was kneeling on the edge of his sea t, supported by the thing between our seats. It felt so strange to be kissing Ke vin, but at the same time I could understand why we were doing it. We had been r ejected by the ones we wanted, and so with no one to want us back we turned to e ach other for comfort. It was probably the wrong kind of comfort and I think we knew it but neither wanted to admit it. For one night we wanted to feel wanted. Slowly I moved closer to him until I was in his lap. We were suddenly closer as I sat in front of and on top of this stranger who was looking up at me like I wa s the answer. This time when we pulled away, as I played with one of his curls because I d never been this close to them before, it wasn t as awkward because I knew we d kiss again . It was the only solution we had. Sucking on my bottom lip, his hands went to my waist as mine wrapped around his neck. "Is this okay?" he murmured. I couldn t tell if he was asking about the way his ha nd was grazing up and down my sides, which suggested more, or about what we were doing in general. I didn t answer him. There was nervous giggling when he had trouble with unhooking my bra. The second it slid off, I felt exposed. His shirt was already off by that point, so I reac hed down to unbutton his pants. It was a big step, but we weren t thinking. We had n t been thinking all night. The seat reclined. We were horizontal. I asked him, lying there as his finger traced the waistband of my underwear, bot h pairs of our pants in a discarded pile on the floor, "If you don t have... sex.. . then..." "I do... other things," he said slowly. Kevin was the second boy I d gone that far with. There was very little lust with h im. Neither of us were doing it because of our libidos; it was purely for comfor t. We thought if we kept going we would eventually feel better. I m not sure that we ever did. Even after our breaths quickened and we got a littl e more desperate, after we d just seen each other through something more personal than anything we d ever experienced together, I didn t feel better. I was willing to bet he didn t either. We didn t talk much about it after. We got dressed again. The tissues we d wiped our fingers on right after sat balled-up in a pocket in the car door. I was putting my jacket back on when Kevin called the cab company. We didn t speak while waiting in the car for the cab to arrive. It wasn t an angry s ilence, or a regretful one at least, I don t think so. I was just thinking about how exhausted I was of all of it. And I wanted to cry. What we'd done hadn't change d anything... but it had changed everything. When the cab dropped me off at my dorm, Kevin got out with me and walked me to m y building. We faced each other. No words were said as he hugged me, then let hi s hands rest on my shoulders as he looked me straight in the eyes, like he was m aking sure I was okay.

Our eye contact was unwavering. We tried to assure each other nothing had change d but I think we were just trying to assure ourselves. I shrugged once, he gave me a sad smile, and squeezed my shoulder before turning around. I stood there in front of my building, watching him walk away. Maybe we should have just eaten the bread. I was actually relieved when I woke up to Burnin Up playing from my phone. Giving an apologetic mumble to Molly, who groaned and rolled over in her bed, I sat up and answered the phone, holding it between my shoulder and my ear as I busied m yself with looking for my pajama pants. "Hello?" I had no idea how this conversation would go. I knew, of course, why he was call ing: He d be all, So, last night, that was weird. We good? and I d agree. And life w ould go on. But it could never be as simple as that. He would spend forever beat ing around the bush, and he d try to acknowledge what we d done without actually say ing it out loud. There would be awkwardness on both of our ends as we tried to s ort out the mess we had created for ourselves. I just wanted to get past it hence my relief when he called. It meant he was willing to get past it, too. Sometimes people never get past things and that can ruin everything (see Exhibit Joe). "Hi, Karen." I found the pants hanging on the edge of my chair and put them on. Grabbing my k ey, I hurried out of the room and sat outside my door in the hallway. "Hi," I said breathlessly. There was a pause. "What s up?" You were, last night. Stop being a chicken and just say it. I wasn t about to be the one to bring it up, though, so I just answered, "Nothing. What s up with you?" "Nothing," he said in a way that implied something was definitely up. For someon e who spent so much of his time trying to keep his private life private, he sure sucked at hiding it. Silence. We weren t getting anywhere. Time to hurry things along. "Did you call to talk about last night?" Kevin laughed nervously. "Uh... yeah. If that s... cool." "Mm-hmm." "Okay. Uh... I m sorry. It was really irresponsible and stupid of me to... do that ." "It takes two," I said softly, not caring that I had just quoted the name of an Olsen twins movie. Or that I knew it was the name of an Olsen twins movie. Or th at I had seen said movie. And liked it. "Yeah," he said, breathing what sounded like a sigh of relief relief, I guess, bec ause he was glad to hear me take responsibility for it instead of declare my und ying love for him. "I was just..."

"I know how you felt," I interrupted. "I felt exactly the same way. That s how we got into such a... predicament." He laughed nervously. We weren t over the awkwardness yet, but we were getting the re. "I just... I really wanted it." "Her?" "To feel something." Again, I knew just what he meant. I hadn t felt anything, truly felt anything, sin ce Joe. Or maybe even since before Rachel had left, since with Joe he was never truly there at all, not really. "I think I was just looking for something to make me happy," I confessed. Becaus e I had been happy with Joe. It was fleeting but I had been so close to securing it and making it something real, something I could depend on. "What s gonna make you happy?" I didn t speak for a few moments as I thought about it. There were a lot of things that would make me happy. To have Rachel here. No, actually, to be there in San Francisco with my family. To be home. To have a home here. But none of those th ings were realistic or attainable. And I knew what was: it was one word, one per son... but I couldn t tell Kevin about him. "Something I can t have," I said at last. "And last night... I guess we tried to look for that in each other." "Yeah." I hugged my knees to my chest and rested my chin on my knees. So far thi s conversation had been punctuated by long pauses, but I think the pauses were c alled for. It wasn t a conversation so much as us being there for each other. We d idn t have much to say but we needed a way to sort out our feelings. "It would be so easy, wouldn t it? You and me?" And I agreed that it would. It made all the sense in the world for Kevin and me to be a couple but I just couldn t see him in that way, and neither could he. We kne w that even last night we had known it. "I m sorry that I can t fall in love with you," I said. It must have sounded weird b ut he knew what I meant. "I m sorry, too." Finally, when we could dwell on our self-pity no longer, Kevin sighed. "What are you going to do today?" "Wallow in sorrow. Eat carbs all day." He laughed, and I did too, but I wasn t sur e if he knew that it really was my game plan for the day. "Do you want to hang out?" he asked. "I promise I won t touch you." I laughed. "Yeah, I ll try to, uh, resist you." "Let s just have fun today," he suggested. "No wallowing. Because evidently it can lead to " "Yeah."

It was decided that he would pick me up in an hour, giving me just enough time t o shower and get dressed before we would start what I supposed was the Kevin and Karen Adventure, Part II: Happier and Sans Pseudo-Sex! After our phone conversation it was easier to pretend like the night before hadn t happened. The air had been cleared and we could go back to normal. "I haven t had breakfast yet," I announced as I got into his car. "Just sayin ." "Breakfast first," he said, nodding. "For you, anyway." I put my seatbelt on. "What, you re suddenly above second breakfasts?" (Hobbits ma y have invented the concept of second breakfasts, but Kevin and I were bringing it back. Just like we were bring sexy ba no. We tried to do that last night and it was epic fail. Let s stick to second breakfasts.) "I already had breakfast and I m still full," he told me, giving a small nod at th e end of it. "What did you have?" I asked drily. "An egg-white omelet with spinach, cheese, and salsa. And whole-wheat toast. And half a grapefruit." I was speechless for several seconds, which amused Kevin. "Assuming the first pa rt is true, let me say that I am completely certain you did not eat half a grape fruit." Rolling his eyes as he pulled away from the curb, Kevin admitted, "I may have pu t sugar on it and then licked the sugar off." "Right, that totally counts." "When was the last time you even touched a grapefruit?" "Shut up." As he laughed, I asked another question: "Why the new eating habits?" "I don t know," he said, shrugging, and it became clear that there was certainly a reason for his sudden healthiness. I stared at him until he said, "I just... wa nted today to be a good day." "Yes. I find that eating healthy always impacts the turnout of my day." "Shut up." I almost got a donut to spite him, but I decided to give his theory a try and ch ose a cup of instant oatmeal and a banana when we stopped at a 7-11. Having chos en what I wanted, I came up behind Kevin and watched as he picked up and then pu t down the same orange. "Wuss," I whispered in his ear when he set it down again. "Shut up." He grabbed a string cheese and examined it for a few seconds. "Protei n, fat, low-cal. It s healthy." "What exactly are we doing today?" I asked him after we had paid for our food. W e were both staring at the microwave, waiting for my oatmeal to be ready. He turned to face me. "Something good for us," he told me, biting down on his st

ring cheese. I d expect him to be a biter. I respect the string cheese s wishes and peel away at it like it was meant to be. I m sure Joe has some weird, unheard of w ay of eating it. Maybe he throws it into the food processor and eats it with a s poon, like soft-serve. I nodded, biting my thumbnail while we both looked back at the microwave. I wasn t entirely sure how shopping at the dollar store would benefit us. "I pass by it all the time on my way home, but I never go," Kevin told me, openi ng the door for me as we entered the store. "And come on, everything s one dollar. That s good for us. You know, economy." His logic seemed a little flawed, but I needed no excuse to shop at the dollar s tore. I love dollar stores, because where else can you find headphones for a dol lar? Or a bag of frozen broccoli? I hadn t decided on how I felt about the fact th at pregnancy tests were sold there, for one dollar of course. They had pregnancy tests but no condoms. Hmm. We shared a basket since he was paying anyway (I felt a little guilty at first, that he was so willing to pay for me when we went places, but then I got over it . He s rich and I m not, so suck it) and slowly walked down the aisles. Our first st op had been the candy aisle, and we were very tempted okay, I was very tempted. A pack of eight Reese s peanut butter cups for a dollar. Come on, that is some mirac ulous shit right there. But then Kevin had to go and take the high road by walki ng right past all the candy as though he wasn t interested, leaving me to sigh, st are forlornly at my candy, and set it back on the shelf. Healthy leads to happy, I told myself. Fuck you and your arbitrary theories, Kevin. I caught up with Kevin and we walked together down the aisle. He gave me a quest ioning glance when I tossed a pumice stone into the basket. "Your feet are gross and hard and crusty?" he asked, a touch of judgement in his voice. "In a word, yes." Kevin looked apprehensive and I reminded him, "You said today was about self-improvement." "Gross, now I can t get the image of your feet out of my head." He picked up a pac kage of cotton swabs and then set it back down. "Well, I can t get the image of your penis out of my head, so we re even." Kevin looked at me, eyebrows raised, and then we started laughing. If we had got ten to the level where we could joke about it, we were going to be okay. "Look," I told him, picking up the plastic package containing the pumice stone, "it says it exfoliates and makes your skin softer. Maybe you should get one." "My feet are already perfect." "I seriously doubt " Abruptly we stopped our leisurely stroll down the aisle when we came face-to-fac e with two people who had just turned the corner. "Karen," Joe blurted out, looking at me with wide eyes. "Kevin," he added, ackno wledging his brother to cover up his noticing me first. "Eva," Kevin breathed.

"Kevin." She looked just as awed. I couldn t speak. I only stared back and forth from Joe to Eva. He was holding a b asket and she wasn t. Did that mean they were sharing, like Kevin and I were doing ? Were they a couple now? Did they stop at the dollar store so they could go bac k to her place and share a sexy bottle of I peered into the basket he was holding ge neric brand Pepto Bismol? And were the lemon-scented disinfecting wipes for clea ning up the mess created by their wild, indigestion-free sexual escapades? "What are you guys " "We were " Kevin and Joe both paused mid-sentence. This was getting awkward. I didn t want to look at Joe, nor did I want to look at Eva. I looked down at my feet. I was wea ring my usual generic-brand non-Converse. I couldn t quite identify Kevin s choice o f footwear but it was actually normal for once, no crazy boots or anything. Joe was wearing actual Converse. My eyes landed on Eva s running shoes. Of course she runs. That s how she s able to run from Kevin all the time. Oh. Burn. "Eva, can I talk to you for a sec?" Sharply I looked posed to be all, tch." That s how r Eva. He wasn t at Kevin. That was not the reaction I was expecting. He was sup "What, Joe, you re with my bitch again? Now I mma have to kill a bi he would have done it in a gangster movie, anyway. But he was ove supposed to go talking to her.

But then she had agreed and they were walking off to another aisle together, lea ving Joe and me. If I thought it was awkward before.... Joe pretended to examine a bottle of nail polish. Gently he returned it to the s helf, taking great care to ensure it was facing the right way and in line with a ll the other bottles. When he could ignore me no longer he turned to look me in the eyes (and tell me that he loved me... oh God. I don t listen to that song. Or think about Joe when I do). "Hi." I think he even gave me a small smile as he said that. "Hi," I replied slowly. I was too in shock to return the smile, so I looked at m y hands. Great, the first time I see Joe again and I m still holding a pumice ston e. Now he ll forever associate me with crusty feet. Awesome. I was dying to ask him what he was doing there with Eva. He d liked her once, he c ould probably like her again. But I felt it wasn t my place. "How are you?" he asked. I opened my mouth to speak and then closed it again. Saying I was good associating my condition with anything positive, period would be a lie. I didn t want him to th ink I was good when I wasn t. I toyed with the ponytail holder that adorned my wrist. "I ve been better." He cast his eyes downward. "Me too." My heart fluttered at what he could be implying with those two words. How sad th at my heart flutters at not happenings but mere implications. "What are you doing here?" I asked. ...with that bitch, I wanted to add.

He held up the basket with the wipes and the wannabe Pepto Bismol in it. "Franki e threw up in the car just now." "Oh." It was all I could say. On one hand I was endeared that once again it was him taking care of his brother, but it didn t quell my curiosity about why he was with Eva. I still couldn t ask. Joe turned to face a shelf of cotton balls, and he gently touched a bag of them, letting his fingers run along with the plastic corner of the bag. I picked up a bottle of nail polish remover and feigned interest in it. Desperate for conversation, I found myself asking this beauty: "How do you eat s tring cheese?" His eyebrows raised very slightly as he expressed his surprise at my question. I saw a hint of a smile grace his features while he thought about it. "I peel off the shiny parts you know, on the outside edges? and go around eating those first. A nd then when that s all gone I eat the rest one bite at a time." I knew it would be weird. I nodded and smiled at him. "Interesting." "What about you?" "I peel all the way through," I said with a shrug. "I m boring." Joe nodded. I couldn t believe what we were doing. Staring at him as we stood betw een the nail polish and the cotton balls, I thought about how all we had done wa s discuss trivial things and the barely scratched surface of our shallowest emot ions. So much between us was left unsaid. Joe busied himself by examining a nail file and I put the pumice stone back. We were now standing next to each other, separated only by fingernail clippers. "I miss you," he said quietly, turning over the nail file and putting it on the rack again, not once looking at me. My heart did the fluttery thing again. I whipped my head around to stare directl y at him, too in shock to say anything. Joe looked over at me. It was hard to te ll exactly what emotion his eyes were conveying. "There you are," Kevin said, entering the aisle with Eva behind him and complete ly interrupting the beautiful moment Joe and I were about to have. Joe seemed to snap back to reality as he announced, "I ve gotta go." He gave Kevin and Eva a polite nod and I watched him take his basket to wait in line at the c heckout counter. Eva seemed to get the "gtfo" vibes I was sending her (the vibes I sent while sta ring at my feet because I m such a coward) because she announced her need to be so mewhere and gave Kevin a hug, said good-bye to me, and left. I watched with sati sfaction as she actually walked out of the store, meaning she wasn t with Joe. Tha t or she was going to wait for him in his vomity car with Frankie. Oh God. "What was that?" I asked. "Why did you go and talk to her? And hug her? Today s ab out getting healthy. And she s a donut! One of those apple fritters that are like twice the size of regular donuts." Mmm, apple Eva fritters.

Not looking in the least bit surprised by what I d said, Kevin shrugged and smiled at me. "I told her I was done." I swallowed and looked at him. My first reaction was to be proud, but then I won dered what it meant for our fake relationship. I no longer felt as though Kevin and I needed to be using each other to hang out; it had been confirmed that we w ere best friends (ish) and we were closer than ever before, but I was just curio us. I knew it wasn t the time to ask about it. "And you feel good about this?" After he nodded, I hugged him. It really was great that he was actually moving o n, though I was envious that he was actually getting healthier and I was still i n the same place. Over Kevin s shoulder I could see Joe walking out of the store w ith his bag. He walked in the opposite direction Eva had. Oh snap. To get healthier I think I needed Joe. He was good for me. It wasn t healthy how w e came to be, with the lies and sneaking around, but this time it was out in the open (mostly). Before we were a bean burrito with cheese and sour cream healthy a t the core but unhealthy with the add-ins. Now that Joe knew everything, we coul d be a bean burrito with cheese. If we told Kevin we d be even healthier and would have no cheese; we d have the healthy shit like cilantro and lettuce and tomatoes . I have no idea where I m going with this but suddenly I really wanted cheese. When Kevin and I pulled away, instead of congratulating him on making such a tur naround, I blurted out, "Why was she here with Joe?" He didn t think it was a weird question. I suppose he thought I was asking more ab out Eva and not about Joe. "She said they ran into each other." Hmm. How coincidental. I wasn t too suspicious, though, on account of the fact tha t Joe misses me, but an explanation was still needed. "You don t think they..." Kevin glanced at me, realizing what I was implying. "No," he said, shaking his h ead firmly. "I don t always trust her, but I trust him. He wouldn t do that to me ag ain." I knew if I said anything I would somehow make it worse because that s what I do, so I took the pumice stone off the shelf and put it back in the basket. Who am I kidding; my feet need it. We ended up buying the pumice stone and a box of granola bars. As we walked out of the store, musing about the exact healthiness of the granola bars we had chos en (anything flavored "chocolate chocolate chip" couldn t be that healthy, I argue d, but Kevin disagreed), we saw Joe outside his car in the parking lot. The back seat door was open and it looked like he was making use of the disinfecting wipe s. Frankie, arms crossed, was leaning against the hood of the car and watching J oe clean up the backseat. I followed Kevin to where they were. "What happened?" he asked, surveying the sc ene. "Frankie threw up," Joe said, pronouncing his brother s name like he was pure evil and had done it on purpose. With some disgust he put the wipe he d been using on top of the car, where I saw a pile was growing, and reached for a clean one. "You re the one who took me to Seor Fish," Frankie retorted. "I said I didn t want fi sh." Joe set the wipe down and lifted his head out of the car. "And yet you ate two f

ish burritos and chocolate milk." "Well, you drove too fast." "Kevin," Joe whined. "Make him clean it up." I grinned. It was like they were all little kids again. Joe still looked to Kevi n to solve their spats even though he was nineteen and perfectly capable of solv ing it himself. "Frankie," Kevin said with an air of sternness. That was all it took reluctantly h e dragged his feet over to where Joe was. Joe shoved the can of wipes at Frankie and assumed the position leaning against the hood of the car. He looked at me a nd I realized I d been staring, so I instantly looked away. "What are you two up to?" Joe asked, glancing from me to Kevin. Kevin held up the bag he was holding. "Just taking advantage of dollar store dea ls." Never thought I would hear a Jonas brother say that. Joe nodded thoughtfully. I could have sworn he looked at me for a split second b ut I wasn t certain. "What about you?" Kevin asked. "Watching Frankie. Mom and Dad are out and apparently I m the only responsible kid , so..." There was a tinge of resentment in his voice but Kevin didn t pick up on it. " Responsible or girlfriendless ?" Frankie piped up. Kevin laughed, and Joe narrowed h is eyes at both of them. Then he looked at me and we had a moment. His eyes were saying, See, it s funny because Kevin s totally girlfriendless since I know he s pret ending and you know I know but he doesn t know it. And you re more my girlfriend tha n his. Also, I love you. I may have added that last part. "I m done," Frankie announced. He gathered the discarded wipes and put them in a p lastic bag. "Kevin, where are you going? I don t wanna ride in a vomity car." "Gee," Joe said, rolling his eyes, "I wonder whose fault the vomity car is." "Yours." "No, it s yours." Kevin shrugged and broke the fight by saying, "Yeah, we could drop you off. I wa s gonna stop by the house anyway. Come on." Frankie shoved the plastic bag into Joe s hands and they began to walk toward Kevi n s car together. I stayed standing there for a few more seconds as Joe and I look ed at each other. If he was conveying a message with his eyes I didn t know what i t was; I was just waiting for something to happen. Remembering I had to go with them, I gave Joe a small wave. He returned it. My heart fluttered. I turned around and followed Kevin and Frankie. When I reached the passenger sid e door of Kevin s car I looked over at Joe. He was still standing there, still wat ching. I opened the car door and got inside, deaf to the chatters of Kevin and Frankie. That moment of seeing Joe was actually the most mediocre part of my day. The bes

t and the worst were yet to come. I decided I had some reordering to do. My list of favorite Jonas brothers, a list I had mentally created upon first mee ting them, had gone: 1. Kevin 2. Frankie 3. Nick 4. Joe I had first listed Frankie as my default favorite Jonas Brother (behind Kevin, o f course) because he was the youngest and I figured we needed to have some solid arity. I d tried to do the same with Nick but he was so shafty he d been pushed to l ast well, second-last. Joe was originally last because I didn t at first get his sma rt-assery. But Frankie was just being mean, vomiting in Joe s car and refusing to clean it up and refusing to ride in it. Then again he was nine. Perhaps it wasn t what he did but who he did it to my favorite Jonas brother. It was weird to think, that Kevin, my best friend, was being pushed to second pl ace, but it was happening. Because I don t think about Kevin as I m falling asleep. I didn t create a playlist on my mp3 player of songs that make me think of Kevin. I don t think about Kevin all the time and I don t miss him deeply when he s not aroun d. That made the list... 1. Joe 2. Kevin 3. Nick 4. Frankie Suck on that, Frankie. Suck on that. These truly were the things I thought about as Kevin drove Frankie and me to the ir house. And somewhere in the back of my mind sat a man whose sole purpose was to analyze Joe s saying he missed me and what it meant. Unfortunately that man was not doing his job at all; every few seconds he would shout "JOE MISSES YOU!" an d squeal like a schoolgirl. That stupid man. I d fire him but his response would be "JOE MISSES YOU!" and then we d both squeal and I d lose my train of thought. Kind of like what I was doing no w. "Kevin..." Frankie moaned from the backseat. Kevin glanced in the rearview mirror with little interest, then his eyes quickly widened when he saw Frankie. I turned around to see him holding his stomach and looking a little pale. "No, no, no, not in the car!" Kevin desperately shouted, like it was something e ither of them could control.

Thinking fast I dumped everything out of the dollar store bag to hand to Frankie , but it was too late. He threw up right there on his seat, between his legs. As the car moved forward the vomit edged back to cling to Frankie s jeans. Double gr oss. As Kevin sighed, Frankie looked sheepishly at him. "Sorry..." "You are never eating fish again." "I don t want to eat fish again." The ride the rest of the way there was silent. I m not sure how Frankie handled si tting in his own filth but he didn t complain once. Whatever, he was still number four. We pulled into the driveway. I saw no signs of Joe or his car. Quickly Kevin got out of the car and went to Frankie s side to assess the damage. "Gross," he mumbled, taking it all in as Frankie sighed and unbuckled his seat b elt. "Come on. Let s get inside. Clean yourself up and then clean my car." He didn t sound mad, just annoyed. They began to walk up the driveway to the front door. No one said anything to me but I figured it was implied that I follow them, which I was about to do when J oe s car suddenly pulled up to the curb. I stood there, frozen, still holding the car door I had been about to slam shut. He got out of the car, holding the dollar store bag in one hand and his keys in another. "What happened?" he asked, looking at me with wide eyes. The wideness could be a ttributed to surprise at the situation or because he suddenly found himself talk ing to me. I d like to believe it was the latter. I was certain I had my own wideeyed-ness going on because Joe seemed to come out of nowhere. "Frankie... he threw up again. In Kevin s car," I explained ineloquently. Joe s eyes darted to the inside of Kevin s car, seeing through the open car door the mess on the seat. "Oh." I expected him to say it was Frankie s problem to deal with, or maybe Kevin s, but i nstead he reached into his dollar store bag and pulled out the wipes. I watched as he walked around to the other side of the car, opened the door, and started t o clean up the vomity mess. Ordinarily I d have judged him for voluntarily cleaning up such a thing, but somet hing told me he had other reasons. This something was confirmed when Joe, after tossing aside a used wipe and reaching for another, looked at me across the car. He didn t say anything but his brown eyes locked with mine for more than is norma l. There was a pile of vomit and two passenger seats between us, so such a look couldn t have led to any physical action unless he was willing to make that gross journey over to me, but there was definitely something. Something that was enough to make me ask for a wipe so I could help clean up, to o. "So..." I couldn t bring myself to talk about us, exactly, because it seemed too p ersonal, but I couldn t not say anything, so I resorted to something I had been wo ndering. "Why were you there with Eva?" Briefly our eyes met and then I looked b

ack down, wiping at the brown slime on the seat. Frankie, you disgust me. "I gave her a ride," he explained, looking at me in that intense way he has. "We ran into her when we were getting something to eat, and then we started talking , and we had lunch together. I was giving her a ride to her apartment because sh e takes the bus, and then Frankie threw up and she lives down the street from th e dollar store, so..." Joe looked back down at the towelette he held. He played with a corner of it until the edge was fraying. "Kevin s done with her," I volunteered. I think just to contribute something to th e conversation. Joe blinked as he looked up at me. "Oh." I nodded. I handed him the used wipe and he threw it into the plastic bag on his side, and then he handed me another. I almost wanted to add something about how I was glad Kevin was done, but it seemed... I don t know. Catty. "She s not a bad person," Joe said, as though he could read my mind. "Oh," I said dumbly. I gave the spot on Frankie s seat another wipe. Most of the m ess itself was gone but its essence was still there. "I mean, I get it. She wasn t trying to hurt him. She was just..." Joe looked down and fingered the edge of the wipe. "Confused. She didn t know if she could be all in, and she didn t want to hurt him by backing out later, so... she was just tryi ng to make up her mind." I nodded slowly. I laid the wipe flat out on the stain and pressed into it, tryi ng to absorb as much as I could. "Which is kind of what I was doing." I looked up at that. It wasn t just the words but the way he said them like he was t rying too hard to be casual because he knew he was saying something big. It took me a second to figure out what was big about his words, but when I got it my he art started fluttering. I think Joe was blushing but I couldn t tell for certain. I kept my eyes on him as he didn t meet my eyes but continued speaking: "I mean... I wasn t confused about h ow I felt, but... just... like, the situation. And I m not..." Now he looked direc tly at me. "I m not confused anymore." My heart was beating rapidly in my chest. I leaned forward a little, resting my knee on the edge of the seat that wasn t all vomity. I tried to sound normal as I asked, "So what have you... decided?" After what felt like the longest silence of my life, Joe looked down and then ba ck at me. "I missed you. I miss you. And you and Kevin, it... it doesn t matter." I was so stunned I didn t even smile for several seconds after that confession. "S o we could go back to... before?" As he nodded, he gave a slight grin. "I don t care about Kevin now that I know I m n ot, like, betraying him." At that I averted my eyes in shame upon remembering how Joe had felt, what he d sa id, after I told him the truth. But I forced myself to face him again. "So... we r e good?"

