Girl Crushed - Katie Heaney Page 0,95

have cared less about UCLA, even though they’ve been very nice to me. All he heard was ‘I didn’t get an offer from UNC, so I’m not moving out there, because I am just a big, gay disappointment.’?”

“Hey,” my mom said, grabbing my wrist. “You are not a disappointment. Especially not for being gay.”

“I know you don’t think so,” I muttered. Here come the freaking tears again, I thought. I looked down and tried to blink them back.

“Neither does your dad,” she said. “He’s just…He wanted you close by, is all. He missed you. But he made it so much about school for so long that he forgot how to express that to you in a way that doesn’t make you feel bad.”

I considered this for a moment.

“That’s a generous interpretation,” I said.

“I know,” she said, which made me laugh. For a few minutes we were silent, watching other mall-goers cross in front of our parking spot, listening to their muffled chatter.

“Parents are just people, Quinn,” my mom said. “And people fuck up. A lot.”

I smirked. “What about you?”

“Me? I’m perfect,” she said. She opened the car door and stepped out. “Let’s go get some chocolate.”

* * *

A few days later, I sat alone at a table at La Posta, cradling a small box of See’s in my hand like a baby bird. Five minutes after my mom bought me my own, I decided I should also buy one for Ruby, seeing as our two-month anniversary was coming up. Not that either of us had called it that, or chosen a day. But I did the math, and today was two months to the day after she first kissed me. On the cheek, but still. It was the moment I knew for sure that there was something between us, and I wanted us to celebrate it. Our texting had been erratic lately, and though I knew she’d been busy with family, and I’d been preoccupied with soccer and the Save Triple Moon campaign, I still worried something was wrong. So I’d suggested a dinner date, at “our” spot, and picked up a long-stemmed rose to go with my chocolates. I offered to drive, but Ruby was granted permission to use her car, so we agreed to meet at seven, by which time I was starving. I arrived ten minutes early and ordered a horchata, and it was gone by the time Ruby walked in at 7:02. I watched her scan the restaurant for me. She found me, and smiled, and then her eyes dropped to the rose sitting on the table in front of me. I knew right then that I’d made a mistake. I dropped my hands below the table, hiding the chocolate in my lap.

“Shit,” she said when she reached the table, still wincing at the rose. “What did I forget?”

“Oh, nothing,” I said, laughing. “It’s our ‘two-month anniversary,’?” I explained via air quotes, and Ruby relaxed. “This is just from Ralphs,” I said, gesturing at the cellophane-enclosed rose, which now looked sad-tacky instead of cute-cheesy, the way it had looked to me in the store. Maybe it was the lighting.

“Well, thank you,” said Ruby. “Happy ‘anniversary.’?” She leaned across the table to kiss me, perhaps out of pity, I thought. But then, no. The kiss was warm and reassuring, and just long enough to make the family two tables over stare.

“What do you want? I’ll order. You can hold down the table,” I said, slipping the candy box into my jean-jacket pocket.

“Let me get it this time,” said Ruby. She quickly stood up, and my cheeks burned a little. I liked seeing myself as the gentleman, the one who took care of things. Jamie had put considerable effort toward coaching me out of it, but with Ruby I’d resumed the habit. She’d never stopped me, or tried to pay, until now.

She’s just being egalitarian, I told myself. That’s a good thing. You’re a feminist. Plus, she has more money than you. By a lot.

“Okay,” I said shakily. “I’ll have the number four. Thank you.”

“You got it,” she said, grinning. I watched her

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