A Toast to the Good Times - By Liz Reinhardt Page 0,42
arms around her waist and hold her tight to me for a second.
“Whoa. Wait a minute. Things have changed between us, and I’m definitely happy about those changes. And what exactly do you think the truth is?” I try to brush a stray strand of hair out of her eyes, but she bats my hand away.
“The truth is...I had a huge crush on you. From the first day in the bar when you were drinking those disgusting pickle juice drinks. And, I guess, I figured if we were friends first that would be okay, because if you were just my friend first you might stop seeing me as some nerd-”
“You aren’t some nerd,” I argue.
“I am.” She smiles, a slow, lush upturn of her lips. “I am, Landry, and proud of it, okay? I have a feminist poetry tattoo, and my dream vacation would be to go to Comic Con and spend a few extra days reading my newly autographed graphic novels in a hotel room—”
“Really? Not, like, Maui or Paris or something?” I’m half-kidding. It’s surprising, but in a good way.
She blinks hard and frowns. “Really. And I knew you and I wouldn’t necessarily see eye to eye on things, and I knew it was so stupid to think you’d just wake up in love with me or at least wake up and see me as a girl who may actually have some sex appeal instead of a dork you happen to room with.”
“I never saw you that way,” I lie.
I always saw her that way until the infamous red dress the other night, and I’m embarrassed as all hell by how blind I’d been.
“You know what’s so funny?” She asks the question in a way that lets me know I’m probably never going to laugh at what she has to say.
“What’s that?” I take her hand, and, even though I get the feeling she wants to tug it back, she lets me hold it.
“All the times I tried so hard to get you to notice me, nothing ever happened until the minute I didn’t look or feel at all like me anymore. That should have been my first warning sign.”
“Mila...” But I don’t know what to say. Because part of what she’s saying is true, but there’s another part entirely that she’s missing. She’s so completely missing it, and it’s killing me not to be able to explain it how I want to.
“It’s okay.” She grins at me. “I mean, we’re humans. We’re shallow. We notice the outside before the inside. I liked you first because, well, obviously...” She gestures to my face and blushes.
“Um? What?”
I feel the burn in my ears, surprised at how disappointed I am that the first thing Mila was attracted to about me is exactly what every girl I’ve ever met has been attracted to since I was in middle school. And I’m stupidly let down that it feels like my looks are the only thing girls really notice about me sometimes, that I’ve never had to prove myself in any other way because no one really asked it of me.
I so badly want Mila to be different.
“You’re impossibly good looking, Landry.” She rolls her eyes and laughs. “Like so damn good looking, it’s not really fair to all the other mortal men. At first I thought you were too good looking, you know? Like you’d be a jerk or a player. But you’re...not. You’re such a good person, and you’re so driven and smart and kind of funny when you loosen up. It’s almost like your looks can keep people from seeing all the really, truly good parts of you.”
So, maybe I had proved myself, after all.
Her smile is regretful, like she’s already given up on us, before we ever got a chance to be.
I interrupt frantically. “Okay. Hold that thought. Hold all your thoughts. Alright, I was an ass, that’s a given. I was stupid. Another given. But coming back home changed the way I see things. And, I know you’re not going to believe this, but I was thinking about you the second before we crashed into each other outside my father’s bar. I’ve been thinking about you pretty much nonstop since the minute I walked out the door of our apartment. I was missing you and wanting to get back to you.”
Her eyes light up for a single instant, but they tamper back down almost immediately.
“Yeah. That makes sense. I’m comfortable. Dependable. Good old Mila. But the only times