Then Joe s half-hint of a smile turned into a wide grin. I missed that. "We re good. " I smiled back just as widely. Joe looked like he was about to say something when suddenly the garage door rumbled. I jumped a little and almost hit my head on t he ceiling of the car s interior, as I was still maintaining that awkward half-sta nding/half-leaning pose. Slowly the garage door began to open. It was so ominous ... and so poorly-timed. When the door rose fully to the top, I saw Kevin standing in the back of the gar age, holding the button he had just pressed to open the door. He was standing ha lfway in the garage and halfway in the house, the door leading to the house stil l ajar with his hand keeping it open. "Karen? What are you doing?" "Oh. Just, um, cleaning the car. Joe s " "I m helping." Kevin made a face. "Why?" "If you leave it there too long, it ll get stained. It s gone now, don t worry about i t." Kevin made an aw! face. I don t know if that s actually a thing, but if not, he just invented it. "You didn t have to do that!" "Well..." I began dumbly. "I had the wipes," Joe said, holding up the canister, "so..." "Well..." Clearly he wasn t used to such random kindness. "Thanks. Do you guys nee d me to " "No," Joe interrupted him. "It s done now, we re just..." "Airing the car out," I finished. "For a few minutes." "Thank you," Kevin said again, this time with even more sincerity, if possible. "Frankie s taking a shower." Joe and I both nodded like it was the most interesting piece of news we had hear d all week. "I m gonna put his clothes in the wash now," he continued. I watched his hand that was still holding the door ajar. Piss or get off the pot, dude. Except don t piss . Get off the pot. Leave the pot. Leave the fucking bathroom. Don t even wash your hands. Just go. "Great," Joe chirped in a false-upbeat way. Kevin nodded. Joe and I nodded again. Finally he turned around and went back ins ide. Ideally he would have also pressed the button again to shut the garage door , but this was okay, too. We turned to each other and grinned. "Messing with Kevin should be fun," Joe said, and I laughed nervously. After a p ause, he said, "Do you want to, uh... come over to my side? It s way more fun over

here." I knew what he was getting at. I could feel a blush rising up my cheeks but I tr ied to play it cool as I coyly asked, "Is it?" "Oh yeah. You get a great action shot of the puke stains over here, and the arom a is... heavenly." That made me want to laugh and vomit insist." I shut the door on my side s practically freaking out as I made tting to Joe after what felt like an at the same time. I chose to and walked around the car to the walk because knowing how eternity was almost too much laugh. "If you his side. I wa close I was ge to bear.

And then I was standing in front of him and he was looking down at me he was sur prised to see me there. "Hi," I said quietly, suddenly shy. "Hi," he said back in just the same way. He put a hand on my waist not naturally, like his hand just happened to smoothly land there, but he actually placed it th ere with precision. Then he leaned down and kissed me. It was tentative, much li ke our first (and only) kiss, but with more conviction. Before he hadn t been sure if what we were doing was right, but now, as he took a small step closer to me and pulled me closer, I was sure he knew. My arms moved up to wrap around his ne ck I couldn t even concentrate on the kissing itself because all I could think of was how good it felt, to be there, actually holding him, so close I could smell a l ovely soapy scent on his neck, and everything was okay because he knew everythin g. Then the man in the back of my mind whose job had been to analyze why Joe missed me well, he had been freaking out this entire time, but suddenly he reminded me t hat not everything was okay because Kevin was still out of the loop. But I reasoned with the man that Joe was my number one (how MySpace of me) and i t was most important to sort things out with him first. Then I d move on down the list. Well, by "move on down the list" I suppose I just mean Kevin. I don t think there s anything I have to say to the rest of them. To Nick I d probably say, "Please be m y friend," and I d tell Frankie to lay off the fish burritos. All these thoughts were racing through my head while Joe was kissing me. I wish I could have gotten lost in the moment, but unfortunately that s not how my mind w orks. It wasn t the kiss itself that blew me away (though of course it was pretty great) but it was feeling so close to him, with his arms around me, and being able to hold him when a day ago I d nearly written off that prospect forever. I was the one to break the kiss, mainly out of paranoia that Kevin would come ba rging in and interrupt us even more obnoxiously, maybe by pulling out the lawn m ower and deciding the grass needed cutting right that second. "I didn t think the best part of my day would come from cleaning up my brother s puk e," Joe said quietly. I smiled and, when I removed my arms from around his neck to stand back a bit, saw that he was smiling as well. "Me too," I said without thinking.

He squinted a little at me, grinning in a know-it-all way. "That doesn t even make sense." "I meant," I began, rolling my eyes, "that this was also the best part of my day ." He made a face at my poor communication skills and I giggled. Yes, giggled. I t s funny what reunions and vomit can do to a person. "So..." Joe looked down, feeling the edge of my T-shirt with his fingertips. "If you didn t already have a boyfriend I d consider taking on that role..." He looked back up at me with a playful expression. Hell yes official statuses. Bring it on. I rolled my eyes to hide the fact that the man in my head was squealing yet agai n. "I would love to be your girlfriend, Joe. I m so glad you asked." I said it sar castically but only because I was too afraid to say it with sincerity. He smiled softly, reading through the sarcasm. "Speaking of your boyfriend, he s p robably wondering where we are." It was a little weird to have Joe speaking to m e so nicely. Usually there was some element of sarcasm or joking going on with u s, but here we were with our guards down being... nice. I sighed. I knew the magical moment had to end sometime. He smiled as though he could read my mind and knew exactly how I felt. "You go first. I ll see you inside," he said, giving me a quick kiss... and three or four more. Or maybe that was me. "Go," he repeated, laughing and pushing me a way from him. I laughed as I headed up the driveway feeling insanely giddy. I don t know what made me look up just then. Maybe because I just wasn t thinking or watching where I was going because all I could think about was Joe. (Not that I m ever really thinking about anything else, but now it was different. More... leg it. I d probably come up with a more eloquent adjective if I spent more time with Shakespeare.) Anyway, I did look up. And found myself staring into the wide eyes of Frankie wh o, from his bedroom on the second floor, had a perfect view of Joe and me. For a moment I was frozen. My own eyes widened, though I doubt they reached the level of surprise his were expressing. Weakly, because all the energy I d had suddenly seemed to drain out of me, I turne d around. Joe was kneeling down picking up the discarded wipes, completely unawa re of the situation. "Joe?" "Huh?" He stood up. And then his eyes followed the direction I motioned to with my head. There we were, Joe and I staring up at Frankie and Frankie staring down at us. P erhaps we thought that just by looking at him we would be able to telepathically communicate the entire situation to him and also beg for his understanding and compliance. Then, in a flash, Frankie turned and ran from the window.

I turned to Joe and for a split second we looked at other in wide-eyed silence. Joe said well, more like shouted one word: "Shit!" That was all it took for us to race toward the house at full speed. Even though we hadn t spoken I knew we both had the same goal: We had to find Frankie before h e ruined everything. There I was again, running as fast as I could to chase after a Jonas brother and i t wasn t even the first time. Different brother, and for different reasons, but st ill. This has got to stop. Especially because I don t run. Hence why I was gasping for air before we had even reached the stairs. "Karen, come on," Joe called over his shoulder as he took the stairs by force, t wo by two. I could feel the reverberations as I leaned against the rail, momenta rily pausing to catch my breath. I glared at Joe, who had neared the top of the stairs, and sighed before racing up them myself. When I got to the top, I couldn t find Joe. As I was contemplating his whereabouts he sprinted from a room I could only assume was Frankie s. I knew from the blank look on his face that Frankie wasn t there. We shared a look of helplessness, and the possibility occurred to me that maybe Frankie wasn t there because he was alre ady telling Kevin everything. I felt sick. Then a blur emerged from another room. "I m telling!" it said angrily. "No!" Joe shouted emphatically, intentionally crashing into the blur and causing it to stop. There was Frankie, looking dizzy, confused, and mad. He didn t even a cknowledge me but instead engaged in an intense staring match with Joe. "Come on ," he said, forcefully grabbing Frankie by the arm and dragging him toward his r oom. I followed, though with hesitation. I shut the door behind me and Frankie jerked his arm away from Joe s grasp. "What are you doing?" he hissed, looking at Joe. "She has a boyfriend." He fixed his j udgy gaze on me. "You have a boyfriend." "Not exactly," I quickly said, squirming under his stare. Under any other circum stances I would have laughed, that this nine-year old kid wearing a white t-shir t and green boxers was glaring at me, but under these circumstances I was scared shitless. "It s complicated," Joe said quietly, rather pleadingly. I glanced at Joe, suddenl y remembering that was exactly what I had said to him as we stood in the hall a few weeks earlier, when he was confused about my relationship with Kevin and I w as struggling to find the words to explain it without giving it all away. When Frankie looked back at Joe I could see the judginess in his eyes faltering a little. I could tell he was torn, unsure where his loyalties laid, knowing tha t with whatever decision he came to he would be siding with one of his brothers an d alienating the other. "Don t tell him, Frankie, please don t tell him." "Why shouldn t I?" "Let us tell him. And then we ll explain it to you. It s not as bad as it seems." "You don t have to explain anything to me. I m not stupid; I know what this is." I c ould have empathized with him then. When you re the youngest everyone assumes ever ything has to be spelled out for you to get it. Then I remembered Frankie was be

ing a little bitch, so no empathy for him. "You don t," Joe said softly. He continued to glare at Joe. "You re gonna tell him." It wasn t a question and it w asn t a statement it was somewhere in between. "Yes," Joe assured him. Frankie looked away and the moment was over. Joe looked him over, at his shirt and boxers. "I thought you were taking a shower." "I was about to," he said pointedly. Joe motioned to the bathroom and Frankie si ghed as he marched off. When the bathroom door was shut behind him, I turned to Joe. "Oh my God," I said with an exasperated sigh. He shook his head and gave me a look that completely resembled my sigh but in fa ce form, if that makes any sense. Something dawned on me. "It s quiet," I said suspiciously. "Where s Kevin?" Were this a horror movie, this would be the part when Kevin jumps up behind us w ith a chainsaw and cuts our heads off. I don t know why he s the murderer or why my mind went there. In any case, this was real life and the only thing to happen wa s Joe s nonchalant shrug. "He s in the laundry room. It s in the basement," he added. "He wouldn t have heard an ything." I nodded. My uneasiness remained. "Did you mean it?" I asked. "About telling him ?" "I guess we have to at some point," he said, like it hadn t occurred to him until just then. For a moment he appeared fearful of the prospect, but then our eyes m et and he grinned. "I guess we ll let Future Joe and Karen deal with that." I smiled slowly, gazing at him in wonder. The cheesiest of thoughts ran through my head: Maybe we really are meant to be. I know, I can t believe I would think su ch a lame thing. It s funny what a guy can do to you. I felt the need to break away from such lame thoughts. "I guess I should... go c heck on my boyfriend." "I m right here," Joe said, shrugging and straight-faced, even pretending to look a little confused that I would consider anyone else to be my boyfriend. "I know," I said quietly. As I backed out of the room I was smiling hugely at what he had said and so was he. I paused on the stairs, picking at my bottom lip and dwelling on what had ju st happened because I still wasn t over it. "The door to the basement s in the rec room," Joe called out from the room. Maybe because he could have seen me standing there and thought I was lost, or maybe to snap me and perhaps even himself back to reality. Regardless I nodded and headed in that direction, though still in a daze. Something was happening, really happeni ng, between us. And true, something had always been happening slowly between us, ever since the day I met him, but this something was real more concrete. It was a foundation. Maybe it wouldn t be so terrifying to tell Kevin after all, now that Joe and I were Real, like the Velveteen rabbit.

Apparently the only works of literature I can accurately reference are children s books. I found the rec room, the place I hadn t been in since Joe and I stayed up all nig ht playing Donkey Kong, and the door that led to the basement. My house doesn t ha ve a basement so all I had to rely on were movies (namely those of the horror ge nre). I expected creaky decaying wooden stairs and cobwebs, so I was surprised t o be walking down sturdy concrete steps into a well-lit room. Kevin was putting detergent into the washing machine. And he wasn t wearing pants. This makes the third time I ve seen him pantsless. Perhaps he s dabbling with exhib itionism. "Hi," I greeted him. "Hey," he said without turning around, tapping the lid of the detergent upside-d own against the opening in the machine to make sure the soap had all gone inside . "Sorry about this," he added. He faced me and leaned against the machine as it started to rumble. "I don t know how a trip to the dollar store turns into vomit and laundry." "It s okay. I like spending time with your brothers." One in particular. Also, not Frankie. Kevin smiled at me and finished screwing the cap back on the detergent. "Oh," he said, suddenly aware of his pantslessness, "I m washing my jeans." "I figured." "I m gonna put some pants on," he announced, heading for the stairs. "Wanna come t o my room?" Following him up the steps, I said, "You re not going to seduce me, are you?" "Ugh," he replied, sounding disgusted at the mere thought, and I laughed. Minutes later I was sitting on Kevin s bed as he decided between identical pairs o f skinny jeans. My mind was on something else entirely. "What s gonna happen with us?" "Hmm?" He finally decided on a pair and was working on shimmying into them. Than k God he s shameless or I wouldn t be able to enjoy this moment of watching him wres tle with jeans too tight for him. "Now that you re done with Eva. Are we going to break up ?"

"I ve thought about it..." Kevin paused to lean on his bedpost for support as he s himmied away. "And I think it would be too sudden. I mean, you re kind of my best friend so it wouldn t make sense for me to tell everyone we broke up and then I st ill see you all the time." "Right." I hadn t thought of that. "So we break up when you go home for the summer. We have three months to cool of f and when you come back we decide we can be friends." With one final jump, Kevi n was in the jeans. He zipped and buttoned them and joined me on the bed. "That s smart," I said, and I meant it.

If he were Joe he would have said, I know. That s why I said it. However, Kevin is not a smartass, so he smiled at me and said, "Thank you." Sincerity is the one thing Joe has trouble with. He can be jokey or sarcastic but rarely ever sincere . He tries sometimes but it's clear that it's hard for him to say something he's kept to himself for so long. To be honest, I even like that about him. "You are quite welcome." We sat on his bed for a while in silence. We had gotten to the point where silen ces between us weren t awkward. It was the kind of silence best friends can have, where they re so comfortable with each other that there s no need to fill the silenc e. "I guess I m done being healthy." I turned to Kevin. "Why?" "I did everything I had to do. And I want a donut." I laughed. "Me too." Only to the donut part, anyway. I pushed away the thought t hat I still had to tell Kevin about Joe, but I tried to reassure myself with the excuse that Joe and I hadn t yet talked over how exactly we were going to do this . We had only just gotten back together (or was it just "together" without the " back" since we weren t official before?) today; there was no rush. I hoped. "You ready?" Kevin asked, oblivious of all the thinking I d been doing. I nodded a nd we got up. As we reached the end of the stairs, Frankie and Joe were there to greet us in t he living room. Using "greet" in the loosest sense possible. And I don't know ho w Frankie managed to get in and out of the shower so quickly but his hair was st ill wet. I bet he showered really fast just to get out and bother me more. I wou ldn't put it past him. "Where are you going?" Frankie asked in an accusatory manner that was obviously meant for me but still addressed to the both of us. He s pretty talented with this whole judgy business. And that s the only thing he s talented in. Ohhh. "Out," replied Kevin. "Don t leave me with Joe." Joe narrowed his eyes at the demon child (I like the sound of that. I may refer to him by that all the time now. In my head, at least). "Like you re a picnic?" Frankie (I didn t feel right calling a nine-year old Demon Child . Damn him) gave Joe a look, the meaning of which was quite clear to everyone except Kevin. Who, in all of his blissful ignorance, simply asked, "Why don t you want me to leave you w ith Joe?" "It s no fun when it s just two people." Joe seemed to take offense to that, but wisely chose not to say a word. "Please? We could play Monopoly," Frankie suggested. Such a suggestion would have ordinarily made me love him because I was obsessed with that game with I was little, but Rachel never wanted to play it with me bec ause she said I d just quit halfway through. (And okay, so every game of Monopoly we played before I was nine ended with me quitting halfway through. But still.)

However, as of today Frankie was my enemy. So no Monopoly points for him. "I d like to but Karen and I have to get going." Kevin s even polite to his damn bro ther, and the demonic one at that? He s far too nice for his own good. "Karen," Frankie addressed me sweetly, "don t you want to stay and play Monopoly?" It was my turn to narrow my eyes at the demon. He just kept smiling. Resignedly I said, "I d love to." While Frankie went to go get the game, Kevin leaned in to my ear. "You don t have to." "No," I said, inwardly dying a little. "I want to." Joe and I shared a look of m utual sympathy. Two hours into the game and the tension was mounting. I sat across from Joe, wit h Kevin on my left and Frankie on my right. So far Frankie had been well-behaved throughout the game: suspiciously so. Every so often Joe and I exchanged looks of anticipation and not the good kind. Something was going to happen, I could feel it. To make things worse, I was winning. By a lot. And Frankie was losing. By a lot. I hadn t done any of it on purpose; I had just gotten lucky. I didn t care what hap pened in the game from the start, so my strategy was to buy everything I landed on. When the time came to trade properties, I made dumb deals, sabotaging myself in the process. When houses and hotels started springing up, instead of saving my money in preparation I blew it all on buying houses for my only full set: St. James Place, Tennessee Avenue, and New York Avenue. How did I know Frankie woul d land on those every time he went around the board? And was it my fault I hadn t yet landed on his hotels at Park Place and Boardwalk, hotels he d mortgaged all hi s other property to buy? (Also, really? Park Place and Boardwalk? Only amateurs buy into those properties. I judge.) Every time Frankie had to pay me rent, he glowered at me. I guess I was exaggera ting a little even Frankie s not that vengeful. But he did sigh a few times. That se emed a little unnecessary. "Do we have any ice cream?" I looked at Frankie, surprised that he hadn t said something like I want that bitc h s head on a stick. Well, I guess I m embellishing on this hatred thing a little. I t was just something I was fixating on because I knew he had a plan. He had to h ave a plan. You don t coerce your brothers and their girlfriend into a midday game of Monopoly without having a plan. "No?" Kevin answered uncertainly, looking to Joe for a definite answer. At first I wondered why he would look to Joe, but then I remembered: Joe was, as he had hinted at a few times before, the only one around. He was the one who stayed hom e when his family was elsewhere. He babysat for Frankie when he was sick, he bab ysat for him now... he did everything because no one else was around to. Why he did it why he wasn t bailing on them like the rest of his family was a mystery to me. Joe nodded. "Mint chocolate chip," he said with an eye-roll. Clearly he did not approve of this flavor. As Frankie got up, Joe added, "You re not getting any" in a stern kind of voice that I liked. I fought the temptation to stick my tongue o ut at Frankie. He paused. "Why not?"

Because you re a snit, that s why. "Uh, maybe because you threw up twice today and the last thing you need is ice c ream." Okay, that too. "But I m feeling better." "At least wait til we have dinner."

Abjectly Frankie sat back down. I rolled the dice and landed on Kevin s Baltic Avenue. There s some controversy abou t the purple Baltic and Mediterranean Avenue spaces. Some say they re a waste of m oney, but once you put hotels on them you ve got yourself some solid investments. "Thank you for choosing Baltic," Kevin said very formally to me once I paid him. Since we d begun playing Kevin had been acting this way. Certain people, I ve found , have entire Monopoly personas, and Kevin s one of them. "Any time, Kevin," I replied just as formally. "And you gave me exact change," he marveled, putting his money away. "You re a gre at girlfriend." At that I tensed up and shared a glance with Joe, then did my best to avoid Fran kie s glare. "Yep," I agreed meekly. The game went somewhat smoothly for the rest of the course. Joe was the first to go bankrupt, and then Kevin. For twenty awkward minutes Frankie and I were pitt ed against each other. I thought it was over when, for the first time ever, I la nded on his Boardwalk. "That ll be two thousand dollars," he gleefully informed me. I pretended to be exasperated when really I was glad to finally be getting somew here close to bankruptcy with this damn game. Except... "Oh," I murmured sadly to myself when I remembered my secret stash the Monopoly mo ney I d been squirreling away under the couch I was leaning against. There I would stash some money from the rent people paid me, in addition to any money won fro m the Chance or Community Chest cards. It was just habit, something I d done since I was little. This time I d been lucky to never have needed to count it because I still hadn t landed on the Pay 10% of your income square. In this game I had gott en lucky when it was the last thing I wanted. Frankie s face fell when I reached behind me and pulled out a large pile of colorf ul bills. He frowned at me when I handed him what I owed him, and then stared at the pile of money still in my hand. "Where d that come from?" he asked. "My savings," I told him, almost apologetically. "I forgot it was back there." "Savings?" "Yeah. To fall back on in case I land on Boardwalk or something," I explained. F

rankie just stared at me, and I could see him mentally piling the facts in a cas e against me. "But you re the banker." "Hence why you should heed my financial example," I replied in the same tone he used. "I meant that money could have come from the bank! You re cheating!" he accused. Forgetting that I was a nineteen-year old arguing with someone a decade younger than me, I retorted childishly, "No I m not!" "Yes you are!" "Frankie," Kevin the peacemaker interjected, "Karen wouldn t cheat." "Yes, she would," he said knowingly. In all this time he hadn t taken his angry br own eyes off of me. At first I had been staring back but hearing him go there ma de me uncomfortably avert my eyes. "Dude," Joe said quietly in a not cool kind of way. "Don t tell me what to do!" he said heatedly. "I didn t!" Joe snapped back. I caught a peek at Frankie. He was staring at something past me, breathing faste r than usual and contemplating. Wondering if he should take the risk. Like someone with their finger poised over an important button: he had all the power but had n t yet made the decision. I tried to make eye contact with him like there was no tomorrow. Telepathically I tried to send him a one-word message, repeating it over and over again in my b rain until the repetitions matched the beat of my heart, pounding loudly in my c hest and my ears: Don t. For one moment time stopped. Frankie felt it. Joe must have felt it. I felt it. Kevin didn t. "What s going on?" he asked slowly with tentative suspicion, like he didn t even wan t to know the answer. His tone was light; I knew he expected it to be trivial. Don t. "Karen and Joe were kissing," he blurted out. "What?" Kevin nearly laughed. "When?" I sighed. Fuck. Fuck. "Today. When you were doing laundry." Frankie sounded less sure of himself. I lo oked at Joe, then at Kevin, who was looking around at all three of us with disbe lief still in his eyes. "Yeah right," he said with a laugh. I wanted to laugh along with him but I could n t bring myself to do it. Joe was looking down, playing with his Monopoly piece. "Really?" His voice was full of a different kind of disbelief now this time it was

clear that he was starting to believe it despite not wanting to. "We were gonna tell you," Joe said without looking up. "Tell me what?" Was that an edge of anger I detected in Kevin s voice? Oh shit. I looked back at Frankie, to pierce him with a You ve done it now, you brat stare, b ut he was looking down. He wasn t as proud as I thought he would be. "Karen?" Kevi n prompted when Joe didn t meet his eyes. "We kind of..." Oh, screw the qualifiers, Joe and I didn t kind of anything. "We.. ." I started over again, feeling nervous. Looking at Kevin s narrowed eyes and con fused expression had me stumbling over my words again. "We..." "You what?" "We like each other," Joe finished, looking at Kevin. "More than friends." Kevin was taken aback. "That s... not possible, you guys don t even talk." "We talk," I said quietly, words full of guilt. I picked at the carpet as I spok e. "We e-mail, we see each other..." "How long has this been going on?" Kevin asked quietly. Deadly-quietly. Fuck thi s was awful. "Which part?" Joe asked, sounding very unlike himself. So unsure and reluctant. Meek, even. "The beginning of it all." When he saw we weren t meeting his gaze, he asked, "Whe n?" "Well... I guess the night she had to write a paper and needed the book, and you had the book, but you weren t there so you made me call her, and... we started ta lking." I watched Joe as he spoke. His eyes were wide and serious, scared even, and his voice was shaking. "I got an A on that paper," I added, as if that would help. I even managed a sma ll smile but Kevin looked so confused I looked back down. "God, this is so weird," Kevin muttered. Then he looked at me, eyebrows raised: "Karen, I can t believe you told him!" "Told him what?" "About us," he shot back. " Us ?" I repeated skeptically, because of course the first place my mind went to wa s what we had done in the car the night before. Then my saner part kicked in and I got that he hadn t wanted me to tell anyone I was his fake girlfriend. Desperat e to tell the truth and clear my name from whatever possible, I said, "Oh. Well, I didn t until later." It wasn t until after I said that that I realized I d just mad e a mistake. It took only a few seconds for Kevin to work it out, and as a new wave of anger came upon him he turned on Joe with flashing eyes. "So you didn t find out until a fter you went after her that we weren t really dating?" "I didn t go after her, "Answer me." I "

