point I’m a little tired of it.
Me: But you like her.
Dave: Well I don’t want to marry her.
Dave: But I mean you saw her. She’s really cool. I don’t know. I honestly try not to think about it.
Me: Then don’t. Just let me handle it.
The more I considered it, the more I wanted to intervene directly with Dave and Mari.
Just giving advice wasn’t working. Like, I could wait for Dave to make a move on his own, but that would probably never happen. The fact is, you need confidence in order to get girls, but the most confident guys are assholes. People don’t decide to be nervous, nerdy guys like Dave. Their nervousness comes from the realization that it’s fundamentally sort of weird to think some random girl would want to kiss you.
Obviously what you’d want is for guys to pay attention, read the signs, watch her body language, and intuit when she’s into it. But that’s next-level shit. In order to do that, you need to get it wrong a bunch of times, and guys like Dave would be shattered after a few failures.
Which is why he needed my help, because from what I could see Mari was clearly into Dave—you don’t hang out with someone in a date-like way for hours upon hours, day after day, unless you’re desperate for them to make a move—and the two of them just needed the smallest possible nudge to get them together.
But I couldn’t do it alone. If I went with them by myself, then just by hanging around, unattached on my own, I’d make Mari feel weird about moving things forward with Dave. We needed a fourth wheel.
Avani got back to me within an hour.
Avani: What’s up? Where’d you go last night? People were looking for you.
Me: Dave drove me home.
Me: Actually, he’s the reason I’m texting.
Me: I’ve got a scheme I want to involve you in.
Avani: Uhh, I don’t know if I like the sound of that. . . .
Me: Come on, it’ll be fun. You always say you’re gonna embark upon schemes with me.
Avani: Do I say that?
Me: What’re you up to right now? Can I come over?
Avani: Doing my nails.
Me: Lol, such a girl.
Avani: Hey, that was a microaggression.
Me: Whatever, keep your cissexism to yourself.
Avani: I meant it was a microaggression because the term hewed to the gender binary.
Me: I hewed your mom last night.
Avani: Gross.
Me: Ageist.
Our school was hella liberal, and we’d had assemblies on all the politically correct terminology. Avani loved to make fun of it all, but you could tell she sort of believed in it.
Me: Come on. Just to hang out. And anyway I’m bored.
Avani: Sigh. Fine. Don’t ring the bell.
I walked into the hills. Biking would’ve been faster, but I might’ve been seen. Everybody walked sometimes, but only people without cars still used bikes.
The day was warm and incredible, with a pale blue sky, and the breeze ruffled the hair on my bare legs and arms. Part of me was insanely, deliriously excited at the idea of being alone with Avani. Surely that was far from queer? I’d never felt like that about seeing Dave. This girl had always keyed me up, right from the beginning.
Avani’s basement was filled with pinball machines. As a hobby, her dad purchased them from all over the country, restored them in his garage, hauled them into the basement, and then never ever used them.
Her cat rubbed himself against my shins. When I picked him up, Lucifer went completely inert, turning into a purring mass of fur.
I ducked under the lit-up neon beer sign (another project of her dad’s) and saw Avani on the couch. The television was on but quiet: she was watching RuPaul’s Drag Race with her earbuds plugged into the remote control.
Avani did have a bedroom somewhere above us in the house, but I’d never seen it. She and I always hung out in her subterranean lair.
I crept up on her, still holding the cat. Avani wore a flannel shirt and black sweatpants. Her feet were propped on the table, and she applied a layer of base coat as Ru scolded one of the drag queens for her laziness.
“Hey, I’m here,” I said. Avani laid down another clear stripe.
The cat squealed, and I set him on the ground. Lucifer got spooked, dashing across the carpet.
Avani startled me with a shout: “NANDAN.”
“I’m right behind you.”
“NANDAN, ARE YOU HERE? DON’T HIDE FROM ME.”
This was okay in her basement, but she did this at school too: Whenever