The Cheerleader

Chapter Seventeen

Susie

English Comp is my favorite class—and the class I most dread. I can’t escape my fascination with Bryan, clinging to my girlhood impression of him as the brave and vulnerable injured boy who showed such unabashed gratitude for a small kindness, leaving me forever wanting to do more for him.

I sit with him in class every session now, and he expects me to be there even if he doesn’t talk much. I don’t take his silence personally. We don’t walk out together, but he usually says, “See you later.”

That’s as friendly as it gets between us until he comes by for tutoring.

By our second tutoring session this week, it seems word has gotten around the dorm that he’s in the dining room, and the girls start hanging around to ogle him. A couple of girls even valiantly try flirting with him. He doesn’t encourage it, though he’s polite, as polite as a guy who doesn’t smile can be.

“Bryan, good luck at the UNH game,”

one of the girls says. I think her name is Delores.

He grunts and turns away, making an exaggerated effort to keep his head down.

I open my notebook. “I’ve never been to UNH.”

He grunts again, staring down at his paper, trying to ignore the girls, which isn’t easy because they almost surround us in the dining room. Not only are they obvious about staring, they’re also whispering. They may as well be pointing. I glare at Delores, and she turns away.

“We—you should be able to beat them easily, I hear.”

His eyes dart up to mine. Challenge, to the point of defiance, radiates from them, and I feel the heat down to my toes.

“Nothing’s easy about it.”

His words are a sensual low growl, and I feel it—like I always seem to—low in my belly.

I try, but there’s no way to hold back the shudder. He doesn’t miss it, and he gives me a half smirk. I’m almost pleased. Or I would be if I didn’t feel like we were on stage performing for a dozen overly curious girls.

He slams his notebook shut, trapping his papers there. “Let’s get out of here.”

He says it loud enough for everyone to hear, for half the room to jump like they’re startled, like they’ve been caught eavesdropping on the other side of the door instead of out in the open.

He stands, and I follow his lead, noticing that he looks around the room, meeting everyone’s eyes who dares to glance at him—which is just about everyone—before they look away.

Gathering my things, I follow him from the dining room to the back door. “Where are we going?”

My voice is breathy as visions of me and him in his room heat me up with terror and the unmistakable draw of wanting. Shit. My cheeks heat up.

Liz bops down the stairs then, meeting us at the bottom as we reach the door. Shit. Shit. Guilt spikes, and I look away.

“Where are you going, guys? I was just coming down to say hello.”

Bryan stops, looking her over for an endless second like he’s checking her for booby traps before he speaks. “Library. Even with all the people there, we’ll have less of an audience than we do here.”

Liz nods, looking past him into the doorway of the dining room as a few girls leave now that the show is over. “I see what you mean.”

She smiles as brightly as if she’s never had a care in the world. “I’ll come with you. I have some research to do for my economics paper.”

“So we’re good?”

Bryan murmurs to her as we walk out the door.

She takes his arm. “Always. You know that.”

The way she looks at him embarrasses me to watch, like I’m some kind of interloper in their relationship, so much worse than a third wheel. More like a third wheel with a stick of dynamite ruining their moment.

Aiming my eyes at the dirt, I go around them and hurry along the path worn in the grass to the sidewalk in the direction of the library.

“Wait up, Susie,”

Liz calls. “You’re not ditching him, right? He needs your help.”

I stop and let them catch up to me. He’s unreadable, but I’m sure anyone, especially him, can see that I’m uncomfortable. It’s getting to be a perpetual state when I’m around him and sometimes when I’m nowhere near him and just thinking about him.

Shit. This can’t be healthy. But I’m stuck for now.

I nod. “Don’t worry. I predict he’ll get a B minus for this class.”

He chortles. “C plus is what I’m aiming for.”

“What happened to your competitive nature?”

He gives me a look and doesn’t answer, as if it’s a stupid question. Liz tightens her hold on his arm as if she’s protecting him from me. Before I look away, he pulls free.

“You’re right, Susie,”

Bryan says in a voice I don’t trust. “Aim high and don’t worry about falling on your face because what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

Liz laughs. “Don’t start quoting your father or you’ll scare me.”

“Sometimes he’s right.”