"Well, no, I didn t, but... God, Kevin, it was killing me, I " "I can t believe this is happening again," Kevin muttered. Roughly he cleared the Monopoly board of the pieces with a swipe of his arm. I watched him angrily fold it in half and slam it into the box. Frankie flinched. I watched him watch his brother. I d expected a look of glee but there wasn t it was fear. He wasn t a demon chi ld after all. He hadn t wanted this and he had no idea what he d gotten us into. I a lmost felt bad for him. Almost. Joe s face was twisted up in a mix of anger and offense when he replied hotly, "It s not." "No?" Kevin challenged. He threw the fistfuls of Monopoly money he d picked up int o the box. "Last time: You went behind my back to get Eva. This time: You went b ehind my back to get Karen. Sounds pretty damn similar." "Except you guys aren t dating," Joe angrily reminded him. "But you didn t know that." Kevin threw another pile of money on top of the board in the box and looked at me. It was a dangerous look he was ready to displace some more anger. "And you. What was last night about? Cheating on me wasn t enough; yo u had to cheat on Joe, too?" I thought I might throw up. "I wasn t cheating on you and I wasn t cheating on him." "Last night?" Joe echoed, looking at me. "Last night," he repeated, looking at Joe. "You don t know?" he asked innocently. "Your girlfriend our girlfriend hooked up with me in my car." Suddenly the guilt and the shame parted like the fucking Red Sea to make way for a torrent of anger. "We were broken up," I informed Kevin scathingly. I turned to Joe and added, this time apologetically, "We were broken up." Joe just sat th ere looking at me like I had wounded him. That led to more remorse, which turned into more anger. "You re an asshole," I told Kevin. "We said we were never gonna talk about it. You just brought that up to fuck everything up." Raising his hands as if in defeat, Kevin said sarcastically, "My bad." Before either of us could get another word in we heard the sounds of a lock bein g worked with at the front door. In walked Nick, carrying two flat boxes and a s mall styrofoam one resting on top, not knowing he d just walked into a war zone. "Hi," he said, taking in the scene. The game of Monopoly was only half put away. Kevin was glaring at Joe and me; Joe was staring at me, looking hurt; I was gla ring at Kevin; and Frankie was looking wide-eyed at us all with horror, in the w ay Dr. Frankenstein had first looked upon the monster he had created. "I brought pizza," Nick tried, holding up the boxes. Not a word was spoken. "And salad," he added, patting the small styrofoam box. "Mostly for me." Frankie got up and went into the kitchen. Kevin followed suit, thrusting the Mon opoly box aside and going upstairs. Giving me one last hurt expression, Joe got up and walked off. Swallowing hard, I stood up and walked out of the room, leavi ng Nick to stand there and dejectedly add, "No one has to eat the salad." I wasn t sure where I was going. All I knew was that I couldn t be there in that liv ing room any longer, not when there was a good chance that I was going to cry. N

ot to mention that this wasn t my house and I already felt like a stranger here bu t there was nowhere for me to go. It wasn t like I drove myself here. My only opti on was to find somewhere and wait it out, or at least wait until I got control o f myself. I felt like I was going to throw up. It s not often that some outside ev ent can remove my appetite but this did it the feeling that everything I had was g one and that I d fucked it all up was enough to remove all traces of hunger and pu t something indescribable in its place. I was still walking away. Joe had gone for the rec room, so that was off-limits. I could hear Nick in the kitchen setting down the food, plus I d seen Frankie go in there, so no thank you. Kevin was upstairs in his room. The living room was t ainted with being the location where all the shit went down. There was nowhere f or me to go, but because I was still walking and because the stairs were in my p ath, I went up them. It was like I was a very lazy reader in one of those Choose Your Own Adventure books, where instead of actually thinking logically about wh at I was to do, I went with the option that involved less page-turning. I tried to step. The time could was only a calm myself down as I went up I tried to think of the most logical next bathroom, I decided when I saw it at the top of the stairs. A lot of be wasted in a bathroom, plus it guaranteed I wouldn t be bothered. It temporary fix but it was better than nothing.

From the corner of my eye I could see the door to Kevin s room, obviously shut, bu t I looked straight ahead and went into the bathroom, quietly locking the door b ehind me. I didn t bother to look at myself in the mirror. I don t see the appeal behind seein g yourself at your worst. Never will I understand how or why some people would l ook in the mirror while they re crying. I peed because the toilet was there and I had nothing better to do. I glanced at the shower stall through the half-open glass sliding door and saw a shitload of different shampoos and body washes. Ordinarily I d have analyzed each one and tri ed to match the brother to the product, but I wasn t in the mood. Trying to pretend everything was normal, I pumped some soap into my hands it was m y favorite kind, straight-up orange and smelling clean in an impersonal kind of way, with no frilly artificial scents attached to it. My mother always tries to be classy with her hand-soap. If it s not pearly-pink and smelling faintly of rose s then it means she s a bad person. That soap always irritated my skin. But what i t did to your skin and whether it actually cleaned it, well, she didn t care about that. To her appearance was everything. But I missed it, the pearly-pink-rose p etal soap. I ve always missed it, but I missed it now more than ever. I didn t belon g here. I realized I had been washing my hands for far longer than the suggested the happ y birthday song twice length of time, so I rinsed them and dried my hands on the hand towel next to the sink. After that I went through the medicine cabinet. I m not nosy and I have no interest in whatever medicine the Jonas brothers may ta ke. It was just another way to take up the time. I found a half-empty bottle of NyQuil. A bottle of Advil and one of Tylenol and one of Excedrin Migrane like, damn, guys, how many headaches do you get? a packet of Airborne, some Band-Aids, a thermometer... all typical medicine cabinet stuff. Gently I closed the medicine cabinet. And then I had one of those moments: when everything seems fucked-up and you don t

know if you ll find a way out of it and no one is around to help you. I don t know what other people do but I have to give myself a mental pep-talk every time like, Karen, everything is going to be okay and you ll find a way out of this and at som e point you ll be in bed back in your dorm room because it seems a little impracti cal to think you d be in the Jonas bathroom for the rest of time. You will get thr ough this. And that helped, a little, but I think the pep-talks only really work if I m not e motionally fucked up. Because I was thinking, Well, it s great that I ll be home soo n... but Kevin and Joe will still hate me. That part s more permanent. They may ne ver stop hating me. That prospect made being trapped in the Jonas bathroom sound like paradise. At some point I decided the temporariness of this plan was becoming clearer with each passing minute, as I had spent quite some time in this bathroom already an d I needed a new plan. Pizza, I decided. Nick had brought pizza and the natural thing to do would be to go downstairs to the kitchen and have some. Whatever was waiting for me down there couldn t be any worse than what was up here. With determination and resolve I opened the bathroom door. I heard movement downstairs, though I couldn t tell who or what or why. I stayed p aused in front of the bathroom for a few minutes, trying to detect whether it wa s safe to go down. I was still detecting when I heard a soft and guilty "I m sorry ." I turned and saw that the voice came from the room next to Kevin s. The one that f aced the front of the house. Frankie s. Well, that sounded like an invitation. Slowly I walked to his room to stand in the doorway. Frankie sat on his bed, hol ding a book but not really reading it. I realized that from there, with his door open, he had a clear view of where I had been standing outside the bathroom. "Is everything okay?" he asked. His eyes wandered past me outside his room and I knew he was asking about the entire situation, not me. "I don t know," I answered honestly, shrugging. "Did I mess it all up?" I looked around his room, typical for a nine-year old kid: a pile of laundry in one corner, toys and video games in another, an unkempt bookshelf, and a desk pi led high with odds-and-ends. "Kind of." I caught his eye and saw him wordlessly express a brief hint of surprise. "We ve been messing it up ourselves for a while, " I explained. I m not one to blame other people for something that s not entirely t heir fault. As much as I hated what Frankie had done, I knew, even then, that it wasn t all his fault. He was still my least favorite Jonas brother, though. That may never change. "So..." Frankie started hesitantly. "You and Kevin... were never dating?" Before I could answer he added, "You can come in if you want." I stepped all the way into the room it wasn t like I had anywhere else to be and shut the door behind me. I pulled his chair out from his desk and sat on it, facing h im from across the room. "No," I answered softly. "Why?"

"Kevin has his reasons," I said. At that Frankie nodded and tactfully chose not to press the matter. At least one thing had been learned from this whole ordeal. "Then..." He rested the book on his bed. "You were never cheating on him." "That d be kind of impossible, yeah." "I thought you were." He said it with a hint of desperation, pleading me with hi s eyes to try to understand his reasons. "I thought..." "I know." I tried to smile to show him I wasn t holding it against him (even if I wanted to, I was far too sad to hold a grudge against anybody). "I didn t do it to be mean," he continued, still looking at me earnestly. "But Kev in s my brother and I really thought..." "I know," I said again. The guilt in his expression had me feeling for him. He w as an alright kid, Frankie. In a slightly fucked-up way, maybe, but still. Not a demon child after all. "I m sorry," he said quietly, looking down at the carpet. I couldn t bring myself to say It s okay. It wasn t. "I know," I whispered. We heard the thundering sounds of someone coming up the stairs. I anxiously wait ed to know who it would be, whether they would come looking for us, what they wo uld say.... Never had the sound of footsteps made me so tense. There was a loud knocking sound but it wasn t at Frankie s door. "What?" Kevin asked. "Kevin..." It was Joe. "I just wanted to say..." We heard the sound of his door opening. "Say what?" "I m sorry." Kevin laughed sarcastically. Frankie and I shared a look like, Great, we get to be stuck in here and listen to them fight for three days. "You know," Kevin began, "it s not the fact that you like her. That kind of stuff just happens. What I don t get is... how can someone steal his brother s girlfriend? In what mind set is that okay?" "She s not your girlfriend!" Joe raised his voice to shout this in exasperation. "I know that!" Kevin shouted back, just as loud. He sighed. "But that s not the po int, Joe. It s the principle of the thing. You thought she was my girlfriend and y ou went after her anyway. I don t understand how you or anyone, but especially you cou ld do that." He may not have been shouting but his words were still powerful; he spoke with such conviction that it was hard not to be affected, even here in th is room. "You have no idea," he said quietly, "how bad I felt about it." "Yeah, I m sure."

"But how do you think things looked from my perspective? I thought you were chea ting on her with Eva!" "So you go behind my back instead of talking to me?" "Fuck you, you could have talked to me. There was no reason for you to keep it s ecret." "I didn t trust you. I still don t and now I never will." I d been sitting there passively listening all that time, not being much affected by what I heard. It was all awful, of course, but nothing really struck a nerve because I told myself it wasn t my business. But for some reason when Kevin said t hat to Joe, I snapped. Frankie could sense it, too maybe I sat up a little straigh ter or got a weird look on my face or something because he looked over at me. "I have to join d up and opened e Kevin s door. m, shutting the the madness," I explained unapologetically. He nodded and I stoo the door. Joe and Kevin were standing in the hallway just outsid They both looked at me with surprise as I emerged from Frankie s roo door behind me.

"Stop taking it all out on Joe!" It was the first thing that came to mind. "He w as always conflicted about it and he wouldn t stop talking about you. He didn t mean to hurt anyone, and he ended it because he said he said you were his brother an d he didn t want to betray you. Grow up and start acting like the brother you re sup posed to be." I never thought I would find myself yelling at Kevin in Joe s defens e but now it seemed like it was something I had to do. It would have made for a stronger statement had I just left it at that, but unfortunately I don t know when to stop. "Also," I added, "chocolate marshmallow ice cream does exist." I still hadn t gotten any solid proof on that one, but in that moment I realized that it really didn t matter whether it was real or not. Joe believed it was, and that was good enough for me. I gave Joe a sideways glance to sneak a peek at how he was taking this. He just stood there, arms crossed, looking at me with a blank expression on his face. "Fine, you want me to stop taking it out on Joe? I can do that," Kevin said. "It s not like you re blameless." I crossed my arms. "You re right, I m not. But if I was truthful to one then I was h urting the other, and..." I looked at him helplessly but Kevin was unsympathetic . "The deal was your idea. Don t forget that. It was to help me, but it was your ide a. You could have said something if you wanted out; I didn t force you into anythi ng " "I never said you did!" "Then stop acting like you re a victim!" "I m not!" "Yes you are!" It seemed useless to get into such a childish fight so I stayed quiet, taking a minute to gather my sanity. It was then that I realized, Joe wasn t there. When we were fighting he had in that time left without anyone noticing. It hurt me to t hink that he didn t want to talk to me or be around me even after I d come to his de

fense. I d yelled at Kevin for him; I d basically chosen him over Kevin which I had do ne a while ago, the day I told Joe the truth, and now here I was doing it again and he... didn t seem to care. "Why didn t you tell me?" I looked back up at Kevin. "About Joe?" "Yes, about Joe." "I told you, I couldn t be honest to one of you without hurting someone else. I " "You told him about else, but obviously taking command like icked up a thing or be on the receiving us. That was the one thing I asked you not to say to anyone you don t care." It made sense that Kevin would be so good at an authority figure because he was the oldest and probably p two on how to lecture somebody, but it was still strange to end of his lecture.

I looked him straight in the eye. "Yeah? Well, at least I had a reason to do it. You brought up last night just to hurt me. And Joe." "Maybe I did. Maybe," he said, shrugging and shaking his head, "we were never fr iends. You know, from the start we were just two people who used each other. I t hought that somewhere along the way we became friends, but..." He looked at me, like for the first time he was seeing through me. "I was wrong." Involuntarily I made a noise. I wasn t sure what it was, or what it would be calle d maybe an automatic exhale of surprise, if such a thing existed but Kevin noticed a nd took it as a sign that I was going to start crying. "Just stop," he sneered. "You are not a victim." "Fuck you!" As he raised his eyebrows at that, I asked, "Do you remember Lucas? I liked him, I really liked him, and I chose you over him. And you know, I was d estroyed when Joe ended things between us because I could have told him about yo u and me, that first time, but I didn t. I sacrificed so much for you, Kevin, and. .. you don t even seem to care." I made another involuntary exhale, but this time I think it was related to crying, though I would never want to admit it. I tried to force it to go away and swallowed hard, past the lump in my throat, and watc hed Kevin with a steely glare. He was silent at first, maybe like he hadn t realized any of this until I d said it just then hell, even I didn t realize this had been inside me until it came out but wa sn t quite ready to admit that I might have had a point. "Then why d you end up tell ing Joe?" "I guess I finally realized I was done standing by someone who never stood by me ," I said quietly. In hindsight I could have said something more powerful, and t echnically what I d said didn t even make any damn sense. If you re standing by someon e then obviously you re both standing together, so the other person is standing by you by association. But it would have ruined the impact of my words to add, Fig uratively, that is. Not literally. So I kept my mouth shut and hoped he got the gist of what I was saying. I don t know how long Kevin and I stood, looking at each other. I don t know what wa s going on in his brain, if maybe the things I said impacted him in the slightes t way. But finally he raised and lowered one shoulder and quietly said to me, "We re over . You re free to do what you want, and who you want, and I m sorry it s been so horrib

le for you to be my friend." He was pissed, that was very clear. Pissed and... s omething else. Kevin turned away and went into his room, shutting his door so qu ietly it hardly made a sound. I was left to stand there in the hallway, still thinking about how he said we we re never friends. Betrayal s a terrible thing. I knew I had more or less betrayed Kevin by essentially choosing Joe over him, so why did I feel like he had betray ed me worse and even deeper with what he had said? Why was it bugging me so much that he d said what he did? Because it was all I could think about. I wanted to g o back and yell at him, force him to admit that we were friends. Ask him why, if we were never friends, he let me study at his house. Why I was the person he ca lled when he needed someone to talk to. Why he let me believe he was my best fri end. I was torn between fighting for our friendship for its existence, for what it had been through, for us and just letting it go. Somehow we all ended up at the dinner table. Don t ask how; I m not sure how it happ ened myself. After Kevin left me standing there, Frankie realized the arguing wa s over and left his room. He said he was going downstairs and I went after him b ecause it wasn t like I had anything better to do than follow around a nine-year o ld kid. So we got downstairs and found Nick at the kitchen table, eating all by himself. The first thing Frankie did was grab a plate and go to town, so I figured, why not, and joined them at the table. For once I was grateful Nick wasn t much of a talker. I d thought that with all thes e shenanigans going on he would break his vow of silence to comment or inquire, but I guess we don t interest him because he has a life. There we were at the table: Frankie was tearing the crust off his slice of pizza , I was eyeing the crust left on his plate, and Nick was crumbling feta cheese i nto his salad no shit. The salad the pizza place made apparently wasn t good enough for him, so he had to go add feta cheese. But the silence between us was perfect ly content, and then Joe came downstairs. When he walked into the kitchen he stopped dead in his tracks for a second upon seeing us, then got over it and took a plate. And he sat down with us. I tried t o make eye contact but he wasn t having it; he just opened the box, threw a piece on his plate and started blotting the grease off the top with a napkin. (I d like to add that I never realize the amount of extra oil sitting on top of my pizza u ntil I see someone blot it off their own, and by then I m halfway through with min e. Plus I d just feel like a douche, like I m criticizing the pizza-maker and pizza by extension. And Italy by super-extension. I m not about to offend an entire coun try just to save a few calories. Evidently Joe doesn t have that problem and I m not surprised.) As Nick got up and scoured the fridge for something, I saw Frankie toss the crus t into the pizza box. I suppose I could have been happy he wasn t throwing it away like I ve seen some bitches do, but his doing that meant if I wanted it I d have to open the box and get it, and he d see me and maybe judge. Damn you, Frankie. Nick returned to the table, this time with a handful of cucumber slices. I have no idea where the hell those came from, but he sat down and started sprinkling t hem over his salad like it was fucking art. (Keep in mind that this entire time, a slice of pizza had been sitting on his plate pizza that was untouched because h e was too busy making love to his salad.) Around the time Joe stopped blotting and finally started eating his pizza backward

s, of course, because God forbid the guy eat something normally Kevin walked in. H e too stopped in surprise when he saw us, but I knew for a fact that he wasn t goi ng anywhere because he loves food. So after a minute of wasting time in front of the fridge pouring himself a glass of juice, I saw him reach for a plate. When Kevin was still in front of the refrigerator, the silence was broken by Nick, of all people. "Is there any of that spray stuff in there?" "What spray stuff?" "The salad dressing." "Oh." Kevin peered back into the fridge, searching the shelves. "Yeah." He grabb ed a bottle and took it to the table along with his juice and plate. He slid it over to Nick when he sat down. I suppose now would be a good time to mention the seating arrangement. Frankie w as sitting next to me, on my left, because he was the only one talking to me. Ni ck was across from me (now artfully spraying his salad with several sprays from the bottle) and Kevin was sitting next to him. Joe was at the end of the table, with Kevin to his left and Frankie to his right. It was quite an arrangement. "Why are you using the spray?" Kevin asked Nick, watching with interest as he li fted a piece of lettuce and administered another hundred sprays. "It s the only flavor we have that I like," he replied without taking his eyes off his art. "What flavor is it?" "Balsamic something." I had finished my piece and as I reached into the box for another, my hand very skillfully grabbed onto the crust Frankie threw in there as well. "What does that taste like?" Kevin asked curiously. Without missing a beat, Nick sprayed the dressing at Kevin s mouth before returnin g it back to his salad. As Kevin gave a small laugh and licked his lips, Nick fi nally set the bottle down and turned to his brother. "So?" "It tastes okay," Kevin replied, laughing a little. "Thanks for that." "No problem." "You like crust?" That was Frankie, finally noticing the crust I d taken. He sound ed shocked that anyone could like such a (delicious, carbalicious) thing. "Karen loves crust," Kevin replied. At first I thought perhaps he was trying to insult me, but after a minute I couldn t think of a way that could possibly be ins ulting because it was a true fact. I got over it and chalked it up to absent-min ded speaking before thinking. I looked up at Kevin anyway, and was surprised to find him looking back at me. H is expression wasn t hostile or anything of the sort. Was this peace?

Frankie made a face and turned to look at me. "Why?" I broke my gaze with Kevin to look at him, then looked around and realized that all eyes were on me. (All eyes except for Joe s, anyway.) "Because it s... doughy an d... full of deliciousness." "But there s no cheese," he said. "So? It s crust, not pizza." "It s just weird." "Says the guy who likes pineapple on pizza," Nick said. I took offense to that. Pineapple is delicious on pizza. "Says the guy who spent twenty minutes beautifying his salad." Nick looked up at me. The corner of his mouth curled into a half-smile. "I m worth it." I laughed, and so did Kevin. The meaning of the both of us laughing at the same thing was a little lost on me, but I took it as a good sign. "I m done," Frankie announced. He scored himself a point by tossing the crust from his second piece onto my plate before getting up and taking his plate to the si nk. "I m having ice cream now," he said, probably directing his speech at Joe, "be cause it s after dinner." "Okay," Joe replied while staring at his plate. There was something about the wa y he said it with such apathy and defeat. He may not even have been paying attenti on to what Frankie had said. Frankie shrugged, scooped out his ice cream into a bowl and left. "Can someone pass me the Parmesan?" Kevin asked. I looked across the table and saw that it was sitting between Joe and Frankie s pl ace. I stared at the cheese, then at Joe, who was acting as though he was invisi ble. "Joe?" Kevin prompted. Wordlessly Joe placed the container in front of Kevin. He didn t slam it down, exa ctly, but there was something pissy about the way he did it. "What s your problem?" Kevin asked, now seeming to forget about the cheese. "Nothing." I looked back and forth from Joe to Kevin. Was another fight going to start up? "I can t believe you re mad at me. You have no reason to be mad at me." "I never said I was mad at you!" Yes, yes it was. I met Nick s eyes as I reached over the table to get the can of Parmesan that had indirectly started the dispute Joe and Kevin were having. I could hear but not s ee them, as they had moved to the living room for reasons unclear to me, since it wasn t like we couldn t hear every word they were saying. Nick rolled his eyes and g

ave me a smirk that I returned. "You ve been acting like it all night!" Kevin replied. "Why the hell are you mad a t me?" "You..." "I m listening." "You never replace the toilet paper!" "What?" Nick looked at me over the forkful of salad he was finally eating, and he suppre ssed a laugh. "And when you do you don t even do it right," Joe continued angrily. "You do it un derhand. Who does that?" "You re fighting me over toilet paper?" he asked skeptically. "Yes!" "Come on, this isn t about toilet paper. You know it s not." "What? Yes it is!" "You re mad about what happened between me and Karen," Kevin said calmly. I could feel myself blushing. Having that brought up for everyone to hear, espec ially while I was sitting at the table across from Nick, was embarrassing. I sta red down at my pizza which was my third slice, not including Frankie s crusts. I was n t very hungry, especially while having to listen to them argue, so I just ripped off my crust and chewed on it. It wasn t as delicious as I expected. "No, I m not." "And that doesn t even make sense. You have no reason to be mad at me over that." "I never said I was!" "Right." "I didn t!" "Okay." "But..." "But?" "It didn t mean anything to you, right?" Joe asked, his voice faltering. "You don t deserve to know." Ouch. That was cold, Kevin. "It didn t," Joe continued. "I know it didn t. And I just think it s shitty that you re pissed at me for having genuine feelings for her, and then you go and do somethi ng like that for no reason at all." I swallowed, moving a piece of my crust around my plate to catch the stray crumb

s of Parmesan. Joe used present tense when he referred to having feelings for me (also, who says that besides people on TV? I have feelings for you. People don t talk like that. That s bullshit. Get a clue, Joe). So... could I assume nothing ha d changed between us? "Well, it s not really any of your business, is it?" "Yeah, it is. It s not supposed to be, I know that, but it is." Then there was silence. Nick and I looked at each other across the table, each o f us slightly frowning in curiosity at the sudden interval. "How are you?" he asked. I almost laughed. "I m... okay. How s your life?" "Same," he said with a curt nod. Crap, I m horrible at small talk. All I knew about Nick was that he had a girlfrie nd and spent every second of his time with her, hence why he was rarely at the h ouse at least, according to Joe, who took notice of these things. I don t know if Ke vin was ever really around to care. "How s your girlfriend?" I tried. Nick paused, his fork of cucumber and lettuce suspended in midair. I couldn t iden tify the look on his face. "Pregnant," he said impassively, biting down on his f ork. I raised my eyebrows but Nick was expressionless. "Pregnant?" Kevin echoed, stepping into the room. Oh boy. "Does the ring mean nothing to you? How could you just how could you " I rested my chin on my hand and my elbow on the table as I made circles on the t able with the ring my cup had left. I didn t dare look at Joe, sitting there at th e table as well. He hadn t moved; I knew he was still slumped over the table with his chin atop his folded arms. It was now Nick and Kevin s turn to argue, though a t least this time it was right here in the kitchen. They knew they weren t fooling anyone. "Kevin " Nick began calmly. Everything about him was calm the way he leaned against the sink with his arms crossed, looking straight at Kevin in his pacing back and forth madness. "No!" Nick cocked his head to the side. "That... doesn t even make sense." "Nick, you what? What doesn t make sense?" Kevin asked, sounding flustered. "I said, Kevin, and you said No. Your name s Kevin."

"I know that," he replied crossly. "Okay. Just making sure."

