to New York City, spending the week with my family, thinking mostly of him. I told Avery about my crush, though I kept the details of his identity a secret. She assumed it was another boy in my intern class, and I didn’t feel the need to correct her. She encouraged me to take a chance.
“That whole ‘love is patient’ nonsense? It’s bullshit! There is no room for patience when it comes to love! If you want this guy, you need to tell him!”
“It’s not that easy.”
“I. Like. You.” She ticked off the words on her fingers. “Explain to me why that’s difficult.”
“The circumstances—”
“Circumstances? Oh my god. You’re eighteen! Circumstances shouldn’t matter!” Avery was always like this. Growing up, the future was never definite for her. In her opinion, we were all taking advantage of tomorrow. You get today, that’s it, she’d tell me, her pale green eyes flaying me open.
We were back at the apartment she shared with my parents, a shoebox disguised as an efficiency. My mom and sister slept on the bed. My dad slept on the couch. While I was in town, I took the floor. My parents were out picking up groceries for Thanksgiving dinner, and I sat on the bed watching Avery. I couldn’t help it. When we were together, our old roles always fell into place. She would always be the star.
She sat on the windowsill, one leg bent against her chest. Her head leaned against the glass pane. The city sat at her fingertips. Warm light flooded past her blonde curls.
“Is he married?” she asked, her gaze on the street below.
“No.”
“A criminal?”
“No.”
“Then kid”—we’re only a year apart—“you gotta go for it.”
Before I could come up with a solid rebuttal, she’d hopped down from the windowsill like a graceful cat and snatched my laptop from where it lay on top of my duffle bag.
“What’s your password?”
“Avery!”
She was already typing in her first guess. “Huh. AverySucks seemed like a sure thing.”
I tried in vain to snatch the computer away from her, but she spun away and ran for the restroom, squealing with terror as I chased her. The door slammed. I slapped my hand against it, shouting.
“Avery. This isn’t funny.”
“You’re right. It’s very un-funny how you’re willing to let life just slip right by you. I’m trying to help you. Now tell me, what’s your password?”
I let my forehead smack against the door. “Avery…”
“ILoveAvery didn’t work either. This would be a lot easier if we worked together. If you swear you won’t steal the laptop back, I’ll come out there and we can sit on the bed and behave like adults.”
I seized the opportunity. “Fine! Okay.”
The door cracked an inch. One of her eyes scanned the perimeter. “Show me your hands.”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t have a weapon if that’s what you’re thinking.”
When she didn’t make a move to open the door any wider, I backed up so she’d see I was empty-handed then turned and splayed my body out on the bed. She came to sit beside me and asked me again for my password. I stared at the peeling popcorn ceiling, my heart a thundering racehorse in my chest.
“Derek.”
“His name is your password?! Oh wow.”
I squeezed my eyes closed in embarrassment. It’d been an impulse thing. My computer required I have a password for log-in. I wanted it to be easy, something that was always at the forefront of my thoughts.
I listened to her clicking and scrolling.
“You guys email a lot.”
I kept my eyes closed.
“Oh…what an interesting development. Little miss perfect has a crush on an older man. Her mentor, in fact. This just got so much juicier.”
I rolled over and stuffed my face into a pillow.
She must have sensed I’d hit my breaking point. She put the laptop down and threw herself over me like a steamroller. Her weight crushed me against the bed. Her hand tugged my hair away from my face and she leaned down, her lips in my hair, right by my ear.
“Do you want me to drop it?”
I thought for a long second, debating. Then I shook my head no.
It felt good to share my crush with someone else. I’d been wanting to tell Carrie for weeks, but I was too scared of her reaction. She and I were too similar—cautious, smart. Avery was the person I needed now—someone who’d give me a little nudge in the wrong direction.
“Let’s just send him an email. Since that’s your preferred form of communication, it won’t seem weird.”
I rolled