He’s looking at me, not Liz, and I feel like he’s expecting some kind of reaction. But all I’m thinking about is the relationship he has with Liz and how well she knows him—and his family. And honestly, I feel a prick of jealousy for no good reason.

“No one’s going to fall on their face.”

My voice is quiet and too serious for the moment, but too bad, because that’s who I am. Seriously optimistic.

“I can see why you get along with Liz,”

Bryan says, surprising me because I’ve never had a casual conversation with him, not really. I wonder again if he’s mentioned the ditch incident to Liz yet. Probably not, or she would have said something.

There’s something gut-tingling about sharing a secret with him—keeping it from Liz. I dart her a glance and force a smile.

“We go way back, me and Susie,”

she says, looping her arm through mine so that I feel like I’m taking Bryan’s place. “Not as far back as you and I,”

she says to him. Her voice is suggestive more than casual, and Bryan looks away.

He was at Liz’s house that day, before he ended up in the ditch, and I wonder, for the millionth time, what happened, how he got injured. Who hurt him? But I quickly dismiss the dark thoughts, like always, because I can’t undo what was done. And I refuse to torture myself with horrible thoughts about other people’s past misfortunes.

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. If that saying is true, then Liz and Bryan are a hell of a lot stronger than I am. They’ve been inoculated by trouble at a young age—or at least Liz has—and I never was. I’m the soft one now.

“You never said what you think about winning the game at UNH Saturday,”

I say, needing to escape my heavy thoughts.

He grunts as we climb the steps to the library, and Liz answers for him.

“Of course we’ll win. Our team is definitely better.”

Bryan opens the heavy door for us, and we go inside.

“I’m going to the reference room,”

Liz says. “See you back at the dorm, Susie.”

She gives Bryan’s arm a squeeze like she has a right to and takes off, and I turn to him. “Where do you want to sit? The reading room?—”

“Not the reading room.”

I nod. Of course not. There’s always a crowd of people in there.

“Where, then? You know this library better than I do.”

I’m not going to suggest the stacks because I don’t want to be presumptuous. People go there to be alone.

“Let’s go to the stacks. I know a place we can be alone.”

Shit. My stomach dips and turns like he’s just sent me on a roller-coaster ride—the kind of ride I’m finding far too exciting.

“Okay,”

I say unnecessarily as I follow him. He’s not holding my arm or my hand or touching me in any way, so I’m being an idiot for reading anything intimate into him wanting us to be alone. He doesn’t want to be alone with me. He just wants to be left alone by others. And I should be ashamed of myself for getting excited about the prospect when my best friend, Liz, is clearly crazy about him.

Is he crazy about her? I don’t think so. They share something, but not that.

We climb the stairs and find even the stacks seem to be full. I wonder if it’s a Wednesday thing because I’ve been told Thursday is party night. But Bryan leads me to a private spot tucked away from everywhere and everyone after studiously ignoring all the stares and not meeting anyone’s eyes along the way.

Then we’re all business. We go over an essay we’ve been assigned to read, and it becomes clear to me that he has trouble with the order of words and sentences somehow. I know something’s wrong, but I don’t know what it is.

“Which paragraph do you think makes the most important point?” I ask.

“The third one.”

He’s not unsure in the least.

I nod. “I agree. So you see the pattern?”

“Now that you’ve broken it down, putting numbers next to the paragraphs for each point works. I didn’t notice the bridges between the points or the way they build, but now I do.”

“We should read a few more examples?—”

“Not tonight. I have an early class tomorrow. I need to get to bed.”

I check my watch. “It’s only eight thirty.”

“My class is at six a.m.”

My eyes widen before I remember. “That’s right. Farmers always rise early, don’t they?”

“You’re not making fun of farmers, are you?”

The right side of his mouth twitches in an almost smile, and even more telling that he’s teasing is that glint in his eye and the crinkles in the corners.

I grin. “What if I am? You going to punch me in the nose?”

“I wouldn’t want to ruin your pretty face. For you, I might have something else in mind.”

And there it is. He’s flirting again. Every cell in my body instantly heats up like he just lit me on fire. I don’t know what he has in mind, but the way he said it, I know it’s something wicked and sexy.

