Now, hours later, I’m lying in my own bed, smiling into the darkness. My phone buzzes. I reach over and grab it off my nightstand, expecting another message from Ben, but instead it’s Alistair.
Can you come outside for a minute?
I frown and sit up, pull back my curtain. It’s almost midnight and it’s below freezing and snowing pretty heavily, but there’s Alistair, standing underneath the streetlamp across from my house. Staring up at my window.
He gives me a small wave.
What is he doing here?
I climb out of bed and quietly slip past my parents’ room and down the stairs. I pull my puffy jacket on over my pajamas and step into my winter boots.
The street is quiet. Most of the lights in the neighboring houses are off, everybody already tucked into bed. It’s so cold that I can see my breath. My boots leave deep impressions in the snow as I walk toward Alistair. He’s still waiting under the streetlight in a jean jacket that’s not nearly warm enough for this weather and those pointless fingerless gloves. Snowflakes have gathered in his dark hair, like stars in the night sky.
I’ve almost reached him when I slip on a patch of ice. Alistair grabs my arm, but instead of steadying me, he loses his balance too, and we fall in a tangled heap to the ground.
He groan-laughs, rubbing his hip. “I can’t believe you took me down with you,” he says. “You all right?”
I’m lying on my back, the streetlight shining in my eyes. My butt aches from landing on the hard-packed snow, but otherwise I’m okay. “I’m fine.”
Alistair gets to his feet and holds out his hand to help me up. But once I’m standing, he doesn’t let go of my hand. He doesn’t move away. He just stands there, barely a breath away, his eyes dropping to my lips.
My heart flutters. He’s never looked at me like this before. Like he’s thinking about kissing me.
Or maybe he has. Maybe he’s looked at me this way before and I just haven’t looked back at him.
I’m light-headed at the thought of closing the last bit of distance between us and doing something that we could never undo.
What am I doing? This is Alistair. Hooking up with him would be a mistake. What would happen to our friendship if things didn’t work out between us?
I let go of his hand. “Why are you here?” The words come out a bit more abruptly, more accusatory, then I intended them to. It makes me wonder what I’m really annoyed about—that Alistair’s shown up in the middle of the night, or that I’m having these unwelcome feelings for him. And even if I could put my worry about ruining our friendship aside, it doesn’t even matter, because he’s too late—I’m with Ben now. He may not officially be my boyfriend yet, but we’re definitely heading in that direction.
Alistair doesn’t say anything for a long moment. It’s so quiet that I can hear the snow falling.
He clears his throat. “I wanted to know if you want to go to winter formal,” he says. “With me.”
I gape at him. A school dance is the last place that Alistair would ever voluntarily be seen, but he’s asking me to go with him anyway. As his date. It’s so un-Alistair-like that I’m momentarily thrown.
My throat feels thick as I tuck my hands inside my jacket pockets. “Ben already asked me.”
Alistair winces. He glances away from me. “So, what? He’s your boyfriend now?”
I shrug. I have nothing to feel bad about. I should be happy—I was happy, until he showed up outside my window—but instead I feel hollow. I’m shaking, but I don’t think it has anything to do with the cold.
He gives me one of his lopsided smiles and my heart aches. This is the worst. “Okay, well. No big deal,” he says. “Just thought I’d ask. Uh, I should probably get going. Before we both freeze to death.”
I nod. “Okay. Talk to you tomorrow?”
“Yeah, sounds good.”
My chest tightens as I head back toward my house. I just want to get inside and crawl back into my bed, and hopefully the next time I see Alistair, we can pretend this conversation never happened. We can go back to ignoring these feelings we have for each other, and just stay friends.
I’m almost at my door when I hear him hurrying to catch up with me, his high-top Converse crunching through the snow.
“Actually, Em,” he says as I turn back around. “There’s something I need to tell you.” He’s standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at me, his eyes bright. “And I need to do it now before I completely lose my nerve. So just listen, okay?”
I’m not sure that I want to know what he’s about to say. In fact, I’m pretty sure that I don’t want to know—he’s going to ruin everything—but he’s already walking up the steps. He stops in front of me.
“If you’re a bird, I’m a bird,” he says.
I blink. Huh?
“I could be fun, if you want,” Alistair continues. The tips of his ears are red. “Pensive … smart … superstitious, brave. I can be light on my feet. I could be whatever you want. You just tell me what you want and I’ll be that for you.”
Wait. Is he quoting from The Notebook?
My stomach flips. I think he is. Marisol and I have made him watch that movie a million times. He always pretends to hate it.
Alistair sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “Look, what I’m trying to say is that I—”
“I know what you’re trying to say,” I interrupt. I just can’t believe he’s saying it. I can’t believe that he’s doing this now. The depth of feeling in his eyes scares me and I don’t know how to handle it. I’m not ready for this. I’m not ready for him. He reaches for my arm but I step away.
We’ve been friends forever. I don’t want to mess with what we have. Besides, I can’t just turn off my feelings for Ben. And, more important, I don’t want to.
Alistair exhales and tips his head back to look at the sky. The silence between us stretches into awkwardness. “I don’t get it,” he says finally. “Why him?”
I shake my head. I don’t know what to say. The truth is kind of embarrassing to admit, and it won’t make anything between us easier: Ben is good-looking, the most popular guy in school, and he likes me. Out of all the girls in our school, he noticed me. Is it so wrong to want to be popular, to spend weekends doing something other than playing board games? To want a different life from the one I have?
But Alistair wouldn’t understand—being popular isn’t something he aspires to—so I just say, “Why not him?”
He scowls. “I can think of a few million reasons.”
“Come on. You don’t even know him.”
“And I don’t want to,” he says. “Em, seriously, he’s a jerk. How do you not see that?”
“People can change.”
He shakes his head sadly. “Yeah, I guess they can.” Then he turns and walks away, leaving me alone on the porch, my eyes burning with tears as I watch him disappear down the street.
SIX MONTHS LATER
CHAPTER
4
“Buongiorno. Cosa vorresti “per cena?” Mom says when I walk into the kitchen. She’s sitting on a stool at the island, her laptop open to an online language program. She’s been on the fast track to learn Italian ever since she booked our trip to Italy last month.