"Why are you so calm about this? Nick, this changes everything. Your life is rui ned. You know that, don t you? God, you re both only sixteen " "Kevin." "No! Let me finish! You re " "You did it again." "I don t care! When... when did you sleep with her? How far along is she?" "I didn t sleep with her." "Okay, whatever, so you didn t literally fall asleep with her. Stop being so techn ical. You know what I mean." "I know. And you re not listening to me. I didn t sleep with her." Kevin let out an exasperated sigh. "She s not the fucking Virgin Mary." "That s uncalled for," Nick said dryly. "What I m trying to say is, she was pregnant when I met her." Kevin was so stunned he didn t respond. Joe did: "What?" "What the hell are you thinking going out with a pregnant girl?" I leaned back in my seat, making sure to avoid making eye contact with Kevin, wh o was also sitting at the table, playing with his (still Parmesan-less) piece of pizza that had been for the most part untouched. "I didn t know she was when I met her. She didn t even know," Nick explained. From h is spot sitting on the counter, he worked on peeling the orange he d taken from th e fruit bowl when Joe had gotten up to fight with him. "What is this, some Secret Life of the American Teenager crap?" "What? You watch that show?" "You know what I mean." "Joe, I really don t." He sounded like he meant it, too, and even looked up from p eeling to look directly at Joe. "You can t date a girl who s pregnant with someone else s kid and think it s okay. You c an t. Especially considering... who you are. Who we are." "I m not gonna break up with her just because she s pregnant." Nick s rationality asto unded me. How he could stay so calm was baffling. And he had a point, but... I c ould see where Joe was coming from, too. "I get that, but..." Joe looked conflicted as he looked away for a few seconds. "There s this whole other side to it, you know? With the press and the reporters, and..." "I know." He nodded seriously and popped an orange segment into his mouth. "But it s not up to you to deal with it."

"I know that!" Joe exclaimed. "I shouldn t have to. I shouldn t have to be worrying about how we re gonna deal with this, or the next problem, or the last problem, or ..." He took a breath (song reference not intended) and I could see Nick eyeing him curiously. "What problems?" he asked hesitantly. "Stuff like when Frankie s sick and I have to take care of him. Or when Mom and Da d are having a giant fight and I m the only one around and I have to hear it all. I stay home all the time because " "Not all the time," Kevin childishly muttered under his breath, but his uttering went ignored. " no one else is around to. And Mom and Dad are never home, and..." Joe shook his head, looking confused and... also, oddly, like he had found clarity. "We re not e ven a family anymore," he said quietly, possibly only to himself. "Hey," Nick said seriously the first fully serious word he had expressed all eveni ng. Despite the slightly apathetic tone he d been giving off all night, this time it seemed like he actually cared. He put the orange down and tried to meet eyes with his brother, but he was too far gone. "No, you know it s true!" Joe yelled. "First there was the thing with Mom and Dad and Uncle Jim and the money, and then they started fighting, and you re never here , and Kevin s lying to everybody, and then I started sneaking around with Karen, a nd now..." Joe sighed, looking at Nick. "Now it s even worse. We fucked it all up. We can t come back from this." "Joe," Nick tried. He hopped off the counter, trying to reach out to him. Joe let out a quick, involuntary exhale (a disguised half-sob? A shudder?) not u nlike what I had done once or twice during my fight with Kevin. "Why are you alw ays gone?" Seeing the vulnerability in his eyes almost killed me. Everything Joe had told me, everything about his home life that he had ever hinted at it was all unraveling. He was coming undone and no one could stop him. It was far too late . "I don t know!" Nick answered, like he hadn t given the issue any thought until righ t that second. "I guess... being away was better than dealing with the problems here." "So you left me to do it." He met Joe s eyes, not realizing the impact of his actions until then. "I m... sorry ." To his credit, he sounded sincere. "But..." Nick went on uncertainly. "What w as I supposed to do?" "I wanted you to care! I wanted you to care about what was happening to us. I di dn t want you to just accept it and move on, like there s nothing you can do or it s n ot worth fighting for. We were not a lost cause." I really felt for Joe. He was a very family-oriented person. I doubted that Nick didn t care about their family, but with some people it s easier to find other outl ets, to find independence. Nick was... well, come to think of it, he was kind of like Rachel. Whereas Joe was still holding on because he couldn t consider lettin g go. "I m sorry," he said again, very quietly.

Nick s sincerity must have gotten through to Joe, somewhere deep down, because Joe took a few deep breaths and seemed a little less-freaked out. Nick continued to stand there, looking at him with concern. Joe looked down at the ground recovering from such a display of raw emotion, the n slowly he looked up. Right at Kevin, who was looking down at his plate. The mo re obvious it was that Joe was looking at Kevin, the more Kevin ignored him. "And why don t you care?" Joe asked, sounding defeated. When Kevin shrugged, Joe s aid, "I mean, I know I did this horrible thing or whatever, but I needed her." Upon hearing that, I looked at Joe with surprise. He either didn t see me or chose to ignore me. "And she was the only one there for me," he continued. "No one else was. No one. And still, for some stupid reason, I ended it with her before anything ever even started between us to be loyal to you." I watched Kevin. He could try to hide it but I could tell Joe s words were affecti ng him. He swallowed. Maybe he was looking down in shame, not indifference. "I guess you guys mean more to me than I ever meant to you," Joe said quietly. "Joe..." Nick began sympathetically, but Joe wasn t looking at him. He kept watchi ng Kevin, waiting for a response. Kevin finally looked up and met Joe s eyes. Shaking his head, he stammered out, "J oe, I..." Shaking his head, Joe whispered "Fuck you both" and walked out of the room. For a moment, and only a moment, all was completely still. We stayed there, heav y under the impact of Joe s breakdown. Nick whipped his head around to Kevin. "Why didn t you say anything?" he asked, hi s voice hoarse. "I don t know!" Kevin replied, still sounding stunned. "You re an asshole!" "I m not an asshole!" I wasn t about to sit there at the kitchen table and listen to another damn fight, so I stood up and set off to find Joe. I checked the rec room but he wasn t there . Quietly I took the stairs, moving slowly with my hand gliding up the banister because I didn t really want to go talk to Joe. I did, but I didn t. I knew he neede d someone there for him but I wasn t entirely sure if it was me he wanted. I didn t know what I would say or how he would react, or... any of it. I reached the stairs and stood in front of Joe s closed door, bracing myself. When I knew I could stall no longer, I knocked lightly on the door. When I received no response, I knocked again. Nothing. Hesitantly I reached for the doorknob and turned it slowly. "Joe?" I asked, open ing the door a little wider. Peeking my head in, I saw that he was lying on his bed staring at the ceiling. H e didn t look at me. Then again, he didn t throw anything at me, so maybe it wasn t ex actly a bad sign.

"Are you okay?" I tried. By now I was all the way in the room and, because he wa sn t protesting my intrusion, shut the door behind me. "No." Stepping toward him I asked, "Are you mad at me about the Kevin thing? Because I m not into him, I was just depressed about you and " "Not everything s about you, Karen." Well, that shut me up. But it did make me realize the bigger issue at hand, and that it was bigger than Kevin or me or any of the secrets we had kept. All this time Joe had been going through something horrible and no one asked about it not e ven me. I was feeling pretty useless just standing there, so I made a move to sit on the edge of his bed. He just looked so sad. A little hair-stroking had to at least make it a little better, right? Joe, however, wasn t having any of it. "Don t," he commanded as I was about to sit o n the bed. So I went back to standing, suddenly feeling insecure and unwanted. "Do you want me to go?" There was no answer. I supposed I should take his silence as Yes, bitch, out of my sight, so I walked toward the door. "No." I turned around. He was still looking at the ceiling. If he weren t in this curren t emotional state I might have called him out on his contradictory ways and aske d him what the fuck he wanted, but watching him stare at the ceiling with that b lankly sad expression on his face, looking so lost and drained, I realized he wa nted my presence and nothing more. Not a conversation, not hair-touching (his lo ss), just silent understanding. "Okay," I said quietly. I was pretty emotionally drained myself, and any time I let myself dwell on the evening s events I felt helpless and wanted to cry, but I put all that aside because this was bigger than me. I had to realize that no mat ter how bad I felt, Joe felt worse. I found a magazine on his desk. I picked it up and seated myself on the carpet, directly opposite from him. While he stared at the ceiling I tried to focus on t he magazine but it was never long until I found myself looking up, watching him. Wondering if this was the last time I would ever be here with him, if we would ever make it back from this. If Joe and I would as a couple, if Joe and Kevin an d Nick would as brothers, if Kevin and I would as best friends, if the Jonases w ould as a family. Or if so much damage had been done and lies told that there wa s nothing any of us could do to fix it. Maybe Joe was tired of trying to fix eve rything and this was his official resignation. I didn t know; I could only wonder an d hope that he still had something left in him, an ounce of strength left to fig ht for it all one last time. I didn t know what it meant, that Joe wanted me there. I didn t know if it was an en d, or a beginning or, best of all, maybe just a middle. But I stayed there, even a fter he fell asleep. I owed him that, at the very least. It was Nick who eventually found me.

When Joe fell asleep I was still sitting on the carpet, looking at the magazine but not reading it. My mind had slowly stopped racing until it seems nothing was running through it anymore. I was entirely exhausted. I heard footsteps coming up the stairs but thought nothing of themf. I didn t care who it was or what he (it was, I figured, safe to assume it was a "he") wanted. If it was Kevin coming up to get in one last round of yelling at me, I would ha ve sat there and taken it. My energy was gone and I was no longer willing to try , not at anything. With the door still ajar I got a view of who it was when he reached the top of t he steps. Kevin peered through the open space, perhaps to check on Joe. We accid entally made eye contact. Instead of instantly looking away, he kept his eyes on me. Vacantly I stared back, searching for meaning in his gaze but finding nothi ng as he turned away and disappeared from my sight. I tried not to think about w hat it meant that he had walked past me. What I had been searching for when he l ooked at me was, mainly, whether or not we were still friends. I wanted to find something in his gaze that showed he still cared, but I couldn t tell. Losing a fr iend is a terrible thing, only slightly worse than not being able to tell if you v e lost one. So much had been said and done between us in such a short period of time that it was overwhelming and I had no clue how to gauge what he (or myself, even) could possibly be thinking about us. So it was Kevin who saw me. too peered into Joe s room, thought I d have magically hat Joe was in fact asleep, But not long after that Nick came up the stairs. He and he looked surprised to see me there, like maybe he disappeared. After stepping into the room and seeing t Nick fixed his gaze on me.

"Is everything okay?" he whispered. I could have laughed. "I have no idea," I sighed, shaking my head. He gave me a small smile in return and stepped back out of the room. Then he sto pped, poked his head back in, and looked at me once more, this time as though so mething had only just occurred to him. "How are you getting home?" Certainly a valid question one I d acknowledged in the back of my mind but had refus ed to think about for lack of any sort of answer. When he saw me lift my eyebrows and shrug, he nodded thoughtfully. "Let me give you a ride." Any other time I would have felt obligated to do the dance of politeness the thing where I go, "Oh, don t bother troubling yourself" and he goes, "It s no trouble at all!" and I say, "It s fine, really" to which he replies, "Please, let me give you a ride" and I say, "Well... only if you re sure" and he says, "I m positive" and at last I concede with, "Okay." Because, really, there wouldn t be any point, at lea st not in this situation. Who else would I have gotten a ride from? And that was why my answer was a curt nod and "Okay." He nodded back. "I ll get my keys." When he left I sighed to myself and slowly stood up, looking over at Joe. I didn t want to end it this way, on such uncertain terms. I felt like I needed to leave him with something, even if it wouldn t change his opinion of me well, whatever tha t opinion was. I didn t want him to wake up and find himself completely alone. In his desk I found an empty, opened envelope. I supposed it would have to do. T aking a pen from my purse, I uncapped it and held it poised above the back of th

e envelope as I thought of what to write. What could I possibly write that would make him understand that I was never going to leave him, even if he had already given up on me? I didn t want to sound cheesy, either. I wanted him to know that these weren t just words this was for real. At the same time I didn t want to bring up anything from tonight or attempt any feeble apologies: he had to know I was wri ting this for him, not so I could alleviate any of my guilt for my own sake. I knew Nick was probably waiting on me. I continued to stare at the envelope, at the way the top of it was nearly ripped off with only a few jagged pieces of th e top left to remind anyone that this had once been and still was an envelope. I wondered what was in it that made Joe rip it open so eagerly, and where he put its contents if not back inside it, and why he chose to keep the envelope even a fter its purpose had been served. Taking a deep breath, I pressed the pen down on the envelope. I already knew wha t I wanted to say. It wasn t original by a long shot, but it was real and it was w hat I felt: I will always be here for you. I considered adding a Please call me, but reconsidered when I realized I only wanted him to call me because it was wh at I wanted and not necessarily what he needed. It hurt to think that I might no t be what he needed. And then I added something else, something that was a little terrifying to admit and might not help him but that he needed to know: You have my heart. Not as st raightforward as I love you, but who says that on the back of a used envelope? W hat I wrote had more meaning, and if he was smart he would realize that it alrea dy implied my love for him. After a few more seconds of deliberation, I signed i t with my name and left it on his nightstand on top of his alarm clock, the most obvious place I could think of. I then snatched my purse from the floor and ste pped out of the room, quietly closing the door behind me. The house was silent, one of those too-quiet silences where you know some serious shit has just gone d own. Not wanting to break the silence, I tread quietly down the stairs, where I found Nick standing by the front door. His shoes and jacket were already on and he wa s careful examining each individual key on his ring. He looked up when I reached the bottom of the stairs. "You ready?" "Yeah. I just have to..." When I gestured to the lineup of shoes he was standing directly in front of, he nodded and stepped aside. I could feel him watching me as I slipped into my shoes, and I wondered if I should have made the moment les s awkward by trying to engage him in small talk but I decided against it. I get the feeling that he s above small talk. Besides, the last time I tried that smalltalk thing he revealed that his girlfriend was pregnant and that wasn t pretty. When my shoes were on he led me out the door and to his car, parked in the drive way. At first I thought it was a little strange how his and Joe s cars were in the driveway instead of leaving room for their parents, but the more I thought abou t it the more it made sense that their cars at least Joe s, given the amount of resp onsibility forced upon him deserved to go in the driveway. I liked that his car didn t have a distinct smell not like leather, not new car smel l and not an artificial evergreen forest. When you don t notice the smell of somet hing it s usually because it s something you re used to, like your room or your house. Nick s car had a comfortable smell (or non-smell, perhaps) and it made me feel a little more at ease as I sat there apprehensively waiting for him to back out of the driveway. Before that, he pulled out a GPS device and I sat there as he pressed what sound

ed like dozens of buttons. Inconspicuously I peered over his shoulder to see wha t the hell he was doing, and I saw he was looking for directions to UCLA. That w as smart of him, but... the destination was just listed as "UCLA". What the hell kind of vague destination is that, GPS? I was pretty sure that device was going to lead us to the middle of campus or something. I knew I had to speak up but I didn t want to correct him when he was doing me the favor. Then again, I didn t wan t him to plow through several buildings on campus to take me to some random spot the GPS decided was UCLA, so I broke the silence. "My dorm is on DeNeve Drive." He looked up, finger hovering above the Set as destination button. "Oh." "Yeah. That s probably easier to program in than an entire university." I smiled a little at him and even tried a fake laugh to sound friendlier. He returned the fake laugh. "Right. Thanks." Nick moved the GPS a little more in to my view to let me watch as he entered "DeNeve Drive" into it. I showed him wh ich one it was, he set it, and after putting the GPS in its stand, he finally ba cked out of the driveway. Silence had come over us once again. I m not one who s par ticularly fond of breaking silences, but I knew I had to thank him for the troub le he was obviously going to, especially now that he had it displayed before him in numbers just how far he was driving to do me this favor. "Thanks for driving me. It s really nice of you." Keeping his eyes on the road, he shrugged it off. "Don t worry about it." Okay, so we were cool. No more had to be said and I wasn t going to break any more silences. Surprisingly enough, it was Nick who spoke up again, less than a minu te later. "Tonight was really weird, so it s no problem." It seemed odd, the long pause between what he d last said and then that. The two s entences said together made sense, but the space between them implied that he wa s trying to open a conversation up to tonight s events. I wasn t sure why he would w ant to discuss all the drama that had gone down that night, especially because m ost of it was family drama that I, a non-family member, witnessed, but now that he had brought it up it wasn t like there was a way to get out of it. "Oh... yeah. It... was." Not a genius response on my part but I wasn t sure what h e was getting at. Should I be apologizing for all the facades I had put on with his brothers? There had been a lot of deception going on all of our parts, even his. There was a long pause. Even though it was me who had spoken last, I felt inclin ed to say something. "I m not going to tell anyone about you and your girlfriend. I know it s not my business, and I " "No, I know you won t tell," he said. I nodded. "So... how are you?" He didn t speak immediately. "Kinda weird, I guess. It was just... a shock... to l earn about some things tonight." I could feel myself going red. "Yeah... it s... um, I m sorry for all the lying abou t pretending to be Kevin s girlfriend and everything. It s not I mean, you don t know th e whole story."

"Oh, no, I wasn t talking about you. Just... Joe." He said his brother s name quiete r than everything else, like by saying it he was acknowledging the complete grav ity of the situation. Kind of like how in the Harry Potter series no one wants t o say Voldemort s name because it brings up memories too painful to relive. Why did I just compare Joe to Voldemort? "Yeah," I said quietly. I busied myself by staring at my hands in my lap. "I just... I didn t know." "Me neither," I confessed. I felt like a liar for saying it. The signs were all there. He had hinted so many times at the problems he d been having at home but I never gave any of it a second thought. I thought it would all turn out okay, but after tonight s events I had no idea what to think anymore. I bit my lip and looked down. It was almost too overwhelming to think about. I c oncentrated on willing myself not to try. "Hey, uh..." Nick began. I turned to look at him as he kept staring ahead, switc hing lanes with the careful precision of a new driver. "Don t worry about it." Jeez, he really was intuitive. "Why not?" I asked. I could hear the resignation in my voice but I didn t care. "It ll be okay." "How do you know?" There was a brief pause. "As long as we re sharing things?" "Yeah?" I prompted, wondering what other secret he could have left to hide. I wa sn t sure if I d be able to handle another one. "I knew about you and Kevin." I didn t speak immediately because I was still trying to absorb what he had just s aid. "You mean... you knew how we were pretending and all that? How could you?" "Well," he started, "I didn t know for sure. But, like... when you came over for d inner that one time we all met you, it was something about you and Kevin. How yo u were looking at each other, and talking to each other." I tried to remember that night. I remembered that everyone was doing their own t hing at dinner, so the family never had a conversation together. Maybe I should have taken that as a sign of how disunited they were, but that night I was just glad to be relieved of any pressure to make a great first impression, so I spent it quietly talking to Kevin at the dinner table. I tried to think about what Ni ck was doing but I couldn t remember. "How were we looking?" He shrugged, still watching the road. "Like you had a secret or something. Plus. .. I don t know, you were acting too casually around each other. But like I said, I didn t know for sure." "But you were pretty sure," I said, and he nodded. I sat back in my seat, still taking in the surprise of it all.

"And I thought I had you and Joe figured out, too," he continued. I raised my eyebrows. "What?" "When you guys spent my grandma s birthday party sitting together on the couch, an d you and Kevin didn t say a word to each other." "Jeez," I muttered. Nick was good. He knew about us before we did. "Joe and I we ren t even... we weren t even friends then." Nick shrugged. "I was right eventually, right? " "Yeah," I had to admit. "And after that I kept seeing more signs that there was something going on betwe en you two." I didn t bother to ask about the signs. I was sure they d be something small mingly unnoticeable like I once twitched my eye when Joe came into a room or ething. Stupid Nick and his stupid intuitive voodoo ways. I watched ahead of as the headlights on the other cars on the highway shined in the dark night. can t believe you knew. Why didn t you say anything?" "I figured it would come out eventually. Plus I didn t know for sure, so..." I nodded, feeling somewhat dazed. Then I remembered what he had said before, whi ch had led us to this whole revelation. "So why do you think everything will wor k out, then?" "I don t know if I can explain it. I just know. It s not over. Your lives are too in tertwined together for it to end like this." Your lives are too intertwined together? It made perfect sense, what he was sayi ng, but the way he said it... damn, dude. You are definitely a songwriter. His words gave me hope, but because of the doubt that clogged my mind I had trou ble believing it. "I hope you re right." "I don t mean to sound cocky, but... I usually am." I laughed. He did have a point. "Yeah," I said after a moment of silence, but I knew I sounded less certain. It wasn t that I didn t have faith in his magical abili ties of omniscience, but I just wasn t sure how things would work out, or what his definition of things working out even was. He took an exit to get off the highway. As we sat there, paused at a red light, he looked over at me. "I ll make sure I m right," he said in a gently assuring voice . The serious way he looked at me, like he desperately wanted to make me underst and that his aims were true, made me realize that he actually cared. More than t hat that he was invested in this weird, broken, half-love triangle of mine. As he turned back to the road when the light turned green, I quietly asked, "Why do you care?" Up until now I d basically written him off as one who was too absor bed in his own affairs to care about anything else, so seeing that he was capabl e of meddling caught me off-guard. "Why?" he repeated, sounding distracted as he switched lanes again. "Yeah." and see som me "I

"Because... they re my brothers." After he successfully switched (I haven t driven i n a while so maybe it s just me, but I don t get why he treats every lane-switch lik e it s the biggest deal in the world). "I mean," he added hastily, "it s not like I don t care about you, but the reason I care about this whole thing at all is becau se I m pretty sure you re supposed to be in their lives, even if right now they may not think so. I m gonna do what I can to make sure that happens." I liked knowing that he was on my side, even if it wasn t for reasons directly per sonal to me. But I still wasn t convinced. "But what if I m not supposed to?" "You are," he said simply. "Whether or not they want you around is a whole new s tory," he added jokingly. He cast me a wry side-glance that I did not return. I was too busy being terrified at the prospect of them hating me forever. "Kidding ," he said, seeing my unamused expression. "...Sort of." Wonderful. The rest of the ride was uneventful: all of our business dealt with, Nick and I saw no need to engage in meaningless small-talk. Our minds were too preoccupied for that, and I d like to think we re both above small-talk. I don t know what Nick wa s thinking about, but in my mind Joe took center stage. When the thoughts grew i ntense I had to push him out of my thoughts but he always came back. Kevin would come to me, too And so we reached my dorm at last. As I took off my seatbelt I turned to him onc e again to tell him, "Thank you." "No problem," he said, watching me as I opened the door and stepped out of the c ar. And then there was a moment I was about to shut the door but I hesitated and f or some reason looked back at Nick. Because... this was it. After this I would g o back to my dorm and my life and, depending on how Joe and Kevin were feeling a bout me, I might not see them again. This moment with Nick could be the last I e ver see of their world. Nick looked right at me and gave me a small, solemn nod. I was certain it was me ant to reassure me, and it did a little. I hoped it also meant that maybe we rea lly were in this together that he cared enough to do what he said he would. I swal lowed, then returned the nod. I shut the door and watched as he pulled away from the curb and drove off. Then I turned around and headed back for my dorm, feeli ng, for the first time in a while, completely alone. There was a gnawing feeling inside of me. That was the only way to describe it. When I woke up to the sound of Molly s phone alarm clock, I wasn t even annoyed that (a) she had forgotten to set her phone to vibrate, (b) this alarm went off at 7 :00 a.m, or even (c) it took her one minute to turn the alarm off. This last poi nt may not seem that big of a deal, but one minute feels like an eternity when y ou re lying in a warm bed trying desperately to ignore Chris Brown s "Forever" (seri ously, who wants to listen to that? Who chooses that as their song of choice to wake up to?) as it blasts through the room. While Molly turned the alarm off and, after a few minutes, got up and rifled thr ough her closet, I rolled over on my back and stared at the ceiling. I couldn t qu ite put a finger on what I was feeling if I was feeling anything at all. It was Monday. I, like most of the world, don t quite care for Mondays, but my Mon day schedule was manageable: classes from eleven straight through two. Last night s events came back to me. Well, to phrase it like that suggests that th ey had ever left me, which was untrue. I ll say that I finally let myself think ab out last night s events as opposed to trying to hide them, as though I could someh

ow drown them in my mundane thoughts. I couldn t dwell on them any longer. What ha ppened had happened. I had spent so much time thinking and worrying about all of the secrets and lies that it was almost a relief to have it all over. Well, not quite a relief. Strip the word of all positive connotations, keep its most basi c meaning, and that s what it was. Was I thinking too rationally? I do that sometimes when everything goes wrong I di sconnect myself from my emotions as though it s healthier to think than to feel. S omehow I can never quite achieve a healthy balance of the two on the first try. Molly took her towel off the rack on the closet door and slipped into her flip-f lops. I returned my eyes to the ceiling. It was over. Wasn t it? Was it? I had to remind myself that, like last night, I st ill had no answers. I needed something else to think about, at least temporarily until I trusted myself to be able to think about it without overdosing on feeli ng or logic. I had a life before them, didn t I? Sort of. I had Rachel then, and I had school. I was sucking at school still was, a ctually, but it s getting to be too late in the semester to change it and yet school still somehow drained all of my time, energy, and efforts from me. And then Rac hel left and all I had was Kevin. Kevin, who, as much as I tried to prevent it f rom happening I think we both tried to avoid it, actually, because we knew needing one another could lead us down a dangerous path of dependence became my Rachel. I didn t even want to think about what Joe had become. Molly left the room, towel and robe in hand, to shower. After spending a few mor e minutes staring at the ceiling, I slowly got out of bed to get dressed. I didn t have class for another three hours, but going back to sleep was not an option. Sitting on my bed and spending massive amounts of time online was an option but, despite its appeal, I dismissed it. I was going to do something today. I just had no idea what. Amnesty International holds meetings on Monday nights from six to seven p.m. I w as informed of this at 5:47 when, coming from the on-campus sandwich shop with a roast beef sandwich in hand (why doesn t roast beef get any appreciation? Is it n ot cool enough? I guess it s not the sexiest option as sandwiches go. I ll begrudgin gly admit that chicken and turkey are probably sexier. There s something inherentl y appealing about poultry. Roast beef is probably too manly to be sexy), I spott ed a flier on the bulletin board on the door. I chose to take it as a sign. Then again, there was also a flier for Asian girls interested in egg donation, so th at may have been a sign as well, but I m selfish and I like eggs. All eggs. Mine. So Amnesty International it was. As I sat in a classroom unwrapping my sandwich amongst a group of about thirty-s omething strangers, I suddenly became aware of how out of place I was. I don t oft en do this, go to club meetings, the reason for this more out of apathy than any thing else. If I were to join a club it would be for something I was interested in, something that related to me. Like the cooking club. I hear they offer free samples. But Amnesty International, jeez. That s hardcore shit. I ll have to pretend I care about other people. I know I should, and on some vague, uninformed level I do, but I don t go around looking for classrooms to sit in so I can congregate with others who also claim to care about other people. As I bit into my unsexy, manly sandwich, I decided I was probably avoiding my pr oblems by throwing myself into someone else s. And by "someone else" I mean, judgi ng by what was written on the chalkboard, Africa. Apparently there s famine.