“How are your ribs feeling?”

Shit. What made me choose that question to diffuse my discomfort?

He snorts a laugh. “Now you ask about my ribs? Why didn’t you ask when Liz was around?”

My face heats up, but I resist the urge to look away.

“I don’t want to get involved in whatever’s between you and Liz.”

“That’s easy. There’s nothing between us.”

I raise a skeptical brow.

“Besides friendship,” he adds.

“If you say so.”

He firms his jaw like he’s getting ready to bite my head off and returns his attention to the essay.

When we finish and walk out the library doors, he turns in the opposite direction from me without a word.

Whatever normal parting comment I might have—like see you in class or have a nice night—dies on my lips. Liz has her work cut out for her if she wants to get past whatever fortress he has built around him. Even if they do have some kind of bond.

I shudder involuntarily. What if she doesn’t win him back—as a boyfriend? I can’t tell myself I’m not attracted to him. In fact, I should be telling him to stop flirting, but ever since that kiss, I can’t stop thinking about him that way, no matter how wrong or inconvenient my attraction might be.

No matter how dangerous he is because I know he’s a player, a heartbreaker. Any guy who would kiss a girl like he kissed me at Husky’s, someone he hardly knows, is a player.

But I let him, and I liked it way too much, and that scares me.

Almost as much as Liz finding out about my flirtation with Bryan.

The next night after cheering practice, Thursday, Liz insists we all go out. She marches everyone across the street from the field house to the student union building.

“Susie’s never been to the Rathskeller, ladies and gents. Let’s show her what she’s been missing.”

Everyone’s on board and showing more enthusiasm than I am, but Liz doesn’t let that deter her.

“You know I’m not a beer drinker?”

I remind her.

“That’s okay. I’ll drink enough for both of us.”

She laughs and adds, “I’m kidding. You don’t have to stay long, but I wanted to show you all the hot spots on campus. Maybe you’ll meet someone one of these nights.”

She wiggles her brows as we climb the stairs to the second floor of the Student Union and then walk down a hallway.

“Where is this place? It looks like offices or something on this floor.”

When we round the corner, we come to a line of students along the wall of another hallway leading to an open door. Liz leads us past the line to the door where an older guy who looks like he’s in charge stands with his arms folded.

As soon as he sees Liz, he opens his arms, and she goes in for the hug.

“I was wondering when you would show up. Come in. You and all your friends.”

He motions for us to go inside the dimly lit room with a juke box blaring Elton John’s “Saturday Night.”

The pungent smell of beer hits me, and I crinkle my nose. The place is crowded.

Liz is way ahead of us, and I whisper to Carol, “Why is he letting us cut the line?”

She shrugs, “He says having the cheerleaders as regulars is good for business.”

We follow Liz to a table with a few guys from the football team. To my surprise, I see Bryan. A skitter of nerves tightens my chest. It’s not that I care about seeing him, but he still makes me… uncomfortable. No. I don’t know.

Liz walks past Bryan with nothing but a nod and a smile. Maybe her crush on him is cooling after the incident Saturday night. She hasn’t talked about it, and I haven’t brought it up, especially not after she came to the library with us and pretended nothing ever happened. She treated him more like a friend after his rejection. Hesitating, slowing my steps, I give him my best smile, maybe to make up for Liz’s snub.

His return nod is like a whisper while his expression doesn’t change from the same don’t bother me or I’ll eat you for dinner look, exactly like I imagine the wolf in Red Riding Hood. Why that should make me shiver, I don’t know. Maybe I should be, but I’m not afraid of him. He’s that boy. The one I’ve wondered about for so long.

The rest of the girls and two of the guys, Keith and Josh, join the group of football players and assorted others, some sitting at the table, some standing around, all drinking beer.

“Aren’t you in training?”

I ask Bryan, deciding to throw caution to the wind, with my bright cheerleader smile in place like it's glued on after hours of practice.

He’s standing at the edge of the group, nearest the door, as if he might want to escape, holding an almost full glass of beer. I bet it’s warm.

“Aren’t you?”

he says, not returning my smile.

“Touché.”

Before I can say more, some guy almost crashes into me, and Bryan pulls me out of the way, shielding me with his body as if I’m in danger of getting hurt. I guess I am.

