“Garrett!” Now I’m starting to worry. “What’s going on? You know you can tell me anything.”
A pause, and then he says the words I’ve been longing to hear, the ones second only to “I love you” and “I can’t live without you.”
“I, um . . . It’s me and Beth. We broke up.”
2
“You what?” I gasp. Talk about a birthday miracle: I offered my wish up to the universe, and it delivered! OK, so Garrett hasn’t swept me into a passionate embrace and sworn he can’t live without me, but still, this is a start.
“When?” I ask, struggling to hide my joy. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
He looks awkward. “It was just last night. I mean, we’ve been fighting for a while, but . . . I don’t know. I didn’t want to spoil your birthday with all my breakup drama.” He keeps playing with his coffee cup, looking embarrassed.
“Garrett! What happened? Did she cheat on you? Did you finally get sick of her reading Cosmo all the time? Did she throw one tantrum too many?” Garrett has a thing for redheads, and drama club girls at that. I’ve thought about dyeing my hair and nearly auditioned for the spring play, but somehow, I don’t think even that would make the difference. “Wait. I’m sorry,” I say, reminding myself that I’m supposed to be the supportive friend here — rather than, you know, filled with wild hope and rapturous expectation. “The most important thing is, are you OK?”
He nods, reluctant, but something about the way he presses his fingertip into the sugar grains on the table brings me back to earth with a jolt. He’s genuinely hurt here, and even I wouldn’t wish that on him, however thrilled I am about the circumstances behind said pain. “I guess it was inevitable?” he asks. “I mean, she’s graduated now. And things haven’t exactly gone smooth these last few months.”
“You mean, because she’s crazy,” I point out.
“No! Beth is just . . . complicated. High maintenance . . .”
“Crazy,” I finish, shaking my head. “The girl would throw a fit over anything.”
You may think I’m a teeny, tiny bit biased when it comes to the character of Garrett’s girlfriends, but trust me, this isn’t even me being blinded by jealousy and unrequited longing. After tagging along on countless third-wheel movie nights and after-school hangouts, I can safely say that Beth Chambers is a high-strung, temperamental bitch. And I can — say it, I mean. Finally!
“You’re so much better off without her,” I reassure him fervently. “I don’t know why you dated her in the first place.”
Let alone for five months. Five whole months of agony, watching him moon all over her, every kiss like a tiny dagger to my heart.
Garrett gives me this wistful smile. “Because she’s beautiful.” He sighs. “And unpredictable. And being around her inspired me to write the most amazing poetry. . . .”
I bite my lip. OK, so we’re not quite done with the tiny daggers just yet. “But it didn’t work out, right?” I remind him. “There was a reason you broke up with her.”
He nods, resigned. “She wanted commitment. You know, that we’d stay together in college. She made it into an ultimatum, like if I couldn’t promise her that, then there was no point in even trying.” Garrett’s voice is heavy, and even though this is the news I’ve been waiting — hoping, praying! — for ever since they first hooked up at Lexie Monroe’s party, I can’t help but feel a pang for him.
“You did the right thing,” I insist. “Really, you won’t regret it.”
Garrett, alas, isn’t as convinced. “I don’t know. I cared about her,” he says quietly. “I still do. I know she could be . . . difficult, but when we were together, just the two of us, it was amazing.”
“But she gave you the ultimatum,” I remind him gently. “And who could give that guarantee, anyway?”
He manages a smile. “I know. I’ll feel better soon. I hope. See?” He rolls his eyes. “This is why I didn’t mention it — I didn’t want to drag you into my relationship angst. Not today.”
“What are best friends for?” I bounce up. “Come on, no more moping around here. There’s a Before Sunrise box set with our name on it.”
He pauses. “Are you sure?”
“Hmm, let me think about that.” I pretend to ponder. “An evening with Ethan Hawke and pizza. Oh, the tragedy!”
Not to mention snuggling up with Garrett on the conveniently small couch.
Garrett finally cracks a smile, genuine this time. “We’re gonna party like it’s your birthday,” he raps, badly, slinging an arm over my shoulder as we head toward the exit.
“Eww, no, stop!” I hit him.
“Gonna talk about Descartes like it’s your birthday.”
“I’m officially disowning you,” I tell him, putting distance between us. Garrett just sings louder.
“Gonna sip root beers like it’s your birthday.”
I catch LuAnn’s eye as we pass. She grins, and I blush. “I can’t take him anywhere,” I tell her as Garrett makes lame white-boy gang signs.
“You know we’ll stay out past eleven o’clock ’cause it’s your birthday!”
“And you call yourself a poet.”
By the time Garrett drops me off back home after our movie marathon — and a whole tub of peanut brittle — I’ve managed to convince him that breaking up with Beth is the best thing that’s ever happened to him. I definitely know it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Finally, the Gods of Unrequited Crushes are on my side: Garrett is single, just in time for us to head off to lit camp together. I can see us now: days spent pushing each other to dizzying literary heights, nights spent sneaking away for romantic rendezvous under the stars.
After two years of agony, destiny is on my side once more!
“Remember, no more moping around, reading her old love letters,” I order Garrett as I hop off the Vespa and tuck the helmet under the backseat.
“Yes, ma’am.” He laughs.
“See you tomorrow?” I ask. “We could spend the day reading out by the river.”
“Sounds good.” Garrett revs the engine. “Give me a call in the morning, OK?”
I watch happily as he rides away, Vera spluttering all the way back down the street, a flash of red against the green of the shady oak trees and overgrown front lawns. Me and mom live on the older side of town, where the streets are full of rambling colonial houses and leafy backyards, but Garrett’s family is across town in one of the newer developments by the lake: the crisp mock-Tudor houses full of plush cream carpets and sofas that get smudge marks just from looking at them.