the Excedrin to kick in. She had a giant green vat of headache pills in the medicine cabinet and a little matching one in her purse. I guess the whole illness thing was the way to go if you wanted to avoid the “uncomfortable truth.” Which, really, everyone did.
Inside the “cabin,” there’s a three-story-high stone fireplace decorated with giant moose antlers. Uncle Jim loves the outdoors, too, but he’s no Davy Crockett. He is all about modern conveniences. Their place in Wayview, while full of big windows that bring the outdoors in, is crammed with all the latest gadgets: space-age coffeemakers that do everything but pour the stuff down your throat, wall-sized televisions, things like that. I should have known this place would be no different. Angela catches me looking and says, “The antlers are fake.”
“Oh,” I say, wondering where people buy fake moose antlers. There are paintings of mountain and forest scenes everywhere and it smells like pine, not real pine like outside, but pine air freshener. Something about it inspires me. There’s a poem in here somewhere. I pull out my trusty notebook and scribble some notes: What is real? What is good about nature anyway?
Justin looks around, his upper lip curled in disdain. It’s not exactly the great outdoors. He turns to me and laughs. “Well, aren’t we just glowing?”
I smile. “Oh yes. I’m going to go pick out my bedroom. Do you think it has a fireplace? Maybe a robe and fuzzy slippers?”
“What are you writing?” he asks.
“Notes. Observations. ‘My boyfriend’s upper lip disappears completely when he is disappointed.’ ”
He realizes what he’s doing and sticks out his lips, moving them up and down like a fish gulping for air. “This better? Ah, well. And here I thought we would get the chance to snuggle.”
He’s mocking me. I’m always cold, so I’m the one usually trying to snuggle against him. I punch his shoulder as we climb the open staircase to the loft.
Angela follows us upstairs and leads us to a giant room with another fireplace and a huge brass king bed. “You can have the master suite, if you want,” she says, giving me a wink.
We throw our stuff onto the bed. It’s not really a big deal, having the master suite to ourselves for a weekend. Teaching AP history and supervising three extracurriculars, Dad can’t always be around to watch us. At my house, we could have wild monkey sex every afternoon on the kitchen table if we so chose. As it happens, we don’t choose that, ever. I know of people in my class who live under their parents’ thumbs, so the second they’re free, they’re going at it, in public restrooms, parks, wherever. Justin and I aren’t like that. We never were.
Not that I have much to compare him to. Justin dated a bunch of other girls before me. I don’t think I ever saw him single. But Justin is my first boyfriend. So when we started dating, there were a lot of things I didn’t know. But we’ve been together since freshman year. Now being with him is like sliding into a favorite T-shirt.
And yet somehow, I think as I pull my long underwear out of my bag, I still couldn’t tell him I wanted to go to the prom.
Maybe because, after three years, he should have just known.
Angela walks back down the hallway, whistling something that sounds like a cross between “Let’s Get It On” and “Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah.” Justin puts his arms around me. He looks around and sighs.
“I know, you wanted to toast marshmallows over an open fire,” I say.
He nods. “Yeah.”
“Fine,” I say, thinking, Next weekend. Next weekend we’re going shopping, come hell or high water. And high water is definitely coming, whether I like it or not. He can handle a couple of hours holding my bag as I try on new clothes. “It’s pretty warm tonight. You and I can go out in our sleeping bags and light a fire and sleep under the stars. Okay?”
He raises his eyebrows. “You’d hate that.”
“No, it’ll be … fun.”
He laughs, because I’m sure my face must be twisted in disgust. “I knew I loved you for a reason.”
“Besides, Hugo’s really getting on my nerves. It will be nice to get away from him.”
“He just makes fun of you all the time because he wants you,” he says matter-of-factly.
I try to swat him away. Justin is always under the impression that anything with a Y chromosome is after me. This includes