The drunk guy rights himself and looks me over, ignoring Bryan. “Well, hello there, pretty girl.”

“Hi there, drunk guy.”

He laughs, then he squints as he studies me, trying to figure out what to say next, and I smile because he’s a little cute. “Hey, I know you—you’re a cheerleader.”

My smile falters, and I nod, not sure how to react. Should I be flattered that he recognizes me, or wary?

I can feel Bryan’s eyes on me while I decide, and I know without looking his face is expressionless. It’s his default reaction to me, and that bugs me. I forget about trying to figure out the drunk guy. The desire to make Bryan smile, a real smile, or even to make him laugh seems more important.

“I’m surprised you recognize anyone, drunk guy.”

I dart a glance at Bryan. He's still poker-faced.

“I’m not drunk. Not yet. Hey, how about if we chug? Whoever wins buys the beer.”

I laugh because the drunk guy convinces me he’s, in fact, very drunk. “Thank you for your confidence in my skills, but I’m not a beer chugger.”

He moves close, and if there was any question left about his drunken state, it's now resolved based on the smell of his breath.

He leers at me. “What do you chug?”

Before I have a chance to answer, Bryan steps between us, moving the drunk guy back a step without touching him.

“She’s not interested in chugging. Move along.”

Drunk guy squints up at him as if he’s noticing him for the first time. “Do I know you?”

Then he looks at me. “Are you with him?”

“No.”

We both say it at once.

“Then—”

“But Bryan’s right, I’m not?—”

“Bryan? Are you sure you’re not someone I know?”

Bryan stares back at him without answering for a beat of silence.

I huff because I may as well put an end to the stare-down before the drunk guy gets himself into trouble.

“He’s—”

“No one. I’m no one.”

Bryan cuts me off in a quiet, yet almost menacing voice.

I turn back to him to find him watching me. No expression, but I’m sure he doesn’t want me outing that he’s a football player, and I’m curious why.

“I was going to tell him you're a farmer.”

My heart flickers, warning me I might be playing with fire, provoking him.

A flicker of something crosses his face, and I smile, choosing to believe that something in his expression is approval. Not sure why I’m pleased with his approval—real or imagined.

“A farmer?”

Drunk guy has a laugh in his voice.

Bryan shifts his attention back to him.

Drunk guy grins. “You an Ag major?”

“Yes.”

Bryan stares a beat. “Problem with that?”

He says the words in a low, growly voice that reminds me of an animal in the night, the kind you don’t want to tangle with.

Drunk guy appears to agree with my impression because he backs up, gives me a salute, and turns away, stumbling past the rest of our group before he melts into the crowd.

I look around to see Liz and Judy flirting with Dane. He’s flanked by a few guys from the team who are trying to get noticed. They’re all holding glasses of beer in various stages of empty.

The sensation of being out of place breezes over me like a chill. What the hell am I doing here? In a pub when I don’t even like beer?

“What’s wrong?”

I look up at Bryan, shocked at his tone of voice, so different from the menace of a moment ago, still quiet but caring. Then I remember his concern for Liz that night when I first met him.

I smile at him, but he holds onto his expression, waiting for me to answer.

“I…”

I almost say I’m fine. Nothing’s wrong, but I can’t. He continues to stare patiently, and something about him demands honesty.

Heaving a breath, I give it to him.

“I don’t want to be here. Not really. I mean, the girls are fun, but I don’t like beer or drunk guys and…”

I run out of reasons for how I feel and end up a little confused.

He nods. “I’m leaving. I’ll walk you out.”

“No, you don’t have to do that. I came with Liz and?—”

“Tell her you want to leave.”

He pauses and almost smiles again, if that telltale tic in the corner of his mouth counts. “She’ll understand. She’s good people.”

I laugh. “I guess you would know.”

That gets me an instant frown.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing. Just that you know each other. From way back, right?”

God, what’s wrong with me? I have no business asking questions about their relationship.

He nods. “We do know each other. I don’t know what else she’s told you, but I consider her a friend.”

It’s not my imagination that he emphasizes the word friend, and it’s a little scary that his emphasis would set off a wave of nerves tingling in my stomach.