I looked around the room, at the students around me clustered together at their seats, talking and laughing. How many of these people were doing the same thing I was? How many only got into this to distract themselves from their own problem s? No one wants to admit it because it s better to simply appear selfless, but I m w illing to bet a lot of the people who go into volunteer work are more messed up than they let on. Most people, even. I m sure there are some people whose lives ar e perfect and whose selfless desire to make a difference in the world leads them to volunteer... but they re probably rare. Seeing everyone sectioned off, having formed their own groups of friends, obviou sly long ago, made me once again question what I was doing there. I can t just div e headfirst into something and expect it to make a difference in my life. Chance s are I wouldn t be committing to this club and I doubted I d show up for another me eting. This was a one-time thing, a hasty and impulsive decision I only made bec ause I was tired of my own life. I wished I had made more of an effort to make friends. Before, I d never considere d the possibility that I wouldn t have Rachel. And now it was too late in the year to change any of it. I finished the sandwich and crumpled the wrapper in a corner of my desk. With no thing to do, I looked around the room again. This time I found a familiar face s taring back at me. In any other circumstance it might have been awkward to see Lucas here, since we went from dating to not speaking in a day, a day that occurred well over a mont h ago. But I was feeling lost because I knew I didn t belong here, and I was sure he could tell. And, judging by the way he was sitting alone with a book in his h and, he didn t belong here either. There was no chance to make any sort of attempt at communication because a girl who I could only assume was the club s president leaned against the desk in front and began talking about the meeting s agenda. Lovely. I was here to make myself care about people other than myself, but I fou nd myself tuning out the girl and casting the occasional glance over at Lucas. H e never returned my gaze, but I could tell he wasn t paying attention. He appeared to be staring straight ahead at the girl at the front of the room, but his eyes were cast downward at the paperback book he held open on his desk. Sneaky, Luca s. I actually listened to her for the remainder of her spiel. There was going to be a social on Sunday for something about poverty. I still wasn t sure how the group worked yes, they were the UCLA division of Amnesty International, but... what did they do, really? Clearly they talked about the world s problems, but what kind of difference did they actually make in the world? It s a pretty big undertaking. Wh at s wrong with helping the bums who hang around on campus? (Well, besides the fac t that some of them are prone to verbally sexually assaulting some of the people who are kind enough to drop a quarter in their cups.) Perhaps she explained all of this in the first half of her speech. It seemed that their method of solving famine and poverty is through having soci als. And sign-making there was going to be a sign-making "party" at her house late r that week. What kind of club was this? She wrapped up her speech by saying there was a sign-up sheet going around for t hose who wanted to help out with a canned goods drive and saying there were chip s and soda by the door. Obviously the second announcement interested me more.

I wasn t all that hungry my manly sandwich had proved its vigor by doing a decent jo b of keeping me full but I was feeling socially awkward because now that no one wa s at the head of the room giving a weird speech about parties and socials that s omehow helped the world, the other club members had resumed their conversations. And when I feel socially awkward I find that food gives me something to do. I grabbed a handful of Sun Chips and put them on my plate. I nibbled on the corn er of one of them as I contemplated the sodas. I wasn t at all thirsty, and I coul d stand to forego the calories it would cost me, but... social awkwardness. So I poured myself a cup of Sprite. As I stood awkwardly at the table, wondering whether I should stand there and be mysterious for a few minutes or just shrink back to my isolated seat, I glanced around the room again, and this time Lucas was definitely looking at me. We maintained eye contact for a few solid seconds. Taking a chance, I gave him a small smile and waved. He smiled and waved back. This was good. I raised my eyebrows at him and he cocked his head, indicating for me to join hi m at his seat. Feeling a dual sense of relief and dread, I headed for his seat a nd sat next to him. "Hi," I said. That seemed like a good place to start. "Hey." And then the conversation between us was dead. I searched for a safe subject to bring up. I knew there were thousands I hear that How are you? is pretty popular but somehow I came up with nothing. "How are you?" He focused his blue eyes on me. I wasn t sure how to answer, so I looked at my plate and stuck a chip in my mouth. As I chewed, I found an answer: "Well, I m not hungry." I gave him a small smile and offered him my plate, which he accepted with a smile of his own. Look at us, getting along and shit. "Me neither," he said, giving me an ironic little grin and eating a chip. I laughed, and there seemed to be less awkwardness. It was still there, of cours e, but... there was less of it. "I ve never been here before," I confessed, glancing around the room at those talk ing near us. He raised his eyebrows and smiled a little more. "Me neither!" he said excitedly . "I saw a flier, and I have an hour to waste, so..." That led us to talking about the flier and musing about where else they put the fliers. It was a really dumb piece of the conversation, actually. You know when you re in an awkward situation with someone you don t really talk go and you start j oking around about the stupidest things, things that aren t even funny and that yo u wouldn t be talking about with your friends, because awkward laughter is better than awkward silence? Yes, Lucas and I were having such a conversation. It was g ood that we were able to talk and laugh for a few minutes, but it would be a bor e to recap. We touched on something slightly deeper after that, when we started getting to t

he real reason why we were here. We couldn t really blame the fliers. Hundreds of people had probably seen the fliers and decided not to go, and yet he and I had made the less common decision to go. We both knew there was something more going on beneath the surface. "I felt like I should care more," I told him when he asked me. "Like, about the world. Not just me." "Yeah," he said as recognition lit up in his eyes, nodding with what I said. "An d I was sick of my routine. I m not really involved in school, you know?" It was my turn to nod vigorously. We then had a vaguely deeper conversation abou t school involvement and decided our lack thereof was a combination of apathy, s elfishness and narcissism. As we decided that we probably possessed more of the three qualities than most other people, a sign-up sheet for the canned food driv e got passed to my desk. We both stared at it. There was only one name on it. Th irty people in the classroom, at least, and yet only one name on the paper. I su spected it was the president s. "Maybe," Lucas said slowly, looking around at the people talking around us people whose conversations, I was sure, had nothing at all to do with anything related to the club "Maybe they re all as apathetic as we are." "Then why are they here?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. He stared intently at a group of people sitting near us. "Sex." I snorted. (Yes, I am that easy. Mention "sex" and I laugh. It s a little sad that my comedy standards are that low, but I ve accepted it.) "What?" "I m serious," he asserted, laughing a little. "Look." He motioned to the group by us, two girls and three guys. "See how the blonde girl keeps biting her lip?" I looked at what he was referring to and saw that, indeed, a blonde girl was bei ng extremely coy with the guy next to her. "And his hand s on her knee," I observe d incredulously. "The nerve," he said in mock-indignation. Our eyes met and we laughed. "How do you know they re not already dating?" I asked as we both continued to star e shamelessly at the pair. "She s laughing too loudly at his jokes." As if on cue, she burst into a fit of gi ggles. "We didn t hear what he said. He could be hilarious." "He s wearing a shirt that says I snorted. "Point taken." We watched them for a few more seconds, then I remembered the form in front of m e. "So," I said, looking at the blank spaces under the one name listed, "I guess we re the only ones here who aren t interested in sex and actually want to help the world." I paused. "I take that back. I m still interested in sex." I cringed as s oon as I said it. I didn t want it to sound like a proposition; I was merely stati ng a truth. As a college student, sex interests me. Hell, as a human, sex intere sts me. "Me too," he admitted. "Though as virgins our scope is probably severely limited Git-r-done, " Lucas pointed out dryly.

." My smile froze at that. It would be weird to correct him and say I wasn t a virgin . But when he saw my expression, he immediately knew what was going on. "We never had the sex talk, did we?" he asked genuinely, seeming incredulous as though he only just realized it. I shook my head. "We didn t really have... any sort of talk." "Yeah," he agreed, nodding thoughtfully. "We didn t really... know each other... d id we?" "Not really," I admitted. "But we acted like we did." "Yeah," he said, nodding again. "I remember the night I officially asked you out I was talking to my best friend and he didn t know anything about you." He reache d over my desk and took a sip from my soda. "Like, he d ask me basic stuff and I w as like, Oh my God, I don t know... what race she is, what her favorite color is, w hen her birthday is... " I laughed. I hadn t ever thought to consider Lucas side of things. I had been too b usy worrying about my own life, with my deal with Kevin just starting out and Ra chel leaving, that Lucas s side had never concerned me. "Half Japanese," I informe d him, grabbing a chip and taking a bite. The corners of his mouth lifted a litt le at the edges. "Maroon," I continued. "And January 8th." "Well," he said contemplatively. "Now I know." After reaching for the last chip on my plate and breaking it in half, leaving me with the other half (I was impre ssed. What a damn gentleman. Well, sort of), he said, "Not that knowing those th ings would have changed anything between us, but..." I knew what he was getting at. "It helps." Knowing the little things about someo ne aren t that important, at least not the knowledge itself it s knowing that you know the little things that is. It provides assurance that maybe you and that person are doing the right thing, that you just might know each other well enough to s tart something for real. I looked down at my half of the chip resting on the plate, a small wave of sadne ss coming over me as I realized something. Dragging the chip around the plate, I thought to myself, Caucasian. Blue. August 15th. A silence washed over the two of us after that as the two of us reflected on the past. I then realized that people were getting ready to leave. Lucas soon reali zed it too, as he checked his watch and said, "Jeez, it s almost 7:10. I have to g o." As he put his book into his backpack I remembered I had left my backpack by my o riginal seat a few rows down, and ventured over to get it. On my way back to Luc as I saw the club president, asking people passing her on their way out the door if they had seen a form. "Oh, the form," I said, remembering I had accidentally held it hostage. I picked it up and then stopped. "What?" he asked, noticing that I had paused as he put his backpack on. I reached into my own backpack and pulled out a pen. And then I was signing my n ame.

"You re gonna do it?" I looked up at Lucas, the person I somehow had a history with despite tonight s di scovery that I barely knew him. "You should do it with me." It was his turn to pause, staring down at it on the desk. I nudged the pen and p aper toward him. "Really?" he asked, looking back up at me, eyebrows raised. "We should be friends. Like, really be friends." I m aware of how lame it sounded but it was arguably the most genuine thing I had said all day. I think we both n eeded this. We could try to deny it, but the evidence our presence at the club mee ting because, truthfully, we had nothing else to do, no one to talk to, and want ed obligations was too obvious. Lucas seemed to get what I was saying. Our eye contact went unwavered for severa l seconds, both of us looking at each other with serious expressions. And then a small hint of a smile escaped his mouth. I smiled as he leaned down, picked up the pen, and wrote his name underneath mine. Paper in hand, he returned the pen to me and together we made our way down to th e front of the room, where the president was still looking around the room for t he sheet. After he gave it to her and we were walking out the door, he said, "So I ll see you Sunday morning." Aw, it was Sunday morning? I then recalled how the paper had said we were to sho w up on campus at 8 a.m. It s for a good cause, I reminded myself. It s times like t his, when I m considering blowing off feeding the hungry so I can sleep, that I re member why I don t join clubs like Amnesty International. "I ll see you Sunday," I confirmed. He grinned and waved good-bye, heading off in another direction. I turned and began walking out of the building in the general direction of my dorm. I had a ten-minute walk ahead of me. I started thinking a bout the day, how crappily it had started and how it had actually been an okay d ay. Sometimes it s not so bad to do something different. Feeling suddenly inspired after such an evening, I pulled my phone out of my poc ket. I browsed through the contacts until I found the name I was looking for: Ra chel. I firmly pressed the call button and was surprised to feel my heart start poundi ng faster as I held the phone to my ear. I shouldn t be nervous just because I m cal ling my sister. This was ridiculous, but it was also sad. It had been so long si nce our last conversation that I was getting nervous just calling her, not knowi ng whether she would answer or what we would talk about, or "Hello?" I hadn t heard her voice in so long that it took me a moment to collect myself. I slowed down my walking. "Karen?" she said. "Hi," I said quietly. "How... how are you?" She sounded just as shocked that we were actually talking on the phone after such a long period of nothing. Nothing caused by... I don t eve n know. I had meant to say something normal, but after hearing her voice it hit me just how absent she had been. My thoughts went into a whirlwind as I wondered in a br

ief moment of paranoia whether we were fading apart, or had already grown apart and it was too late to stop it, if our relationship was so weak that geography o f all things had wrecked it. More than that, I started getting angry. Why hadn t s he called me? Why was she too busy for me? I was taking twenty-two fucking units and I had always found time for her. It was only then that it occurred to me ju st how much I needed her, no matter how I had tried to deny it before. "Karen?" "I missed you." I didn t even try to hide the shakiness in my voice couldn t, anyway, because by this point I was too far gone. Come to think of it, I was too far gon e a long time ago but I hadn t known it until now. "I missed you too," she said quietly. "Karen, are you okay?" Somehow hearing her sympathetic voice made things worse as I remembered lying wi th her on her bed whenever something was wrong, talking things through with her until I was okay. And then, finally, because my mind was on super speed anyway a nd it was pulling out all the fucking stops, I allowed myself to think about las t night losing Kevin, losing Joe all in one night. I probably wouldn t see them agai n, would I? I stopped to sit on a bench in front of the place where I had gotten my sandwich just over an hour ago. My breathing accelerated, my nose tingled, my vision blu rred, and then I was crying. Sobbing. I was sobbing into the phone. All I could think about was how alone I f elt, how sick I was of being left alone just as I was coming to depend on someon e. At first Rachel was freaking out as she frantically asked if everything was okay , whether anything had happened to me. I managed to choke through my sobs that n o, nothing had happened. Then, when she realized further inquisition would be fu tile because I was too busy crying my eyes out (and being stared at curiously by all who passed by me, God damn it). So she stayed on the line and listened to m e cry. She didn t say anything, didn t try to comfort me she just waited. It was nice. Finally I was able to get control over myself, and the sobs soon subsided into r agged, shaky breaths, which then turned into slow, heavy breathing. "You better?" she asked softly. "Yeah." I used my sleeve to wipe my eyes. She paused before asking the next question: "What s wrong?" I didn t answer, not kno wing where the hell to start. She seemed to figure this out, and tried another, more pointed question: "Did something happen with Lucas?" Wiping at my eyes with my sleeve, I laughed. "What?" "Oh my God," I said. "I just realized how long it s been since we ve talked. You thi nk..." I stopped as a small fit of laughter came over me again. "You think I m sti ll with Lucas." "You broke up?" She sounded confused at my laughter. Frankly, so was I. But laug hing was better than crying, wasn t it? "Oh my God," I repeated, getting a hold of myself. "Yeah. A while ago."

"So... what is it?" I sighed, shaking my head. "It s... a long story. You re probably too busy being awe some with your new project." "I m never too busy for you," she said sincerely, sounding surprised and a little hurt that I would think such a thing. "Okay," I said quietly. "So, the long story?" "Right. Um." I crossed one leg over the other as I thought about where to begin. "So you know how Lucas didn t know about Kevin?" Rachel and I talked for well over an hour. It grew darker around me until it was night and we were still talking, discussing my life and her project (which, of course, was going wonderfully). We both apologized multiple times for not callin g and vowed to get back into the habit of speaking regularly. I trusted that she and I would actually follow through with this; we had no reason not to. Our lon g silence was the result of bad timing and misconceptions. It had nothing to do with us. After we hung up, I exhaled loudly, feeling a sense of relief. I felt better, kn owing that she and I were back to our old ways. I looked at my phone and saw tha t I had a new voicemail message I had indeed heard the beeps at one point during o ur conversation but we were talking so deeply I had outright refused to answer w hoever was trying to call me on the other line. When I saw the missed call was from Joe, my heart began pounding quickly in my c hest and my mind raced, thinking of all the possibilities. I took a deep breath, called voicemail, and prepared myself for the worst. "Hi, Karen? I just wanted to... well, I don t know. I ll talk to you later, I guess. Bye." And so I remained on the bench for another half hour, listening to the message o ver and over again, trying to analyze his tone, the pauses, his words. He didn t s ound particularly depressed, nor did he sound upbeat by any means. It sounded li ke a regular message anyone would leave. I began tentatively feeling hopeful. Not only had he called and left a message, but he had implied future contact: I ll talk to you later. He was going to call me again, or he expected me to call him or something. Never mind that I guess he a dded to it. That part was negligible. Feeling giddy and cautious at the same time, I called him back. With each ring I got more and more nervous, and my spirits sank when at last I reached his voice mail. I considered hanging up before leaving a message, since I hadn t planned wha t to say and I wasn t sure if I could even think of anything worth saying, but I d ecided to stay on the line and say something. It wasn t what the message said; it was what it meant that I was leaving one at all. I can be so deep sometimes. "Hi Joe," I began, trying my best to sound positive but not upbeat. It was a str ange balance. "I m returning your call." Drat, that sounds too formal. I didn t want him to think I was only calling him because he had called me. "I m glad you calle d," I added. "Call me back." I toyed with the idea of adding something else, and

ended up finishing with, "I d love to hear from you." With that I hung up. I put the phone in my pocket and slowly stood up from the bench where I had been sitting for nearly two hours, then walking in the direction of my dorm. And now we wait. Waiting nearly drove me insane. The following day was Tuesday, a day on which I have five and a half hours of cl ass. Normally when in class I put my phone on silent to avoid being glared at by professors, but I was waiting and I was desperate, so I switched it to vibrate instead. That, for me, is a big deal. While a phone on vibrate doesn t make profes sors stop talking and glare, it does make them pause for a moment and cock their heads to the side before continuing their lecture while a student somewhere dis creetly fumbles through his or her backpack to stop the vibrating. I don t like fu mbling. So, even though it meant I sat through all my classes thinking about my phone an d planning how I would fumble as smoothly as possible should the phone ring and turn out to be Joe, I need not have worried. I could have put it on its normal l oud setting and it wouldn t have mattered: he didn t call. That evening, while reading an article for poli sci, I thought about what I miss ed most: the e-mails. Joe and I didn t talk on the phone much, we only saw each ot her rarely, but to make up for that we e-mailed. All the time, several times a d ay. No matter how bad of a day I was having, I could count on an e-mail on my in box. Sometimes, though, if he hadn t e-mailed me for a while--three or more hours-my productivity was shot to hell. I could be in the library with a stack of rea ding to do, and yet... I couldn t. Not until there was an e-mail. And until I got one, I wasted time online, checking back occasionally (read: frequently) until I saw that precious numeral enveloped in parentheses signaling an unread e-mail. And now... it was like this was all one extended version of that. Because I wasn t getting anything done, not really--not when all I could think about was Joe and how wrong it was that I didn t know what he was doing right then. I sat in the study lounge staring at my reader until the words blurred together. This was not what I needed right now, not when I was doing abysmally in school and finals were around the corner. What I did need... was someone to talk to. The loneliness was killing me. Joe, i deally, but I missed Kevin too. He had somehow become my best friend, and losing both of them at the same time was too great of a loss. Tears stung at my eyes. I hastily wiped them away, then slammed the reader shut and refreshed my inbox once again.

I went through another full day of this hell of loneliness. I am all for spendin g time in solitude, but there comes a point when the loneliness that accumulates after going even two days without having a valid conversation with anyone, havi ng a growing store of thoughts to share but no one to share them with, begins ea ting at you. On the second day Rachel texted me, which helped, but at that point my loneliness wasn t something texting could solve. I needed a catharsis. At some time past two in the morning, I lay awake in bed replaying the dramatic events of the last time I had seen, talked to, Joe and Kevin. I should have been sleeping, especially because I had a class at nine the next morning, but... I c ouldn t. I knew if I tried to focus on falling asleep, my mind would return to the

very thing I had just been thinking about, and thinking about these torturous t hings would keep me up all night anyway, so really, why not give in to them? As I was considering this logic, my phone rang. At first I thought it was an alarm I had mistakenly set, but then I realized it was B.B. Goode, my ringtone for Joe (I hate that song, but I thought it was only fitting that the song his voice rapes is the one to be a ringtone). My hand scr ambled to reach for the phone under my pillow. For a moment I stared, holding th e ringing thing in my hand so I could read the Joe Calling, just to make sure th at it was really happening. I took a breath, braced myself--glanced over at my roommate Molly, who was engro ssed in watching some movie in parts on YouTube--and answered. Hello? Karen. He didn t say it like a question, like he was checking to see that it was me. It was more like a quiet breath of suppressed relief. Hi, I said quietly. I looked back at Molly. Her back was to me and she had earbuds in her ears, but I didn t want to have this conversation--whatever it would turn out to be--with anyone listening, so I sat up and pulled aside the covers. How ar e you? I grabbed my key from off my desk, then walked to the hallway. I m okay. I sat against the wall just outside my door. He didn t ask me how I was doing, so I told him anyway. I ve missed you. I ve missed you too. Just hearing that made my heart beat faster. Maybe we weren t a lost cause. How are... things at home? I asked tentatively.

He sighed loudly, more from exhaustion than exasperation. You really want to know ? I could have done what I swore I d do the last time he asked that question wheneve r I asked him about anything serious--I told myself I d grip him by the shoulders, look into his eyes, and say firmly to him, Yes. That s why I asked it. Maybe I d ev en slap him for added effect. But now, here, I couldn t respond with anything but sensitivity. I d lost the right to be that frank with Joe, to assert my opinion that boldly and try to make him stop asking that question. I really do, I said quietly. It s... I think I liked it

There was a long moment of silence before he proceeded. better before. When they were ignoring me. What s it like now?

My parents... they re trying too hard. I guess to make up for not trying at all. Th ey re talking about going to family therapy, and they re being super nice to me, and it s just... weird, you know? And they want me to help them work this out, but... why should I? Because, I tried, they re your family. That should mean something. I didn t add that I k new it meant something, knew how much of a family-oriented person he was and tha t was why his family s path to ruin was breaking his heart. And yet, I couldn t argu

e any of this with him. I had to stay tentative, cautious. I didn t want to anger him by forcing him to face his feelings. We were still on tentative ground. I ha d to proceed with caution. They weren t there for me, he insisted. Not when I needed them. But you were.

I felt the another small flutter of hope. I ll always be there, I murmured. I then r egretted saying that. I shouldn t be making this about me. I was saying this to re assure him, yes, but also to remind him how important a role I had played in his life, and... that wasn t fair, was it? Didn t I owe it to him to be selfless and do whatever I could to help him talk out his issues, regardless of where he and I stood? (Am I even capable of such selflessness?) I believe that, he whispered. After everything that s happened, I still...

Of course I d... I too trailed off. Did he really think I wouldn t be there for him? We fell into silence. I didn t want to be selfish and bring the conversation back to me again, but I had to know. I had to. Why would you think I wouldn t be there for you? What you did with Kevin, Oh, I whispered. he answered matter-of-factly.

Joe, it wasn t...

It s fine,

he said quickly.

I paused. Is it? Yeah, it s whatever. But the casualness he said it with sounded off. I didn t want to press it but I had to. Can I just... explain? I don t want to hear it. Something about this didn t sound right. It was a little off. I couldn t tell if he was being passive aggressive, or if he really was fine with everything, or maybe he was just sad and everything came out different. My heart began pounding fast and I started feeling a little sick, knowing that w e were discussing something serious and that any moment he could come out with w hat he buried inside and just... kill me. I swallowed, braced myself, and asked: Look, do you actually... do you forgive me for what I did with Kevin? He sighed. I waited in tense silence for his response. It s like... on one hand it just tears me up inside. But on the other I m just not su re how much I want to deal with it. I swallowed again. With... what?

The you and Kevin thing. You. A lump seemed to be growing in my throat and I blinked back tears, trying to ign ore the stinging sensation at the bridge of my nose. He didn t say it but it was c lear: He hadn t forgiven me. Not even close. Karen?

I was too busy trying not to cry but I knew I had to say something. to deal with me? But I m pretty sure I need you.

You don t want

Well that s fucking contradictory. What kind of shit is this? I thought as I rubbe d my teary eyes. He can t just suggest that he doesn t forgive me and go on to say h e needs to me. Joe, you are fucking with my mind here. Can I come over tomorrow? he asked. Joe! I half sighed, half shouted. he said. Pleaded.

