“ALL RIGHT!” MARA SAYS, as she walks into my bedroom that weekend. “Let’s download. It’s time you start spilling, Edy—I’m supposed to be your best friend, right?”
I close and lock the door behind her.
“What do you mean?” I ask as she plops down on my bed and takes her coat off.
“I mean, do I ever get to see you anymore? You’re spending everywakingminute with Joshua Miller and you haven’t given me any details whatsoever. So, it’s time to spill your guts.”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “What is there to tell?”
“Tons! Okay, let’s start with where are you going when you’re together every day? Are you going to Joshua Miller’s house?” she asks, raising her eyebrows.
I laugh. “Yes, I’ve even been in Joshua Miller’s bedroom.”
“No shit. Joshua Miller’s bedroom,” she repeats in awe.
“Okay, you need to stop calling him Joshua Miller, Mara. It’s weird.”
“But . . . he’s Joshua Miller, Edy.”
“I’m aware of that.” I sit down in my desk chair and look at her, so excited for me, and I try really hard not to get excited for me too.
“So what do you call him? Sweetie? Sexy? Sugar? Greek God?”
“Yeah, Mara, I call him Greek God.” I laugh, throwing a pillow at her face. “Josh usually does the trick, though.”
“Josh . . . ,” she repeats, rolling the word around in her mouth. “So, what’s he really like?”
“I don’t know. He’s nice. He’s just . . . he’s really nice, actually.”
“And hot, don’t forget,” she adds, like I could ever forget that. “So have you . . . you know? Had sex?” she whispers.
I nod my head yes.
“Oh my God! What was it like? What was he like?” she asks awkwardly, scooting to the edge of the bed.
“No, I’m not discussing this.”
“Come on, I need to live vicariously through you,” she pleads.
“Well, what’s going on with you and Cameron?”
“Nothing.” She sighs. “Not even close. Still just friends.” And suddenly, the way she looks at me, I feel an entire ocean between us, and we’re standing on opposite shores, staring at each other from the farthest ends of the world.
“So, come on, tell me about your hot boyfriend. Please?” she asks, rather than acknowledging this great distance.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I correct her.
“He doesn’t want to be your boyfriend?” she asks, scrunching her face up. “What, he just wants to sleep with you and—”
“No. It’s me. I don’t want to be his girlfriend.”
“Are you insane?” she asks immediately.
“Maybe.” I laugh.
“Seriously, though. Are you totally insane?”
“I just—I don’t know. I don’t like the idea, I guess. I don’t wanna be tied down like that. Obligated. Stuck, you know?”
“That doesn’t make any sense at all. But okay. As long as he’s not trying to keep you guys a secret or anything scummy like that?”
“He’s not. I promise. And it’s not scummy to want a little privacy.”
“Whatever you say, Eeds. I wouldn’t know anything about it, I guess.” She relents, a hint of something like resentment there beneath the surface. But she quickly pushes it back down wherever it came from and grins. “So is it good? Or fun? Or whatever it’s supposed to be.” She laughs, embarrassed. “Is he, you know, nice to you, when you’re together, I mean?”
I nod yes.
She smiles. “He better be.”