I nod. “You don’t have to leave on my account.”

“I’m not. I only planned to stay for a few minutes.”

He reaches over and puts his full glass of beer on the end of the table where his teammates are gathered, flirting with the other cheerleaders.

“What about your teammates?”

“What about them?”

I heave a breath. “I don’t remember the last time I had this much difficulty carrying on a conversation with someone who wasn’t a difficult adolescent.”

He snorts, and I see a definite uptick in the corner of his mouth, maybe an honest-to-god smirk. “You sound like a schoolteacher.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Not bad. More ironic.”

A pleasant frisson of shock buzzes through me as if I’d chugged a whole pitcher of beer, but without the awful taste. Because I think he’s flirting with me. A flush of heat climbs my neck to my cheeks, and before I think another thought, Liz comes over, throwing an arm over my shoulder.

“Hey there—how are my two best friends getting along?”

Any pleasantness I felt is gone, and the heat of shame ignites the fire of guilt, scorching my cheeks.

“We were just talking about leaving,”

Bryan says, his intense eyes on Liz. I cringe and want to intervene, to explain that it’s nothing because it isn’t.

Liz turns to me. “You want to leave?”

“I’m tired, Liz.”

It’s the only thing I can tell her that’s true without getting into a long story.

She nods. “Do you mind if I stay? I’m having a ball. I know I’ll pay in the morning, but you know what they say—work hard and play hard.”

She grins and pulls me toward Bryan.

I think she may have had one beer too many, but her confidence is still intact. “Bryan will walk you back to the dorm.”

He dips his head ever so slightly in a nod, aiming those intense dark eyes at me. I flick my eyes to Liz, uncomfortable being in the middle of her and the guy she wants, but she doesn’t seem to mind. Or maybe she’s too buzzed to notice. Or maybe she’s over him and content to be friends.

Taking me into a quick hug, she murmurs, “See you in the morning, sista.”

Then she kisses me on the lips as if it’s perfectly normal and bounces back to the knot of raucous athletes, a mix of football players, cheerleaders, and a few others I don’t recognize.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Bryan turns and then sweeps me up with his arm, guiding me out the nearby door. His touch is hot and his arm is like a band of iron, making me notice, making my nerves stand on end.

There’s still a line of students waiting to get into the pub, and a bouncer has taken the place of the manager, standing with his arms folded, comfortable in his role of guardian at the gate. He nods and smiles at me and then sees Bryan. I can tell the exact moment he recognizes Bryan. The look of respect and admiration is quickly followed by surprise.

“Shit,”

the guy mutters, but I hear him as we pass by. Bryan doesn’t acknowledge him or anyone in the line as a few of them watch us.

Someone shouts after us, “Hey Bryan, crush ‘em on Saturday.”

Then others turn, and the distinct sound of murmurs rises, and I catch a few snatches of the commentary.

Mostly they’re wondering who the hell I am and what the hell he’s doing with me. Maybe I should be wondering that myself, so I slow down, separating from him as we reach the stairs. He takes the stairs ahead of me, moving fast and gracefully, as if his ribs are healed. He looks like a movie in fast motion.

I follow, and it’s useless to try to keep up, but he waits for me at the bottom. He makes no comment, and we resume walking together, turning left when we get outside to walk the block and a half to my dorm in West Campus.

The air is cool, and I almost make a comment, but it seems too mundane to break the silence between us about the weather. His silence is purposeful. If I say anything, it would have to be meaningful, or I risk his disdain.

“Why don’t you want to see Liz anymore?”

He pulls up short and turns to me. I stumble ahead a half step, not expecting his abrupt stop.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I-I’m sorry. You’re right. Whatever is going on between you and Liz is none of my business.”

“That’s true. Or it would be true if there were anything going on besides that we’re friends. I thought we covered this.”

I laugh. “Covered it?”

He doesn’t laugh, but he starts walking again, and so do I. As we get closer to my dorm—where I room with Liz, I remind myself, my good friend who trusts me—my discomfort with walking with Bryan, as if he’s the big bad wolf and has some kind of intentions, takes on paranoid proportions. I can’t let this feeling sit and stew in me.

“You dated Liz, didn’t you?”