I hate it here,

I closed my eyes. I thought about Joe and his fucked-up family, and I thought ab out how good it would feel to see him again. What did it matter if he hadn t yet s orted out his feelings? What had happened and what had been said last weekend wa s a lot to take in, and it was ridiculous of me to expect everything to get sort ed out and dealt with right away. We had to take it one step at a time. Joe want ed to see me tomorrow. That was a start. I d love it if you came over tomorrow. We made plans to meet for lunch, then go to my dorm after and hang out. I cut cl ass to see him. It was the only time period I could guarantee that Molly wouldn t be around, since we both have class Wednesdays until four. We met at our usual spot, on the street closest to standing outside the parking meter, hands digging ing for change is not something I d imagine he did image. I like when I see him like this. And I like cause of his engaging in this everyday activity. Hi, I said, coming up behind him. my dorm building. I found him around in his pockets. Search very often and I smiled at the that him visiting me was the

He looked over his shoulder at me and smiled. Hey. I d planned on hugging him--because I d wanted to so badly the night he unraveled, b ecause that night I didn t know if I d even see him again... just out of sheer relie f that he wanted to see me--but it would have been awkward. His back was turned to me, his hands were in his pockets, and he was scrounging for change. If I was bold I would have kissed him, but I didn t know what we were anymore. First we we re friends, then after we kissed we decided we could be more than friends as lon g as we avoided kissing, then he broke it off, and then, for a happy, glorious h our, our relationship was something solid, something that could be defined as bo yfriend and girlfriend--but then that fateful evening progressed and I wasn t sure what we were anymore. I still have no idea. He s the boy I love. Why can t that be enough? Do you have a quarter? he asked.

I have a whole bunch in my purse, I admitted. His eyes lowered to the purse I held. I looked at him skeptically. Yeah?

They re my laundry quarters. They re precious.

He smirked. I missed that smirk.

How precious?

Around these parts, the conversion rate is roughly a dollar a quarter. With an I call bullshit smile, Joe said, your laundry quarters. You do not pay a dollar per quarter for

Of course not. But I am the one who acquires the quarters in the first place. So if some guy-Oh, I m just some guy , huh?

I grinned at him in a just kidding way, but truthfully it s not as though I had an y idea what we were to each other anymore, so some guy was a fitting term so far . We didn t kiss or even hug upon greeting--all he did was hit me up for quarters. If some guy, I continued, were to demand quarters from me, of course I d charge him extra. Just like if I was selling drugs-Nice. --I d charge you more than whatever the initial cost of production was. That s how pr ofit works, Joe. Thank you, college girl, he said dryly. I smiled. We weren t off to a bad start. Well , he stated, pulling his wallet from his pocket and thumbing through it, I have a five-dollar bill. What does that get me? Five quarters and a-- I paused. I had been about to say five quarters and a handjo b--like, ha ha,, he s throwing money at me so I should liken myself to a prostitut e because evidently my self-worth and grade of humor are equally low--until I re membered that the handjob was just the thing I d given Kevin and that Joe apparent ly hadn t yet forgiven me for. But then I realized Joe had no idea what Kevin and I had done since it had all been referred to under the hooking up umbrella, which can mean just about anything, so saying the word handjob shouldn t lead to any sor t of awkwardness. Not saying it, though, clearly doesn t help matters either. All that it led to was Joe giving me a prompting and quizzical look, waiting for me to finish my sentence. Panicked, I ran through other things I could say. Kiss? Hug? Straying from the e ntire prostitute vein, what other kind of joke can I make? Shit, he s still expect ing me to say something. Button, I finished lamely. What? I kept meaning to sew it back purse for safe-keeping. Al came off my jeans and I d that I literally eat until my any case, but let s not go America. Or Americans in

His brow furrowed in confusion.

There--there s a button. Um, it came off my shirt and on but I never got around to it... so I keep it in my l of this was true--except for the fact that it really idn t want him to think that I m such a marathon eater buttons pop off. Which is generally true about me, in perpetuating stereotypes about chubby girls all across general, I guess.

Joe was staring at me with a look of intense concentration. You are so weird. Well, I couldn t deny that. Do you want the quarters or not? I

You are also totally ripping me off, he added, handing over the five-dollar bill. don t even want to know how much the drugs you sell are.

I took my wallet out of my purse and selected five quarters from the coin sectio n. Quarters, ye shall be dearly missed. Feeling around in the bottom of my purse , my fingers closed over a flat, hard object. I dropped the quarters--and the bu tton--into Joe s open hand. He smiled at the sight of the button (and didn t comment on how it looked more lik e a jeans button than a shirt one, which is either out of politeness or because he s not thinking too hard on the difference between pants buttons and shirt butto ns, thank God) and slipped the quarters one by one into the meter. The button, I noticed, he put in his wallet. Now that that s taken care of... He smiled at me, in a way that was both shy and tak e-charge, if that makes any sense, and put his arms on my shoulders, pulling me closer. Hi, he said quietly when our faces were inches apart. Hi, I returned shyly, giddy at the prospect of where this was headed.

He leaned a little farther down and our lips met in a kiss that was soft and lin gering at first, but the few that followed were a little harder, in a good way. He smiled down at me when we parted. I had to admit that I did too. I missed that.

Haven t we only kissed like twice before, though?

All the more reason for me to miss it. I smiled. So, lunch? I kind of just want to hang out in your room. I don t understand people. When plans to have a meal with someone are made, I prep are beforehand. I don t eat snacks preceding, I make sure I m wearing comfortably lo ose pants (something I didn t do the time the button popped off--a rookie mistake. I have since learned), and I make sure that by the time mealtime comes around, I am sufficiently hungry. Come on, Joe, I prepared for you. Really? I tried to sound casual but I think I came off sounding as though my heart was breaking. He noticed. ...Or we can get something first... Just... a hot dog, maybe, from down the street? I m starving, I confessed.

He nodded, and we walked the half block to Desi Dog for my hot dog. I felt a lit tle weird, being the only one eating--well, being the only eater among non-eater s is something I ve done quite often, but Joe and I had made lunch plans, and yet he wasn t hungry and I didn t know why. The not knowing, coupled with eating a hot d og while he walked next to me in silence, was what left me feeling weird. Why did you want to come over? I asked.

He shrugged. I wanted to see you. Yeah, I quickly agreed, at s going on at home? and I wanted to see you, but... you wanted to come here. Wh

I just... Joe kicked a rock before we headed up the steps to the entrance of my bu ilding. I feel like now they re all treating me like some fragile thing. I can t be m yself around them anymore.

I nodded. I handed my hot dog to him as I fished around in my purse for my keys, and when I unlocked the front door of the building I noted with satisfaction th at he had taken a bite of my hot dog. After you, I said, holding the door open for him. He nodded graciously and we walk ed through the entrance, waiting for the elevator. He gave me back my hot dog an d we both stood, facing forward without speaking. I turned my head slightly, cur iously watching Joe. He was focused on watching the small screen above the eleva tor, counting down the floors it was hitting as it descended. I faced forward ag ain. We didn t say anything in the elevator, either. I finished my hot dog and we got o ut, walking down the hall to my room. When we entered my room, the first place he went to was the bed, just like the l ast time he was here. He laid down on his back, resting his head on my pillow an d kicking his shoes off, all in one smooth motion. You tired? He shook his head--and then, seconds later, closed his eyes. Uh-huh, I said dryly.

Opening his eyes, Joe looked at me standing there in front of my desk as I put d own my purse. Come here. He held out the arm closest to me and I gladly crawled on to the bed and into his arms. I laid on my back and he rolled over onto his side , resting his head on my chest and his hand on my stomach. It was nice, the way he curled around me like that. I ran my hand through his hair, trying to think of something to say. this counts as going to second base. He laughed, a little. Taking his lack of response as a sign of wanting to lie there quietly and maybe even fall asleep, I said nothing more. A few minutes later, Joe spoke up: What are the bases? I wonder if

I knew he couldn t see me but I looked at him--or, rather, his hair--in surprise a nyway. You re kidding. Well, I mean... I know the bases, but... in terms of hooking up. My heart started pounding. Here we go. I wondered if he could tell my heart rate was accelerating since he was lying on my chest and all. I swallowed and tried to calm down. You re asking what Kevin and I did? There was a pause. Yes. In terms of bases?

I swallowed again, hard. Sure, if you want.

Why did he sound so casual about the whole affair? How was he going to take this ?

I took a breath, ready to speak, then paused, and exhaled. I took in another bre ath, deeper this time. Third base. I--I gave him a hand job and he... fingered me . I don t know why I elaborated. I thought that maybe explaining would redeem me so mehow, because by saying third base I m also inviting the notion that we engaged i n oral sex, which we didn t! That gives me a point, right? Yay for Karen? But explaining exactly what it was we did, in the crudest terms imaginable, just made me feel ashamed of it all. He nodded, his head still resting on me. His silence could have meant so many things that as my paranoia increased I grew more and more frantic. What? Joe rolled over onto his back so now that the both of us were lying side by side , staring up at my white stucco ceiling. I just... I don t get it. I mean, I would never... I could never... Face flushing in shame, I asked, What are you saying?

I--I... From the way he was stumbling with his words, it was clear that there was conflict. He was either saying something he didn t want to say but somehow, inexpl icably, had no choice because the thoughts had sat in his mind for too long, or-and this was the option I feared far more--I could be wrong. Perhaps these word s weren t tumbling out uncontrollably but he had calmly been calculating, waiting for the right moment to say these things. When my heart belongs to someone, Joe finally said quietly, still looking up at th e ceiling, I can t go and kiss someone else, let alone do any more than that. He sai d it so evenly, like he wasn t lying there on my bed accusing me of numerous unspo ken things. I was shocked. We were broken up, assuming we had ever been together at all, and I was depressed, I-That s fine, he said dismissively. I m not accusing you of cheating on me or anything, because I understand the circumstances. But I ve been thinking about it and... I d on t get it. When I m depressed, I listen to music. I watch crappy TV. I don t go off and fuck someone. Joe! I croaked, incredulous. he was quick to add, as if that meant anything.

Hypothetically,

While I laid there, frozen, Joe continued speaking in that calm, robotic tone he d suddenly mastered. I m not mad at you, and I don t want to stop seeing you, but... s omething s changed. So I m sorry to lay all this on you like this, and I didn t expect to say any of this when we met today, but these are the things I ve been thinking about since I found out about it and I m pretty sure I don t care if anything I ve sa id hurts you or makes you cry. Because it s the way I feel. What can you say when someone tells you he doesn t care if he makes you cry? I was in shock. After hearing that strange confession, or accusation, or whatever the hell that verbal non-assault was, all I wanted to do was cry. But thinking abou t what he had just said made me try to force myself not to cry, because... he sa id he didn t care. So why give him a chance to prove it? I never expected to hear anything like this from Joe of all people. I could hard ly think, let alone speak.

What do you expect me to say to that? I said at last. . I don t know, he replied, looking over at me, and to his credit he did sound sincere Maybe I shouldn t have said anything.

And how could I respond to that? I wanted to emphatically say, No, you shouldn t h ave, but at the same time, how are you supposed to make someone apologize for th eir feelings? He was still looking at me, this time looking worried. Are you okay?

I didn t want to cry; I wanted to prove to him that everything he had said to me d idn t hurt me. I wanted to maintain some notion of having the upper hand, not star t crying. Wouldn t crying be admitting defeat? But he was looking right at me in that annoyingly concerned way people look at y ou when they re sympathetic and you re on the verge of tears and seeing their concer n only makes you want to cry more. So I cried. A tear leaked out, and when Joe saw it--along with the way my eyes were getting more and more red-rimmed by the second, and how my lip was trembling because alt hough I am nineteen my lip still fucking trembles when I am about to cry--he mur mured my name and kissed my forehead, pulling me toward him and whispering that he was sorry as I sniffled into his shirt and he kissed my hair. I was nearly hiccuping in my attempts to control my breathing. I know--I know you --don t--care, I got out, but before I could say any more he spoke first. I care, I do. I m sorry. Then--then why-I don t know, he murmured. I thought that maybe if I said everything I d been thinking about for the past few days aloud it would help, but... I shook my head. Yeah, he said quietly. We laid there in silence for a while. I wasn t used to Joe being the one to take c are of me. It was usually the other way around, which I think was epitomized whe n, as we first laid down earlier, he curled against me and laid his head on my c hest. And now things were reversed. It felt nice to be looked after like that, t o have my hair stroked and kissed--nice in the most fucked-up way possible, of c ourse, because he was the one who had caused me to cry in the first place. But I couldn't help liking it, the whole being looked-after thing. Maybe since I'm th e younger sibling I'm used to being babied and taken care of and it's ingrained in me to like it. But I don't think it's specific to birth order. Who doesn't li ke feeling cared after? Are you okay? he asked. I spoke honestly. I don t know. I paused. You?

I don t know. He too paused. But I m going to say one more thing: another... product... of the thinking I ve done these past few days.

I don t know if I can take another product of your thinking. He chuckled softly but I wasn t kidding. I don t know if how I feel about everything is going to stay. And I wondered, at first, if I even loved you. I mean, how cou ld I think these things--and say them--about someone I love? But that s not it. I ve realized--I do love you. More than I understand, I think. I was exhausted and feeling emptied. I was too numb to even care that he d at one point questioned how he felt about me, too numb to be ecstatic that he d just said , for the first time, that he loved me. All I could do was tell the truth. I love you too, I said, my words slightly muffled by speaking into his shirt.

It s funny. The exchange of these words is typically a cause for celebration, or m eaningful looks at the very least, but we weren t celebrating. We were too drained to. I think we just mentally noted that whatever was going on between us, at le ast the problem wasn t that we didn t love each other. It seemed to be, at least to me, some combination of what I had done with Kevin, and Joe s feelings about it. A nd we couldn t change either of those things, especially not right then. So what e lse could we do but do the only thing that gave us any peace and lie there toget her? I fell into a dreamless sleep, feeling, for the first time, relaxed. Even if see ing Joe had left me with a whole new set of problems, what helped right then was knowing that he was there at that moment. When I woke up he was gone. I wasn t sure what to call it, the moment I woke up after crying myself to sleep a nd found that Joe had left. Yes, I was disappointed. It would be lying to say th at I wasn t. But at the same time... I was tired of feeling sad over something tha t I obviously couldn t control. I couldn t help the way he felt, even if the way he felt was stupid (mentally I took great pleasure in finally acknowledging this in sensitive thought of mine). Plus, I was embarrassed. I had cried, been vulnerabl e, as a direct result of something that he said, and he didn t even have the sensi tivity or the remorse to at least wake me up and say good-bye? While I wasn t mad, and didn t think I could be since I knew the extent and complexi ty of Joe s feelings, I was definitely something. Fed-up, maybe, just a little. I wasn t fed-up with him, but with my approach to dealing with him walking on eggshell s trying not to make things worse, going out of my way to treat him like some fr agile flower, keeping my phone on vibrate in class just in case he happened to c all... Worrying wasn t going to change anything, now was it? Working on myself, though, b ecoming better friends with Lucas at that Sunday s Amnesty International canned fo od drive, and trying to bring up my grades that would definitely change things. If Joe happens to get over his stupid feelings (why do I like saying that so much? ), then he can call me, but until then I ll be fine or I ll find a way to be fine, any way on my own. Having that revelation made me feel so liberated that I wanted to burn my bra or something, but the image of me having saggy boobs in a decade or two made me ch ange my mind. Plus it was a nice bra. At least, it wasn t tan-colored and had no h oles in it like one of my older ones. This moment, then, was not marked with a dramatic bra-burning, but I did wipe th e drool that had collected while I was sleeping off of my face. That was somethi ng.

I wasn t feeling too great when Sunday rolled around. I still felt independent and empowered and shit, but my period had started that morning and I just wanted to surrender to my cramps and curl up on my bed watching old Office episodes, not make the world a better place. But, true to my word, I showed up on campus, read y to help... put canned food into boxes, or whatever the hell it was I was going to be doing. It was a mere five minutes past eight o clock, and even the club president was onl y just setting up, but Lucas was leaning against the wall reading a book, like h e d been there all day. I forgot about his punctuality. Hey, I greeted him, leaning against the wall next to him. Hey, he replied, closing his book. How are

He looked up and smiled when he saw me. you? Cramps, I sighed.

For an instant an expression akin to surprise flashed across his features, and i t quickly disappeared. Oh. I m sorry, he said uncomfortably. I miss having friends who are girls. My friends were mostly girls in high school , but since being here I haven t been social enough to make any. Instead, all thes e guys have just been falling into my lap. Karen, be my fake girlfriend. Karen, be my real girlfriend. Karen, I m a douche who ll wear tight pants and make you cry. Also , I love you. Stupid boys and all their stupidness. I decided to slide past that pile of awkwardness by asking, What are you reading? I hate when people ask me that question. I just want to say, Look, you probably h aven t read it. I m not saying I m more well-read than you because it s probably just th e opposite, but damn, of all the books in the world, and of the books you ve read and I ve read, the overlapping section of the Venn diagram of books we ve both read is probably pretty small. What makes you think this one book is part of that sma ll number? Perhaps this desire to say hostile things to friendly inquiries is why I lack fr iends. But really, what happens next is I show them the random book I m reading fo r Classics and they say Oh in disappointment. Still, though, despite my hatred of being asked that question, I always have to ask it. Because... what if it is a book I ve read too? Then we ll have something in common! And then we can skip the small talk and instead have a conversation abou t the book, and then we ll be best friends. Lucas showed me the book s cover: Vathek by William Beckford. Of course, I d never h eard of the book or the author. Oh. I paused. How is it? where I left off, he was sacrifi

Well, he said, tucking the book into his backpack, cing fifty naked little boys. Delightful. He laughed. Yeah.

Lucas and I then engaged in another round of small-talk that was slightly intere sting but not interesting enough to be recapped, and so we shall omit the partic

ulars. But knowing that we were getting better at talking made me happy. It s funn y to recall that we were once in a relationship, considering how stilted and eve n awkward our relations were now. But it was better this way, and certainly more refreshing. No longer were we trying to define ourselves by filling our interpr etations of boyfriend and girlfriend. It was a lot of pressure, especially since I was still last as to who I myself was. It was better now we could enjoy each ot her s company, which was all we ever wanted anyway, without the pressure of the ot her stuff. Hey, Lucas said to me. I think she s starting.

I followed his gaze to see that two girls had shown up and assisted the club pre sident (what was her name?) With setting up the table and the banner it displaye d. I guess we should have helped with that, I commented, feeling vaguely guilty bu t at the same time perfectly okay with my level of non-intervention. Eh, he replied, which summed up how I felt about it as well. I laughed. Come on, said, and we headed toward the booth. I wasn t sure about him, but even as I made the walk over there, I still kind of w ished I was back in bed. It went okay, actually. They were nice, and I enjoyed meeting new people. It was far too soon to tell if we would actually be friends and honestly, we probably wo uldn t be. Unless there s a good connection there, it takes much more than a few hou rs together to seal a friendship. But at the very least, there were a few more f amiliar faces for me. Lucas and I planned to go to the next meeting together, to o. But for the rest of today, my plans weren t quite as social. I d bought take-out fro m the Italian place across the street and planned to watch my favorite episodes of The Office in ascending order (I decided I d start with The Client). As an adde d bonus, I arrived to find that Molly wasn t there. So then things got really wild and I took off my pants. Until I remembered that I was on my period and I d rathe r not let the fragrant smell of periodness fill the room (I ve decided the smell i s a cross between vaginas and metal). So I took it down a notch and put on sweat pants instead. Still, though. Wild. The next two weeks passed by in a blur of reading and paper-writing. A delicate calm had settled in all my classes. The workload was suspiciously lighter as the professors began to wrap up the entire course for the semester. I knew, however , that once classes officially end, the calm lifts and the mad frenzy of finals begins. I tried to prepare for that frenzy, but I was behind in some of my class es as it was, so it was more like catching up than getting ahead. A brochure had arrived in every mailbox in the dorm, saying it wasn t too late to sign up for summer school. For the first time I began to seriously consider it. The thought of living here in the summer too, when all I wanted was to go home, seemed stifling. But at the same time, I could certainly use the extra time to i mprove my GPA, after having mono last semester and then taking way more than I c ould handle this time in an ironic attempt to make up for the previous semester. I was still thinking about it, but I had planted the idea in my mother s mind, ju st in case. She wasn t opposed, but she did hint that I shouldn t strive for perfect ion because B s are okay too. I certainly didn t enlighten her about the far more dire state of my grades. Lucas and I had become better friends. After our weekly Amnesty International m eetings we hung out or had dinner together. We d also taken to watching How I Met he

Your Mother on his laptop in his dorm sometimes after he found out I d never seen it , he showed me an episode and now we re going through the whole series. We re halfwa y through the first season and I m ready to bow down to the altar of Neil Patrick Harris. So I was doing okay. I was learning to get along without them. And yet, at night before I fell asleep, I lay in bed and found my thoughts returning to that forb idden place Joe. Kevin, too, but at least we left things in a way that made sense he was mad at me; I was mad at him. ( Was being the operative word. I had gotten over it, the way he brought up that meaningless incident in his car for no reason ot her than to fuck up things with Joe and me. But I d stopped caring. He hadn t exactl y told a lie. And above all else, I just missed his friendship.) The Kevin situa tion, then, was easy to understand. Joe, however, left me feeling confused. He tells me he loves me... and then he l eaves while I m sleeping. He says he wouldn t break up with me and then he doesn t cal l me for two weeks (and counting). I suppose it s a two-way street and that I coul d have called him, but it wouldn t feel right. He was the one with all these (stup id) feelings to work through, and I think we needed that time apart so he could do that. It was torture at first, but I m doing okay. And if he works them out and decides he doesn t want to see me again, I think I d still be okay. But until then, I m not going to be waiting by the phone. I m going to be doing really cool things like watching The Office with no pants on, or Googling Neil Patrick Harris. All things considered, I was doing pretty well. And then Nick called me. My first clue that something was different was that, though my phone didn t recogn ize the phone number, it looked familiar--at least, I had seen that area code be fore. It was from somewhere close by... I answered the phone, intrigued yet glad for the excuse to put down my Poli Sci study guide. Hello? Karen? Yes... It s Nick. Oh, I said awkwardly, not bothering to mask my confusion. Panicking at the resulti ng pause, I hurried to fill it. What do you want? I d meant to say it in a friendly, helpful way, like, What can I do for you?, but I think it may have come off as more demanding than helpful. Oh well. Nick, however, was unfazed. I want you to come to my grandmother s funeral. The voice was male, and familiar.

I paused, shocked. Your grandmother? She... I remembered Kevin saying she was in t he hospital that night we were both sad and ended up drinking and chasing regret s, but since then I hadn t heard--hadn t thought... Nick, I m so sorry, Me too, I said. It was all I could think of to say.

Nick said quietly.

For a moment we were both silent. I thought of Grandma Jonas and how incredibly cool she was. This was the last thing the Jonases needed. Nick, I began,

I couldn t go. It s private, it s for family, and it s really not my place.

She requested a keg.

The thing I ve learned about Nick is that he doesn t seem to give a shit about socie tal norms. He could have started off the conversation with small talk, but no, h e dives right in to give me the shocking news. He rarely transitions; he just ab ruptly says something that makes no sense within the context of the conversation until he explains it. It s like he s always one step ahead, carrying you along thro ugh the conversation he crafts like you re a dead weight. A keg? I managed.

She planned the funeral in her will. She called it a celebration of life. Even in death, Grandma Jonas still managed to be cooler than I am. Wow. There was a silence again, so I tried to explain myself. It s not that I don t wan t to pay my respects, but I don t think it s appropriate for me to go. What if I told you that you were in the will? I--I m in the will? Of course you re not in the will. She met you like once. Uh--yeah. I had gone from confusion, to being elated that Grandma Jonas considered me important enough to inherit her diamond vibrator or whatever kinky thing it was that she may have left me, to disappointment at coming back down to earth. Would you have gone if she had put you in the will? im, playful and serious sound the same. Yes, I admitted. I couldn t tell Nick s tone. For h

Are you really that shallow? I sighed. Loudly. I m kidding, he said. But look, remember when I said I d make sure you, Joe and Kevin would make up, or at least try? This is the way. But... why now? Why intrude on a private moment when I could do it later? For one, he said, it s not as private less trashing. I hope. Even if it were, l be within the bounds of reason for you r a right time to talk them, it would be o be in a more of a reconciliatory mood. The vocabulary this kid has... You mean I should take advantage of them because they re sad? He laughed, a little. Yeah, sort of. I just mean that... when stuff like this hap pens, you realize what s important. That s all I m saying. I grew quiet, silenced by his honesty. You ll come? Yeah. Good It s at our house, Saturday at eleven. Don t wear black. Bring Cheetos. Okay. as you think it is. Think house party, but with you re a friend of the family, so it d stil to come. And second... if there was eve now. After what s happened, they re going t

Chee-Puffs. I hate the original kind. Wh-Bye. Cheetos?

My Saturday morning was interesting. I set my alarm for nine so I would have eno ugh time to stand in front of my closet and stare in confusion--and stare I did. What does one wear to a hybrid funeral/house party? Black was the only color th at would make me feel safe, but I had the feeling Grandma Jonas had requested th at no one wear black at her celebration of life, and that if they did, she d have a clause instructing them to do a keg stand or something. I settled on a dark green dress--not black but still a little somber. It wasn t pa rticularly formal--honestly, I m pretty sure I bought it at Forever 21 for like $1 5--but with heels, a pair of classy earrings and a necklace, I chose to dress it up. If it turned out I showed up looking too formal, I could probably dress dow n the outfit too, with like beer stains. (For someone who doesn t like beer and has no interest in drinking, I m oddly fixate d on this keg.) As for the Cheetos, I walked to the Walgreen s a few streets down and bought a bag of Cheetos Puffs. I was given a choice between straight ones or the ones in a s piral sort of shape. I figured if Nick wanted the spiraled ones he would have re quested them. I wouldn t put it past him to reject them solely on that basis. In the taxi on the way over I thought about Kevin and Joe. I realized that, desp ite my protests, I did want to come today. I was afraid to, and I still feared I might be intruding, but at the same time I hoped I wouldn t be. I wanted to be th ere for them--to show that I still cared, even if they didn t. My heartbeat raced as the car turned the corner onto the Jonas street. A number o f cars were parked outside their house, giving the impression that something lik e a party or a barbecue was going on. Well, there is a keg... After paying the fare, my bag of Cheetos (Puffs) and I stepped out of the car. I d tried to call attention away from the bag by keeping it in the Walgreen s shoppin g bag, but you could still see the top of the Cheetos (Puffs) bag poking out. Upon reaching the doorstep and ringing the bell,I braced myself, wondering who w ould answer the door and whether they knew I was coming. I could hear voices fro m the inside. The door swung open and I found myself face to face with Kevin. For a moment he stared wide-eyed at me, and then--and this gave me hope--he smiled. At least, a little bit. And it might have been (and probably was) a forced smile out of poli teness, but I didn t care. Behind Kevin, I saw Nick in the background, talking to someone, but at that mome nt he noticed me at the door.

