Page 61 of All Our Almosts

“Then what was it like?” Lia pushes.

“It was just weird!” I reply in grave mischaracterization. The kiss wasn’t weird at all. Even just mentioning it now has my temperature rising—the memory of his body trapping mine, the firm press of his lips, the moans he pulled from me…

“So you didn’t like it,” Lia probes.

“That’s not what I said.”

“Okay, stop.” Lia takes hold of my shoulders and spins me until we’re face to face. “Look me in the eye and be honest. Did you want Andy to kiss you, yes or no?”

My eyes dart from left to right, making sure we’re totally alone before whispering, “If I tell you this, it goes with you to your grave. Do you understand?”

Lia makes a show of crossing herself piously, then brings her hands together in prayer. “I swear.”

“The problem is,” I start to explain, lowering my voice even further, “I really did want the kiss to happen. I mean, you know I’ve always kind of had a crush on him.”

“Excuse me!” Lia yells, completely breaking the facade of privacy. “Hold that fucking horse right there. No, I did not know that.”

“I told you he was cute the night I met him freshman year!”

“Okay sweetie, thinking a man at a party is cute and having an ongoing crush on your best friend are two very different things.”

“Did you forget that I literally tried to sleep with him that one time?”

“Honestly, I thought you were just drunk and horny, I didn’t realize it was a full-on Andy crush—oh my god!”

“Well, whatever,” I hiss. “Now you know. And these last couple of weeks, every time I’m around him I’m like… I don’t know. Just something about living with him, and seeing all these intimate parts of his life, and how he’s been taking such good care of me. I just can’t stop myself from thinking about...” I try to trail off suggestively, but Lia gives me a look that demands I say it out loud. “Thinking about him! Thinking about jumping his bones! Thinking about ripping a manuscript out of his hands, crawling into his lap, and screwing his brains out right on that beige armchair. God, what is wrong with me?” My face is nine billion degrees as I bury it in my hands.

“Sophie, oh my god,” Lia whisper-shouts through a laugh. “That’s amazing!”

“Is it amazing though?” I peek through my fingers with desperation. “Because we finally kissed and he was so freaked out he literally ran away. Like immediately evacuated the dance floor. And then he came back and was still freaked out like two hours later, and we decided to just be friends, and now we’ve been tiptoeing around each other all week and I hate it.”

“Sophie, he definitely freaked out because he thought you were freaking out. That man has been in love with you for years.”

“What?” I shriek, grabbing her arm. “Did he tell you that?”

“No, but he didn’t have to. It’s obvious from literally everything he does.”

I drop her arm and turn away, trying to hide the emotions I’m wearing like makeup. “That’s not true. We just have a very close friendship. Whatever—why am I explaining this to you of all people? You know what we’re like.”

“Yes, I do,” she insists. “I know what you’re like together, and I know what he’s like when you’re not there, and I know what he’s like when he’s watching you and thinking about you and talking about—”

“Stop!” I shove her shoulder. “It’s not like that.”

“I’m not going to stop until you admit he’s in love with you.”

“If he was in love with me, why wouldn’t he just ask me out? Ever? Even once in the last nine-plus years?”

Lia turns towards me, hands on her hips. “Do you really want to know what I think, or are you going to dismiss it out of hand?”

I mirror her pose, feigning bravery. “I really want to know what you think.”

“I think, at first, it was just Andy being Andy. The boy is indecisive and nervous as all hell and too used to dates just appearing from thin air. And then I think as time went on, it just became too much pressure. He loves you too much, even as a friend, to risk messing it up.”

“But he knows I’m interested in him!” A woman at the adjoining rack shoots eye daggers at me and I realize I’m shouting again. I lower my voice, leaning in towards Lia. “He’s always known, ever since that first summer. Why—why wouldn’t—I mean, if he really—”

“There’s no use looking for logic,” she interrupts. “Andy’s a gold medalist in mental gymnastics.” She turns back to the rack, continuing to browse like this conversation isn’t shattering my whole worldview. “I think you should invite him to the museum event with you. It can be as friends, low pressure. But hey, if you happen to look stunning in a new dress with your hair and makeup done, and he happens to end the night by confessing his undying love, then all the better.”

I’m a pesky little bird, flitting at her shoulder. “I thought you didn’t want us together? Don’t I recall you saying something about me staying away from him unless we’re going to get married like… four days ago?”