What are you doing here? Really, Nick?

Kevin asked, genuinely confused.

Before I could say anything, Nick had made his way over. Hey, he greeted me. Cool, you brought them. And, grabbing the bag out of my hand, he opened it right then and there, and put a Cheeto (Puff) in his mouth. I invited her, he explained to Kevin, still chewing. Uh--yeah. Kevin quickly regained his composure, stepping aside and telling me, in. Stepping inside, I took off my shoes and lined them up with the various other pa irs. Judging by the many pairs of shoes there, it was a pretty good turnout. How are you? I asked, addressing the both of them. Come

Kevin shrugged. Not great, but... okay, I guess. Still eating, though his stare fi xated on something beyond the wall behind me, Nick nodded, as though Kevin had a ccurately summed up how he felt as well. I m really sorry, I said quietly. Nick nodded, while Kevin looked somewhat dazed. I was just with my mom, I have to... Kevin cleared his throat and cocked his head back toward the kitchen, where I surmised he was before answering the door. Yeah, I was quick to agree. Go ahead.

Kevin nodded, then moved past me to head for the kitchen. As he did, though, he looked at me. I can t quite describe the look, nor could I interpret it with any c onfidence. I felt a little scrutinized, but not necessarily in a bad way. And that left Nick, munching away on his bag of Cheetos (Puffs). He shrugged at me, like he was saying, That s a start, and then walked off. Cool. I took the opportunity to look around the room a bit. Many people were standing around a table where various platters of food were displayed; others stood, or s at on the couch, talking to each other. I noticed that I was dressed rather appr opriately for the occasion--others too had gotten the message about not wearing black and instead were dressed somewhere between casual and formal in varied sha des, some darker than others. Of course I found myself gravitating toward the table of food, which offered a s election ranging from store-bought platters of appetizers to chips and sodas. I sampled some crackers and hummus, and then, for some reason, looked up. Joe was upstairs, just emerging from the bathroom. I was right in his line of vision; he stopped when he saw me, eyes wide and hair disheveled. For a lingering moment w e locked eyes. I noticed he was wearing a suit and tie, though the tie was loose ned and hung limply on his neck. Karen. Kevin emerged from the kitchen holding a dish towel. in here? Do you want to come help me

I looked back at Joe. I wouldn t have been surprised if he were gone, but he was s till there, still looking at me intensely. Yeah, I said, still looking at him. I broke the eye contact to shift my gaze to Ke vin. Okay, Kevin said, nodding. He gave me a questioning look and I knew he wondered wh at I had been staring at and why I took so long to answer him, but he didn t inqui re. Cool. I smiled at him, a little, and followed him into the kitchen. The sink was piled with dishes, and the table was littered with both unopened appetizer trays and plastic lids from the trays that had already been opened and put in the living r oom. I saw crumpled napkins, plastic bags, and everything from an opened, half-f ull bag of bread to a jar of peanut butter with the lid still off sitting on the counter. What do you need help with? I asked.

Kevin scratched his head and looked around himself. You could do dishes, or take out the trash, or clear the counter. Anything would help. I could do dishes, I offered. I don t mind doing dishes, though other people s dishes are a bit different, especially if you don t know what they ve been eating--because then, as you re wiping food off a plate, you wonder, is that leftover meatloaf or a piece of pie that s been sitting there so long it s decomposed and turned into a p ile of filth? Awesome. He smiled, surprised. Any time. I ve been avoiding the dishes, so... thanks.

I smiled back.

We then had a few awkward seconds of silence. I was saddened by it--had we reall y regressed so much that we didn t know how to interact anymore? Were we now just strangers who knew each other very well? I m gonna go take out the garbage, he said, motioning to a large garbage bag sitting in the corner. I ll be right back. Okay. I turned my attention to the dishes. None of them looked too bad, though the re was a bowl half-full of what seemed to be pasta or ravioli that frightened me . I buried it under a plate. Out of sight, out of mind. I d done a couple dishes when Kevin returned from the garage. What are you doing? I shut off the water and turned around. Did we not just go over this? What

Laughing at my confusion, Kevin walked over to me and opened the dishwasher. do you think this is for?

I looked from the dishwasher back to him. Oh. Well, I knew what it was--stop look ing at me like that, I said, flicking soapy water in his face with my wet hands. As he wrinkled his nose and wiped his face with his hand, trying to disguise his smile, I continued, But in my house, we have a dishwasher but we only use it to store dishes. We wash everything by hand. Kevin frowned in confusion. I shrugged. Why?

My mom doesn t like when we let dishes pile up. So if we wash them inst

antly by hand, the sink s always clean. Well that s sad. Thanks. Kevin laughed again. n as you use them! I glared at him. It is! You poor children, being forced to wash dishes as soo

I don t want your sympathy.

Grinning, Kevin said, Do you need me to teach you how to use the dishwasher? Even though you grew up with one in your house? Still looking at him in mock-resentment, I said darkly, Yes.

He laughed again, and I couldn t help but smile as he went through a pedantic, int entionally condescending instructive description of how to use the dishwasher. By the end of it, even though my back was to him as I loaded dishes, and he was clearing off the counter, I felt closer to him. Like maybe we weren t strangers af ter all. So is there really a keg? He gave a small chuckle. Yeah. My mom didn t want to, but she got one... and then c overed it with a tablecloth and is using it an an end table. Lining two plates next to each other in the dishwasher, I laughed. Yeah. She s not thrilled with any of this. I focused on rinsing out the ravioli/spaghetti bowl of terror when I asked, is she now? She s in the backyard smoking. I turned to face him. She smokes? Kevin shrugged. She used to. Where Oh.

This surprised me. Somehow, even after all I d seen of the Jonases and their perfe ct life, it still always surprised me to learn something imperfect about them. Wow, I remarked.

He shrugged again and turned his attention to the bag of bread. As he twisted th e wrapper around itself, he cleared his throat. I braced myself for the seriousn ess I knew was coming. I feel like we should talk about... well, you know... Part of me thought Here we go, but the other part was pleased that some sort of resolution--closure--was going to come. I nodded and picked up a plate, putting it in the dishwasher. Okay. Smiling self-consciously, he set down the bread and admitted, I don t even know whe re to begin... I m sorry, I said. That s a start.

Yeah, he was quick to say,

of course. I m sorry.

Realizing what he thought I meant, I said, No, I didn t mean you should say you re so rry--though, well, that s not to say you shouldn t apologize--but, just, I was apolo gizing. To you. Oh, he said, laughing a little, likely out of sheer awkwardness. Well, I am sorry. I shouldn t have brought up the thing we did, because I did just do it because I w as mad. We were both standing across from each other, him leaning against the counter an d me leaning against the kitchen sink. I toyed with the edge of the open dishwas her next to me and asked, Why were you mad? He shrugged. I felt lied to. I have never lied to you, omplete seriousness. he said, looking at me in c

That s bullshit. He raised his eyebrows. I smiled and continued: Well, it is. You wer e just mad that I didn t tell you everything, like I ve always done. When really, I was just taking a page out of your book and not saying anything at all. Nodding in consideration, Kevin said, I guess you have a point. But also... the o ne thing I asked was that you not tell anyone. And you told him. And I don t regret it. I surprised even myself with that. I didn t tell him any details about why we had a fake relationship, and I didn t tell him about Eva. I said wha t I had to so he knew I wasn t cheating on you. Seeing Kevin s face suddenly grow dis tracted, I quickly added, And he refused to be that guy, even when he thought you were cheating on me with Eva. He wouldn t-He did kiss you, though. Before he knew. So you guys talked about it, I realized. Kevin nodded. You re talking, then? I asked.

Not at first, he said. But with the family counseling, and realizing how he felt at the time... I m understanding it now. Plus, like... even if he had done the worst possible thing he could ever do to me... I couldn t shut him out. Especially now, after... I nodded. I m glad you two are working it out. He gave me a small smile, then hesitated before asking, Are you two? When I gave h im a look, Kevin added, He doesn t tell me anything about you guys. Shrugging, I had to admit, I don t know. I ve seen him once since... the fight...sss, I added, realizing that given the number of arguments that went down that night, fight needed to be pluralized... a lot. But... nothing really got resolved. He j ust... Feeling my eyes start to water, I swallowed and stopped talking. I don t know , I said again. I could feel Kevin studying me. about it, but... I m sorry I haven t called you since then. I thought

It s okay. You were busy, things happen... and I could have called you. But... Pausi ng, I searched for the right words to voice something I d recently given a lot of thought to. You were my best friend. That should mean something. What I d said hadn t exactly made sense, but he seemed to understand what I meant. know. I ve missed talking to you. And eating with you, he added with a grin. I

Me too,

I said, smiling. he asked.

Am I still your best friend?

I gave him a scrutinizing look, raising an eyebrow as though I was taking it int o consideration. Kevin smiled in such a comical, desperately hopeful way that I dropped the act and grinned. Yes. Am I still yours? Eh. Do my dishes and we ll talk. I flicked more dishwater at him.

For nearly the entire duration of the hybrid funeral/house party, Kevin and I cl eaned the kitchen. I finished doing the dishes (though I feel like that s not the right term. There was no scrubbing furiously with a sponge until everything was sparkling clean--I just loaded them into a dishwasher, added soap, and pressed a button. That s not doing dishes), Kevin cleared off the counter, and together we cleaned the table and even swept the floor clean. His mother came in for a bit, and it made me happy to see her reaction to the cl ean kitchen. I thought she might treat me with coldness, as undoubtedly she must have known that Kevin and I weren t dating and Joe and I were (...or had been?), but she treated me with the same kindness she always had. After she told Kevin and I to go enjoy the party--I mean--well, whatever it is, as she put it, Kevin and I went to his room. On the way I noticed that the door to Joe s room was shut--had he been in there the whole time? Once in Kevin s room, I sat on the bed and took a look around, observing with sati sfaction that it didn t look much different from the last time I had seen it. I di d notice what looked like a crumpled suit in the corner. What s with the suit? I asked. From the chair at his desk he d turned around to face me, Kevin looked over at the clothes. Oh. We went to the cemetery this morning. That was sort of... the real funeral. Or, at least, the normal one, he said with a forced chuckle. She made it very clear that she didn t want any ceremony in a church, no viewing of... her corp se, as she put it. So the cemetery thing was all we could really do. Oh, I said. How was that? he replied quietly. I wished there was something else, something more, I could say. I m doing okay. And then, as if realizing somet

Awful,

I m sorry.

Giving me a small smile, Kevin said, hing, he turned to me. How are you? I looked at him in suspicion. What?

I just realized I haven t asked you that today. For good reason! It s all about you today. It s not like it s my birthday... I guess.

So,

he said,

how are you?

I thought about it. Better, now that we re friends again. Um... I ve kind of thrown m yself into school, but I m still doing terribly. Finals are coming up, so that ll be fun. And... I m going to stay here for the summer. It was the first time I d said it aloud. I d kept it as an option in the back of my mind, giving it some quiet thou ght, but I hadn t realized I d come to a decision, strange as that may sound. He smiled. So I ll see you this summer, then? Nodding slowly, I said, Yeah. And I smiled. Suddenly the prospect of spending part of the summer here didn t seem so lonely. Cool, he said appreciatively. Yeah. He yawned just then, covering his mouth halfway through. Sorry, he said. I ve been up since like six. I m so tired. Checking his watch, he said, Thank God the people sho uld be leaving soon. Taking that as a hint, I quickly stammered, Oh... um... I should probably--

Hey, you don t count. You know you can stay here and hang out. I d feel weird, I said at last. It was certainly an ego-boost to know I was welcome, but I would have felt weird staying while the Jonases were all grieve-y and bro ken. Well, he said, searching for another idea, At three o clock? He shrugged. I m hungry. It s dinnertime somewhere. Okay. do you want to have dinner?

That had me smiling.

Yeah? He looked genuinely happy, at least right then in that moment. I m going to go see how my mom s doing first, though, he said, standing up. I ll be back. I nodded. Sure, I said, and was left in his empty room. I was certainly glad we we re going to have dinner tonight, but I also had a strong desire to not leave thi s house until I talked to Joe. It would be silly not to. I would have liked to say I stood up right then and marched into his room, but t he truth is I continued to sit there for a few minutes, thinking about what I wo uld say and whether he would even be in a mood to talk. What if he was sleeping? Finally I decided I d find out when I got there. With a hardened resolve, I stood up and exited Kevin s room. I walked the few feet to Joe s door, though those few fe et seemed a lot farther away to me. Standing there at his door, I knocked. I heard him say, Come in. And so I did. Joe was sitting in the middle of his room, leaning against his bed and reading a magazine. He looked up, then did a double-take when he saw me. Close-up, he was even more of a mess. His eyes were tinged with red, as though h e hadn t slept in a while. Parts of his hair were sticking up. Even his suit, the

one thing that made him look distinguished, was rumpled. Hi, I said quietly. There were so many feelings, words, phrases running through my mind, and yet I had to start with the simplest. Judging by the pause he took before speaking, he felt the same. He opened his mo uth, closed it, opened it again. Hi. He smiled a little. I smiled back, a little. Can we talk? Yeah. Go ahead, come in. Quietly shutting the door behind us,I took a seat next to him on the floor. I sat against his bed as well, stretching my legs out and cro ssing them at my ankles. How are you? I asked quietly.

He shrugged. Not great. He looked back at me and seemed to take encouragement in t he fact that I still had my I m listening face on, as he took that as a sign to co ntinue. I don t think... I don t think she knew what this would do to us. I mean, eve rything in her will was just so... playful... like it s not this serious situation that it is. Like... she wanted a keg. Yeah, I said. Was that weird?

Looking down at the his tie, the end of which he held in his hands, Joe shrugged . Yeah. My mom didn t want to get one. She was arguing about it with her sister. I don t know how that turned out. I ve been hiding out in here a lot. Maybe, I offered tentatively, she was trying to do all of that to remind you that.. . it s okay to have fun, even now. Or at least try to. He cocked his head, acknowledging my point, but said gravely, It s not right. We ha d part one of the funeral this morning, at the cemetery--it wasn t in the will, bu t... how could we not? And just... to go from that, from being dressed up, stand ing in a graveyard watching a casket get lowered, to this... this house party sh it, or whatever the hell it is... it s not right. I understand, I said quietly. I wanted to be down there, but... I couldn t. After the funeral I had every intenti on to come up here, change, and go back downstairs. But I couldn t. I didn t want to be around people. Sucks to be you, I murmured sympathetically.

Bursting into laughter, Joe looked at me. What? I feel like there aren t a lot of sympathetic things to say! You probably get sick of I m sorry after a while, don t you? I guess so, but jeez. Still though, I d gotten a laugh out of him. That made me very happy. Taking advantage of the broken ice, I took a deep breath. There s something I have to say. Joe looked at me, and I could tell he knew what sort of discussion I was about g o begin.

It doesn t feel like you re my boyfriend, I began. You can t keep leaving me. You have... this pattern of leaving, and then there s no contact, and then you come back and do it all over again. And that s not okay. That s not a relationship, that s... a libr ary. I paused. Well, without the books. But, like, I m the librarian, and... never m ind. I sighed. Maybe that s how you end it with your other girlfriends, I don t know, but you can t keep doing this to me. I don t like the way it makes me feel and I don t want to go through it again. I get that you re going through a lot, I do. But I t hink the answer is not to force you to be a better boyfriend, but... to wait unt il you can be. I m not saying I ll sit around and wait for you, but I m not exactly go ing to have an easy time getting over you, either. So... to make it official I ll say I m breaking up with you, but honestly, I feel like we were never really toget her. To combat the harshness of what I'd just said, I added, And it goes without s aying that I ll be there for you. I ve missed you--and your e-mails--a lot. More tha n I care to admit, I finished quietly. The entire time I was talking, Joe had been silently listening, nodding a few ti mes and looking perplexed in others. I am so sorry... about all of it, he said at last. There s no excuse for how I handle d this. I know that. I tried to make myself get over everything because I just w anted things to be like they were again, but I realized when I do that then I go and do--and say--asshole things. And I just... Don t feel bad now. I m just saying, until you re ready--if you re ever ready, and if you r e not that s cool too--I m done. I don t want to be your librarian anymore. That metaphor barely makes sense, but I m letting it slide. As you should. I moved closer to Joe and rested my head on his shoulder. I ve earned the right to do that much. He rested his head on mine and we sat in silence for a bit. I ll make it up to you, he said.

I m not asking you to do that. I just want you to deal with yourself, and figure ou t what you want. I know. I closed my eyes. It was nice, being so close to him. We sat like that for a few minutes. At last, knowing Kevin was probably waiting for me by then, I sat up. I have to go. Okay, he said. I turned toward him. I wanted to kiss him, more than anything, but knew it would go against everything I had just said. My gaze settled on the loosened tie arou nd his neck. Loosening the knot even further, I slipped the tie around his neck and set it on his bed. That s a start, I said. He smiled. Thank you. I smiled back, then stood up and headed for the door. Karen? I stopped, turned around. What?

You were right. I do leave when things get hard. And that is how I ve broken up wit h my girlfriends , which I m not proud of. But... well, there s a difference. Becaus e the thing is... with you, I always come back. I stood there looking at him. I probably could have stood there all day, process ing that statement, but I wanted to make a somewhat graceful exit, so I just nod ded and walked out the door. Kevin was downstairs waiting in the living room, which was now empty. He was sta ring, not at me, but at something in the living room. As I went downstairs, I re alized he was looking at what appeared to be a small end table covered in a red tablecloth--but what was likely to actually be a well-disguised keg. What are you doing? I asked.

Kevin looked at me, then back at the keg-table. I was just thinking... this isn t w hat she would have wanted. She wanted us to have a good time, but all we ve really done is mope around about how inappropriate this is. I m tapping into the keg, he said decisively, putting down his jacket. He knelt down before the keg-table and threw off the tablecloth, revealing a silver keg in all its glory. I ve never seen a keg in real life before, I said for no apparent reason.

Shaking his head as he reached for a tube thing sitting next to the keg, Kevin r emarked, Your life is so sad. I laughed. I watched in amazement as Kevin connected the tubey pump thing to the keg. When it appeared to be connected, Kevin disappeared into the kitchen. He r eturned holding two cups I know you don t like beer, he murmured as he filled one cup only partway. He handed me the cup, then stood up with his own. To Grandma, he said, raising a toast. I clinked my cup against his and solemnly said, To Grandma Jonas. Kevin smiled upo n hearing the nickname and we drank our beer. I finished the cup, though by the end my nose was wrinkled in disgust. What are you doing? We turned around to see Nick. A toast the way Grandma would have wanted it. Come on. He knelt down and refilled his cup, then handed it to Nick, who then stared into the cup as he held it. Cool, he said in his usual stoic fashion. And-- Kevin took my cup and refilled it as well---give this to Joe.

Nick smiled a little, nodded, and then walked off with his beers. Appreciatively I watched him go, knowing none of today would have happened had it not been for him. Turning to me, Kevin asked, I smiled and nodded. Yeah. Are you ready to go?

Kevin smiled back, and we headed out the door. I was pleased to see his car--it was so familiar, and it looked and smelled just the same, as though this friendship hiatus had never even happened. I missed thi

s,

I said approvingly.

Backing out of the driveway, Kevin asked, Missed what? All of it. The car, and eating with you. He nodded. Did you miss pretending to be my girlfriend? I m not... I m no

God, no, I said, making him laugh. Suddenly something occurred to me. t still doing that, am I?

No, he said, shaking his head emphatically. I told you, I m done with Eva. Pursuing s omeone sounds romantic and all, but what s the point if they don t love you enough t o let themselves be pursued? I nodded, filled with sympathy. He smiled. So you want to be the pursue-ee now?

Yes. I want to be wooed.

Considering your vast fan base, I m sure you ll be wooed on a daily basis. That s just what I like to hear. We drove the rest of the way without saying much. I don t know what was going thro ugh his mind, but I was basking in how nice it was to be doing this again. It wa s the way it should be. I noticed he didn t even ask where we should go. While at first I wondered where he could be taking me, I then realized when I saw him tak e a familiar exit that he was going to that familiar set of restaurants across t he street from my dorm. My suspicions were confirmed when he parked just down the street from it. What do you feel like? he asked as we got out of the car. Chinese. You? Huh, he said. I don t think I ve been to the Chinese restaurant here.

Eating Chinese food with another person is way more fun that eating it by yourse lf. With someone else, you can get multiple dishes and not look gluttonous becau se it s all under the guise of sharing. But with just myself, I always end up just getting one dish and rice, both because it s cheaper and I d feel lame eating sever al dishes alone. But with Kevin... It s amazing, I said casually. He filled the meter and we began the walk down to the outdoor food court. What do they have? I shrugged. Amazing things.

You re no help. Neither was he at taking a hint. I decided to go for the unsubtler approach: on. You want Chinese food. Okay, he said. And then, as if the idea only just occurred to him: he thing where we get lots of dishes and then share? You re a genius. Come

Ooh, can we do t

Thank you. Once at the store, we bought more dishes than I can remember. There was no line since it was such an awkward time--too early for dinner, too late for lunch--so we essentially had the store to ourselves. I wasn t sure whether that was a good o r a bad thing, given how it meant that the servers had nothing to do but watch u s as we spread out all our food on our table before going to town on it. So your family s doing okay? I asked.

Using chopsticks to fish a piece of beef from the broccoli and beef container (a lso, that bastard. I d forgotten about his hatred of vegetables. I made a mental n ote to try to secure some beef for myself before he ate it all), Kevin said, Yeah . We re not perfect, especially now, but we re doing... okay. I nodded. Hey, what about Nick s pregnant girlfriend? He chuckled. Oh yeah--Lauren. We all met her, actually. She s really nice. I have n o idea what s going to happen with all of that, but Nick s still with her. And she s s till pregnant. Cool, I said, nodding again. I casually reached for the beef and broccoli, ate som e, and set it down close to me. So... did anything get resolved between you and Joe today? It felt weird to talk about my once-secret (non?)-relationship with Joe to Kevin , but I answered him truthfully. Sort of, and also sort of not. I don t know. The b all s back in his court. Though it feels like we ve been tossing the ball back and f orth so many times that I m pretty sure we must have played several games. And I m n ot sure who s winning. Kevin reached for the beef and broccoli container (curses!) and commented, whatever you mean, it certainly sounds deep. I laughed. n. Well,

Thanks. I guess my brain s deciding to decompose before finals even begi he asked as he poked his chopsticks around in the beef and brocco

When are finals? li container.

Realizing he wasn t going to give up the beef anytime soon, I found solace in oran ge chicken. T minus two weeks, I said. How are you feeling ab-Terrified. He laughed. I see. Well, if you ever want to come over and study...

I nodded thoughtfully, considering his offer. I actually might take you up on tha t. During finals, things get crazy. The library s always packed unless you get the re at like 8 a.m. That does sound terrifying, . Thanks. Kevin said, and then laughed a little. I m glad I m not you

He smiled and fished out what I assumed to be the last piece of beef. Any time. After we said goodbye and I headed back to my dorm carrying the containers of le ftover Chinese food Kevin had chivalrously (and philanthropically) given me, I f elt good about the day. It was long, and emotionally-draining, but it needed to happen. I felt like setting up a shrine to both Grandma Jonas and Nick, but deci ded it would seem creepy. What pleased me even more was that, after I changed out of my dress and into paj ama pants, when I checked my e-mail I found an e-mail from Joe. It was short, an d mentioned nothing of the afternoon or any of the drama we shared. It just told me about his evening and that he was excited one of his favorite movies made th e Instant Play section of Netflix, because he was going to watch it that night. It reminded me of the first few e-mails we exchanged, before we figured out that something was going on between us, back when all we knew was that we enjoyed th e other s company. It was nice. I studied for a bit, and then replied with an anecdote about my own Netflix Inst ant Play adventures. (I m quite certain that to outsiders our e-mails would be see n as terribly boring.) And then I watched The Office. It was, in my opinion, the perfect end to such a strange and kind of nice day. I texted Nick Thank you, because it had to be said. How did he respond? Thanks for the Cheetos. How s it going? I looked up from my laptop to see Lucas enter the room, hair wet. I shrugged. Oka y. How was the shower? Taking his seat across from me, where his books and notebooks were spread out ac ross the table as though he had never left, Lucas said, Long overdue. I laughed. Well, now you re set for the next two days.

Lucas smiled. I couldn t think, though. The shower s where I do my best thinking, but with all this studying I barely shower now. I nodded empathetically. I personally do my best thinking on the toilet. ck on a thesis? So no lu

I am not gonna talk about my thesis. I ve got about twenty-eight hours until my pap er s due, right? That s plenty of time. Moving aside a pile of books, he slid an enor mous red book toward him. Time for Shakespeare. Muahahahaha, I said, giving my best evil laugh. The standard English final, Lucas had told me, involved a set of passage identifications as well as an essay or tw o. Usually, he said, it was fairly easy to determine the book from which the pas sage was taken because each author has his or her own style. But with a class de voted solely to William Shakespeare... As Lucas thumbed through the giant anthology, he looked up at me. We study for an hour, and then we watch a few episodes of How I Met Your Mother. Deal. That was what we had been doing for the past few days. We had completely taken o ver the study lounge on his floor. Around finals, it s hard to find a place to stu

dy. The libraries are packed unless you get there really early and don t mind stud ying for five hours straight without leaving to get food, because when you get u p, one of the many students roaming the floor looking for a seat will snatch it up and you re done for the day. It s often hard to find a place in the study lounge in our dorm building--you can eat in there, but when you get up to get food, ba m--someone has taken your place. But when there s someone who can occupy the table while you re gone... you never have to give up your spot. In fact, we had grown a ccustomed to leaving all of our stuff--books, laptops, notebooks--spread out acr oss the table we shared when one of us got up to get food or shower, because tha t person could guard theft as well. It was perfect. Lucas was always up and in h ere by nine, too, when the room was usually empty. While Lucas went through his giant book o Shakespeare, I hit refresh in my inbox.

And an e-mail appeared! I love when that happens. Eagerly I clicked on it to rea d Joe s latest e-mail: I can t believe you haven t showered in two days. You disgust me. I m pretty sure I ca n smell you from here. I don t know, I was like seven. I don t remember what I was thinking. I liked her an d I was probably like, Adults do it. She thought I gave her cooties after, though. That bitch. And your first kiss? We re working on a song now, which we haven t done recently, but I m excited. I should go back. Good luck studying! Also, I love you but please, for God s sake, take a fucking shower. I burst into laughter upon reading that last line. Lucas looked up at me. What? Oh, I said. Nothing.

Lucas playfully narrowed his eyes at me, as though trying to break me. Multiple t imes a day you open your laptop, check something, and then close it a few second s later, looking disappointed. And sometimes you re not disappointed. And sometime s you type stuff-- Raising an eyebrow in self-awareness, Lucas added, I m sorry, I m s ounding really creepy right now, aren t I? I laughed. Yes. Feeling like I should give some kind of explanation, I explained, t s nothing. I m just e-mailing my friend. Ten times a day? Only like five times. Right. That s way more normal. When I smiled, he asked, Who is it? I hesitated. He doesn t go here. I

Is it a certain Jonas brother? This was strange, him bringing up the name of the person I d, as far as Lucas was concerned, left him for. Now that we were friends, did that suddenly make it les s awkward to discuss this stuff?

It s not Kevin,

I stressed.

Lucas grew thoughtful. Whatever happened with you and Kevin? Like, really? I stared contemplatively at the wall behind him. The fake relationship arrangeme nt was over now, so there was no harm in me explaining. I wondered how he would take it--if he would understand. Do you really want to know? ead his emotional legs. Yes. It s a long story, Lucas shrugged. I stalled. Jeez, I sound like Joe when I m trying to get him to spr

I have all day.

So I told him. Everything from my deal with Kevin down to breaking up with Joe a t Grandma Jonas funeral. I was hesitant at first, but as Lucas listened to me, no dding along in some parts and asking questions in others, my uncertainty diminis hed as I told the story. So I got dumped for two Jonas brothers, Soon to be three, I joked nervously. Focusing his blue eyes on me, he inquired, hing with Kevin? Why didn t you tell me about your deal t he concluded.

I shrugged, searching for an answer. I... couldn t. I wasn t supposed to tell anyone. And even if I decided to tell you, I thought you d think it was weird, or that I was lying. I studied him, his expression. He didn t look angry, only thoughtful. He was basically my only friend, I added. My sister left, and... I needed him, more t han I needed you at the time. It sounded harsh but it was true. Fair enough, Lucas said. He glanced down at his big book o back up at me. Want to watch How I Met Your Mother now? I thought the plan was to be productive for an hour. I lied. Laughing, I said, You have a paper due tomorrow. I really don t think I should be e nabling you. Psh, I ve got like twenty-seven and a half hours. That s so much time. I smiled. That was all the permission Lucas needed, and he got up to go get his laptop from his room. I began clearing the table, stacking my papers and my study guides to make room for his laptop. I would probably associate this semester s round of finals with th is room, Lucas, How I Met Your Mother, and Joe s e-mails. It was a pretty decent w ay to spend finals. I realized then that I needed Lucas, too. Yes, Kevin was my best friend, but he didn t go here. I needed a friend here, who would make this wo rld of classes and finals a little better, not just let me escape into another w orld. I looked up when Lucas entered the room, balancing a container of trail mix on h is laptop (we found ourselves with a surplus of meal points as the semester woun Shakespeare, then looked

d down, and, desperate to use them before they expired, it became common to see students stocking up on random snacks from the student store. Lucas, I d found, di dn t go for the cookies and goldfish crackers like I did, but mostly bought trail mix, Clif bars, and Odwallas). That evening, Lucas and I watched six episodes in total. In between watching the m, I managed to define the key terms on my poli sci study guides. As for Lucas, I wasn t quite sure. He d flip through his notes and a couple boks, trying to get in spiration for his paper, and then he d sigh and turn back to Shakespeare, as thoug h trying to forget about his paper by drowning himself in another class. By two a.m., when Joe had e-mailed me good night, Lucas was finally getting some where. I watched him open his notebook and flip to a new page, then begin jottin g something down. Thesis? Without looking up or pausing from writing, he answered, Yes! I ve neer started a p aper this late before. But I m going to write about Emma. And Frankenstein. I blinked. n? He laughed. Of course. Why wouldn t you pair a Jane Austen novel with... Frankenstei It sounds crazy, but it s gonna be awesome. abilities.

I believed him. I had no doubts about Lucas

I decided to go to bed, with full intentions to check on Lucas progress in the mo rning--I had to be up at a decent hour to get some studying in before I had to h ave lunch with Kevin. Apparently it was a Friday. During finals, though, there are no days. Every day spent studying is a Sunday. The day you take the final is a Monday, and right as you turn that final in, all of a sudden, it s Friday and it s glorious. (Unfortunately this Friday is only temp orary if you ve still got finals to take. Often it will last a few hours as you ta ke a moment to bask in the glory of being finished with that class--until you re alize you d better study some more for your final the next day, and then it s Sunday all over again.) But tomorrow, perhaps, Kevin would pull me from my perpetual Sunday and remind m e what Fridays, actual Fridays, were like. It was nice to have that escape. Alth ough I d considered his offer of letting me come over to study at his house, I had n t taken him up on it. It would have been nice, but there was something real abou t holing up in the study lounge, being surrounded with crazed students as panick ed (and likely unwashed) as I was. Shit, if I was going to leave campus and associate with other, normal people, I d better take a damn shower.

Why do you look tired? I asked Kevin as we sat across from each other in a restaur ant that, surprisingly, was not across the street from my dorm. Those places wer e now swarmed by finals-infected students, which did not make a very good escape . Instead, we d gone to Taco Barn, of all places. We sat inside it this time, but we were no more dignified than we had been that first time we ate it in his car-the table was spread with food, from the burrito we each had before us to a com munal platter of nachos to an order of tacos we d decided to split. Taking a nacho, Kevin shrugged. I stayed up too late watching random YouTube vide

os. Oh. I remembered what it was like to spend an evening with YouTube. Well, that s nice . Personally, I m tired because I ve been studying for the past three days straight with very little sleep, but YouTube, that s great. Oh, sucks for you. I m not gonna apologize for having enough raw talent to render a college degree unnecessary. I laughed. Burn, I said, and when Kevin snapped his fingers I laughed again.

So that s all you do? Study? Taking a bite from my burrito, I nodded. Kevin waited until I finished chewing a nd could speak: Lucas and I alternate between studying and watching How I Met You r Mother. And also I e-mail Joe. Kevin smiled knowingly. What? I asked. Nothing, he replied, shrugging. But God, the number of times you two e-mail each ot her throughout the day... What? I suppose it was a little weird, but it had so quickly become a fixture in m y life that I didn t know what I would do without them. Joe checks his e-mail more often than I ve ever seen him do it. And yet... you re not together. I stiffened, slightly. Why not? I don t know if he s ready. That was as specific as I wanted to be. No.

Kevin nodded, then shrugged. Well, for what it s worth, I think he is. I nodded quietly, considering his words. I d given some thought to what would happ en if Joe ever became ready. I tried not to think about it, both because I didn t want to get my hopes up if it didn t happen and I didn t want to get myself into the mindset that I was waiting for him. Because I d made it clear that I wasn t going t o, and I didn t want to go back on that. So, whenever the thought of Joe and I being a Joe and I came to surface, I made sure to balance it out with something at the opposite end of the spectrum. I d smi le hard at the cute guy who works at the coffee shop (thus creeping him out and leading to me making the decision to forego coffee for a couple of days until I was shameless enough to return). Or listen to Taylor Swift s Forever and Always and feel some camaraderie. (A surprising amount of camaraderie. Joe wasn t kidding whe n he said he tends to leave people. I mean, the lyric One second it was perfect, now you re halfway out the door described us pretty well, too.) Just something to think about, Kevin said, bringing me out of my thoughts.

As if I hadn t been thinking about it all this time? He peered closely at me. You really like him, don t you? I opened my mouth, the words I love him on the tip of my tongue, but I got selfconscious and hesitated, my mouth still open as my eyes moved to meet his. He le aned forward a little, waiting, and I closed my mouth. Kevin smiled. I smiled ba ck.

From there our conversation continued as usual. When we finished, Kevin bought m e a burrito for me to take home. I grinned as he handed me the brown paper bag. When s your last final over? resides. he asked as he turned onto the street on which my dorm

Thursday the sixteenth, at 2:01 p.m., I replied wistfully. The car came to a stop in front of my dorm building. te after? Yes, I replied emphatically. Well, do you want to celebra

I don t know what we re doing yet, but it ll be awesome. And won t involve brain usage in any way whatsoever. Good, I laughed. I ll be here to pick you up at 2:01. 2:01. It would be nice to celebrate with someone. Lucas was going home that day be cause his finals finished the day before, and while I didn t mind celebrating alon e (or, in my case, with the cast of The Office on Netflix), company would be goo d too. Thanks for the burrito! I added, getting out of the car. Any time. I shut the car door, then peered into the window. I ll see you on the other side. God, you re dramatic.

Tomorrow was D-Day. I had taken my first final already. I felt good about it. Unfortunately, there w ere four left to take. Even more unfortunately, the three I felt most uncertain about all fell on the same day: tomorrow. I read that if you have three finals i n one day, the university would let you move one to another day. And yet I didn t do it. I could say it s because only pussies move finals around, but really it was laziness. Sheer laziness. I wasn t sure who I was supposed to talk to about it, a nd I had no intentions of looking it up or dedicating any time to something that wasn t studying. So, through some fault of my own (come on, the finals schedule makers should hav e some share in the blame, right?), tomorrow was D-Day. So why was Kevin calling me? What could he have to say that was so important as to interrupt my hardcore studying groove? But I couldn t say the break wasn t welcome. I took my phone, and, shooting Lucas a Phone call, yo glance, I took my vibrating phone (dirty?) into the hallway. Hello? Hey Karen. How are you? Studying. That didn t quite answer his question of how I was doing, but that was imp lied given the action. What s up?

Not much. Um... so listen, I can t hang out with you after your final. Oh. I tried to hide the disappointment from my voice. That s okay, I was quick to add.

Good. Can I see you the day after? Yeah. Sure. I paused, waiting for him to apologetically explain what he was doing that day, since he likes to be polite and make the other person feel like they w eren t being shafted for no reason. Plus he likes to talk, period. But there was j ust silence. Um, but I m leaving Saturday, so I have to spend part of Friday packin g up my crap. Oh. Well... maybe Thursday night?--oh, never mind. I can t do Thursday night either . Thursday s--okay, all of Thursday s out. Sorry, he said hastily. There was a pause, more awkward than it should have been. It s okay, I said slowly, narrowing my eyes in suspicion even though he couldn t see m e. I can do Friday. We can hang out, and then you can help me pack. It ll be wild. He laughed, a little. Cool. Same time? Okay. I ll see you Friday. See you Friday. And good luck with your finals! I chuckled. Thank you, Kevin. We said good-bye and hung up. I would be lying if I said I wasn t a little disappointed, but it really wasn t a bi g deal. I had plans for greasy curly fries and The Office on Netflix, and it was going to be amazing. Plus Rachel said she d call me after my last final, which ha d made me feel loved that she would remember. It felt good, to know I could be p erfectly content whether I was alone or with people. I returned to the study lounge to find Lucas ruffling frantically through his bo ok o Shakespeare. How the fuck am I supposed to remember all these characters? issed. Suppressing a smile, I shrugged and returned to my study guide. I think this is why Shakespeare named so many plays after people, he continued, wi de-eyed. It was the most stressed-out--and least perfect, since his blonde hair was disheveled and greasy because he hadn t showered in two days--I d ever seen him. So he could keep track of what characters were in what play! Macbeth, Coriolanus , Hamlet, Romeo and Juliet, King Lear, Othello, Julius Caesar, Antony and Cleopa tra... and don t even get me started on all those fucking Henry s. How the shit am I supposed to tell those apart? With the Henry s, it s basically the same fucking cha racters, just different plays, goddamn. This time I was not so successful in suppressing a smile. Or laughter. When my laughter (and his glowering) died down, I sighed in contentment. makes me feel better about my life. Lucas sighed. Good to know you re on my side. I am, I assured him. Yes, But... who s on the opposing side? Shakespeare? Shakespeare: I didn t mean Ah, this he h he added enthusiastically.

he replied vehemently. And then, quietly to his book o

that. I smiled. I returned to my study guides, remembering my D-Day crisis, and Lucas, having made up with Shakespeare, went back to flipping through the pages, but w ith a little more care this time.

My right hand now had a Band-Aid on its ring finger after way too much writing o n D-Day, and I was running on three hours of sleep. But... I was done. My final final (I loved saying that, both because of the repetition and the finality it i mplied--well, way more than implied. Screamed) had been anti-climactic, as it wa s for my easiest class, so I d finished earlier than expected but... I was done! For me, it was Friday! I stepped out of the building and welcomed the bright afternoon sun. Its warmth, which at any other time I would have found overbearing, was delightful on my fi nals-induced vitamin D-deprived skin. I texted Lucas, who quickly responded with an excitement that mirrored my own. A nd then I got my curly fries, went back to my dorm, and got my Office on. An add ed bonus was Molly s absence--her finals ended a few days ago, and she d since moved out and gone home. She hugged me good-bye, and gave me a DVD of Ferris Bueller s Day Off, which she d found while packing and was convinced belonged to me. It didn t , but sweet, free movie. Of course, it should go without saying that I e-mailed Joe upon returning to my dorm. I was happy to see that he d even sent me an extra e-mail while I was taking my final, which simply read, Good luck! I was on my second episode when my phone rang. And the ringtone--it was that wei rd-ass BB Goode song. Joe s ringtone. My heartbeat raced. I stared at the ringing phone, lit up and vibrating across m y desk as it blasted the weird, weird song that was BB Goode. I picked it up, answered breathlessly: Karen? Joe? Hi. Hi, I repeated slowly. ...What s up? I finished my final! Hello?

There was a pause.

I thought about what was up.

But you weren t supposed to finish it until two. Oh. Well, no congratulations for me, I guess. It was easier than expected. Oh. Then congratulations! Thank you. Um. Where are you?

My heartbeat did that racing thing again. Was he... here? My dorm. He sighed. Oh.

What s going on? I m on campus. I wanted to meet you outside the building you took your final in whe n you finished, but you had to go and finish early, I guess. You re... you re here? Is that okay? I was too stunned for words. It s... yeah, of course, it s... of course, I repeated st upidly. I expected him to mock me for my eloquence--it s what we do--but he didn t. "How did you know what building I was taking my final in, anyway?" "I'm creepier than I let on sometimes." I laughed. "Okay." I--can I come to your dorm... I mean, now? Right now? Yeah, come over. l. For once in the conversation I did a decent job at sounding casua

Great. I ll be over in a few minutes. After we hung up, I spent a good fifteen seconds staring at my phone in awe, joy , and shock. And then I realized Joe was coming over and I was wearing jean cutoffs, I wasn t wearing make-up, my legs were unshaven (shaving during finals? Plea se), and I looked pretty unwashed in general. I hurried to try to make myself presentable, but all I could do was pull my hair into a ponytail and apply another layer of deodorant. A change of clothes would be nice, but I hadn t done laundry in a while, so it was either this or track pan ts. As I walked the eerily empty halls--a reminder that nearly everyone save for mys elf and a few other unlucky individuals was finished with finals--I wondered wha t would happen. Was he just going to fall asleep on my bed and somehow break up with me even though we were already broken up? I wouldn t put it past him. Upon exiting the elevator, I saw Joe standing just outside the building. It wasn t until I opened the door to let him in that he noticed me. Hey, he greeted me, smiling warmly. He hugged me. Congratulations on not being a la me freshman anymore, he said, his mouth dangerously close to my ear. I could feel his warm breath on it when he spoke. Thanks. I tried to sound sarcastic, but I was too happy about feeling his arms aro und me to care. We ended the embrace, then he stood before me, looking at me. Hi. I smiled Hi.

He smiled back, even wider.

So... should we go to your room?

I nodded. Sure. Come on. He followed me as I stuck my key into the elevator s keyhol e. I was surprised to see that the elevator had gone unused, as it was still on the ground floor, but I suppose that was another sign of how empty the building had become. What s in the bag? I asked.

Joe followed my gaze down to the plastic bag he held. You ll see. I raised my eyebrows. Mysterious. I try. Our eyes met and we both smiled. The awkwardness left. Can I ask what you re doing?

The elevator came to a stop at my floor, and he motioned for me to get out first . So... he began as he followed me down the hall. I intended to meet you when you f inished your final, since you said in one of your e-mails you weren t doing anythi ng. We paused at my door, and I unlocked it. h. I did make plans with Kevin later, thoug

I know. And then I made him call you and cancel. I turned around, looking incredulously at Joe. No wonder that phone call was so w eird! You were right there next to him when he called me, weren t you? He shrugged innocently, closing the door behind him. to. I laughed. Right. Kevin fucks up a lot; I had

He smiled, then took a seat on my bed. I liked how natural it was for him to jus t sit on my bed, like he d been here enough that he was comfortable here. I sat ac ross from him, and he set the plastic bag between us. I brought you something. I see you wrapped it with care. Oh, shut up. I laughed and reached for the bag. It was cold, and I untied the knot to find a quart of ice cream. Beads of condensation were dripping down the sides. It was s oft, like it had been sitting out for a while. But, most importantly, it was cho colate marshmallow. Slowly I looked up at Joe, who was grinning. Wow, I said, then looked back at the container, studying it. It s not fake? You didn t get some graphics designer to make this? No, fuck you, it s legit. I laughed a little at how easily he could get so riled up about his precious ice cream. Did you bring spoons? Because it d be a little silly if you brought this an d then didn t--

He reached into the bag and showed me two plastic spoons. Oh. Good job. Our fingers touched as he handed me one. Of course. He watched as I peeled off the plastic wrapping on the lid, and then I took off the lid to reveal the nearly melted ice cream underneath. Before we began, though, I knew we needed to establish boundaries. I hate when I m sharing food with people and they either eat too fast or too slow, and then I f eel awkward about not getting my share / having to slow down my eating to make u p for their slow asses. Wait. I turned the container so that one end was facing him. From that marshmallow puddle thing onward, I said, using my spoon to point at something in the middle, i s your half. This half is mine. Deal? Joe looked from the ice cream to me. Do we have a deal or not? Failing to suppress his smile, he said, Yes, we have a deal. It s just ice cream. Shall we?

Good. And then we dug in. It was pretty good. The chocolate ice cream was smooth, light, and creamy, and the marshmallow swirls actually tasted like marshmallow. They lacked the texture of chewy marshmallows, but that was actually a good thin g. I had to agree that the inclusion of nuts would have ruined this smooth, velv ety ice cream. Huh, I said, bringing a spoonful to my mouth. ou, isn t it? Since it s all half-melted. This is the perfect consistency for y

Joe nodded, looking a little surprised that I remembered. Yeah. Less work for me. He ate another spoonful, then looked back to me. So you like it? I love it, I had to agree. It s still not my favorite, but it s definitely up there.

Good. And then, after eating a bit more he took a deep breath, and I knew somethin g was going to go down. So I didn t just come here to bring you ice cream. Oh? I asked casually (or in what I hoped was a casual manner). I didn t want to get too excited. Yeah. He left his spoon in the ice cream, then looked at me, really looked at me. o, I told you how my family s been seeing a counselor. And we have individual sess ions with him too. And we were talking about love, and he said you have to be ha ppy alone before you can be happy with someone else. Otherwise too much of your happiness is in their hands, so things would easily fall apart when something--a nything--goes wrong. And I wasn t happy before, and you were all I had, so of cour se--well, when shit went down, I took it harder than I should have, and blamed y ou more than I should have. And I m sorry for that. I thought that was his point, so I nodded and said, It s okay. And it was. S

But he continued: But now, with all this time apart, I ve realized... I can live wi thout you. Oh.

I mean, I wouldn t want to, he was quick to add, but I could live without you, if I h ad to. I mean, it sounds romantic when people say they can t live without someone, but they re either exaggerating or... really dissatisfied with their own lives. What are you saying? I asked quietly, surprised at how much anticipation I felt. I t wasn t like Joe to go on about something for this long without coming to a point . His eyes met mine. He took a breath, looked down, and then back at me. I m ready... to be your boyfriend, and for everything that goes with it. You can count on me now, and I promise I won t just walk out if something goes wrong. My eyes began to water, and he continued: So... will you go out with me? For real this time? I know my timing s terrible since you re going away for--what, a month, before you come back for summer school?-- I nodded-- but I can t wait that long. And the month apart will be okay. I m a pretty good e-mailer, he said with a soft, sma ll smile. I would love to, I said softly, unable to prevent myself from grinning ecstaticall y. Luckily, as soon as I said that, Joe grinned in the same way. Can I please kiss you now? orward. he asked, setting the ice cream on my desk and moving f

I didn t give him time to make the move--I kissed him, placing a hand on his shoul der while he moved his through my hair. We pulled back from the kiss to look at each other--and then we smiled, giggled, and kissed again. Upon realizing we wer e probably going to be kissing for a while, I put the ice cream into the freezer section of my mini-fridge, and we returned to kissing. We were horizontal this time, lying on my bed facing each other, though we changed positions a few times . When he got on top of me, it was a lovely feeling, to have him all around me, looking down at me in wonder like he couldn t believe any of this was happening. N either could I. After an hour of kissing, which still didn t feel like enough, I laid down next to him, laying my head on his chest and resting my arm across his stomach. His han d found mine, and our fingers intertwined on his stomach. I closed my eyes, bask ing in how good it felt to rest. Tired? he asked softly. I nodded without opening my eyes. Want to take a nap?

This time I looked up at him. Absolutely. As we got under the covers, I asked him, He shrugged. Are you tired?

Not really. But it doesn t matter either way.

I kissed him, then turned to face the wall. It made me happy to feel him spoon m e. You re not going to leave when I m asleep are you? I asked, half-joking. Never again, he murmured, kissing my ear.

And I believed him. So that s why Joe didn t come home last night, Kevin concluded. Here, me a role of clear packing tape so I could tape up a box. he added, passing

I couldn t help but grin. I d told this story once to Rachel, once to Lucas via text , four times to myself, and finally here I was telling it to the one person I mo

st wanted to tell. Yeah. After the nap we ate ice cream, ordered a pizza, and wat ched a movie on Netflix. He left this morning. It was a pretty wild night. Amazi ng is what it was. Napping with Joe in the afternoon had been nice, but falling asleep in his arms at night, waking up in the middle of the night and seeing him there, waking up with him and kissing him first thing in the morning--it was wo nderful. I taped up the box and pushed it to the as slowly piling up. Completed Boxes corner of my room, which w

Well, I m happy for both of you, he said sincerely. I returned to my spot on the floor and sat across from him as Kevin continued to pack my school supplies into the box in front of him. Well, none of this would h ave happened without you. I am quite a miracle worker, Thank you for helping me pack, he said modestly, making me laugh. I said.

No problem, he shrugged. You know, this is--how many mini-staplers do you need? he a sked incredulously, finding one in the pile of office supplies and putting it in the box. Four. Five if they come out with another color. He laughed. Anyway, as I was going to say, this is the first time I ve ever been in your dorm room. Huh. I thought about it. Joe had been here countless times, but Kevin hadn t been he re once. Then again, I enjoyed that Kevin took me from my dorm so I could get aw ay from college life. Joe, by contrast, had relied on me to take him away from h is home life. And? Kevin shrugged. Seeing how small it is makes me feel better about myself.

I nodded. Any time. So... Kevin taped up the box he had been working on and slid it toward the stack o f completed boxes. How was your first year, overall? I opened another box, which I d designated for the random assortment of bigger ite ms in my room--my desk lamp, my clock, and other things. I paused to think as I unplugged my power strip and set it in the box. Overall, it was good. But these p ast two semesters have been so different. The first was... lonely. I was homesic k a lot. This past semester has been... stressful as hell--I should not have tak en that many classes. I'm terrified to see what my grades will be, since right n ow I'm only confident that I've passed four of my six classes. And it s been full of drama, I said, and Kevin nodded knowingly. But... it s also been really, really a mazing. I m glad, Kevin said, smiling. Together we finished the last box, which included my bedding and pillow. Everyth ing had to be packed and taken to the storage place that day, so I would be with out bedding for the night. My plan had been to sleep on the mattress in pajamas, using a balled-up hoodie as a pillow, but upon hearing this Kevin protested and insisted I spend the night at his house. Ready to get these in the car and take them to storage? Kevin asked once we d taped

up the final box. I nodded. Yeah. As he took two boxes and headed down the hall, I picked up two as well, then looked around the nearly empty room that had been my home for the pas t year. It was strange, but I would actually miss it--even Molly, despite the fa ct that I d spent the better part of the year essentially avoiding her due to my o wn anti-social agenda. I smiled at that thought, at the room, and at the fact th at not twelve hours ago Joe and I were sleeping there in that bed. And at the th ought that maybe, in a month when I came back, we d sleep together again. I took my boxes and headed out the door to catch up with Kevin at the elevator.