I bite my lip as he stops again, this time slowly, as he turns his entire body to face me. We’re on the corner a few yards away from my dorm, and he’s looking down at me. I’m thinking this is one of those times I should have taken my grandma’s advice not to ask any question you don’t want to know the answer to.

“What exactly are you trying to get at with all these questions about me and Liz?”

His voice is low and a little gravelly, sending vibrations through me—an exciting sensation, if I’m honest.

Looking up into his dark, intense eyes, I clear my throat, then move my attention to his chin and his chiseled jawline shaded with dark stubble. I barely stop myself from telling him he needs a shave, realizing it’s something my mom says to my dad.

“I’m sorry. But she’s a good friend of mine, and I don’t want to… come between you?—”

He barks a laugh. “You’re serious?”

I meet his eyes in spite of the sting of embarrassment in my cheeks because I know how my words sounded.

“It’s not that I think you’re interested in me…”

I trail off because I can’t tell him I’m concerned that Liz is still determined to win him over—to put it mildly. Talking about Liz with him wouldn’t be right.

“Then what is it, Susie? Tell me.”

He sounds like he’s toying with me, like he knows the answer and knows he has me trapped.

“You know exactly what I’m saying, so why don’t you stop playing games?”

“I will if you will.”

He doesn’t smile. Of course not. This would be so much easier if he smiled, if he were a normal, congenial, easy-going guy like his friend Dane. But he’s not. Nowhere close.

My forehead creases because I’m truly annoyed, frustrated, and disgusted with myself for being at all even a little bit attracted to this guy. I blame my fascination with that encounter in the ditch we had, but what if it’s more? Liz thinks he’s the next coming.

“I’m not playing games. I’m just trying to be a good friend to Liz. And this—”

I wave my hands around and between us. “Makes me uncomfortable, like I’m doing something wrong, and I don’t mean to.”

“Walking with me is doing something wrong?”

His eyes look downright playful now, and he’s unabashedly teasing me, purposely adding to my discomfort, all still without a hint of a smile.

“Yes. Because she … still has feelings for you.” Dammit.

“You’re forgetting it was her idea for me to walk you home.”

I see a twitch in the corner of his mouth like he’s suppressing a laugh—he’s trying not to laugh at me, but the idea that he wants to bugs me past my ability to keep my cool.

“You’re an asshole.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,”

he rumbles, his voice scraping over my skin and making me feel things, like it’s touching me. I shudder against the goosebumps, against the shiver of sparking nerve endings.

“You’re doing it again—teasing me to make me feel uncomfortable.”

“I’m incorrigible. Didn’t Liz tell you that? Didn’t she tell you why she still wants to sleep with me?”

My hands go up and push against his chest as if to shove a mountain. He doesn’t budge, and instead, I stumble back.

He reaches out an arm to steady me, and I find myself closer than ever to him, close enough to feel his body heat, to breathe in his scent, fresh pine and soap. I dare to look up at his face again, not sure if I’ll see the teasing glint in his eyes or the dark, fathomless stare.

It’s the stare, but it’s a new expression, intense and curious, and surprisingly, I notice some discomfort.

“Don’t worry, little girl. I’m not interested in you the way you think. But to set the record straight again, there’s nothing between me and Liz except friendship, and no matter what she wishes, that’s all there ever will be.”

He lets go and starts walking, heading for the back door of the dorm facing the sidewalk. I trail him by a step, not willing to get nearer. My head buzzes with what he said, and my heart twists for Liz and her hopeless infatuation. I want to ask him why again, but I’ve already butted in enough, made enough of a fool of myself for one night.

We get to the door, and I slip my key from my pocket. He stands against the wall with his arms crossed and head back, facing the sky, taking in a deep breath of the night air. Maybe he needs to clear my stupidity from his head.

Putting the key in the lock, I pause. “I’m sorry for calling you an asshole. I had no right to bring up the subject of Liz. As you said, we’d already covered that.”

He flashes a quick look at me and nods his head.

I take in a deep sigh of regret and push the door open. But he stops me.

“It’s not all your fault. I was flirting, and you were looking out for a friend.”

He pauses, giving me that same curious stare. “I can respect that, even as misguided as you were.”

Warmth floods me. His expression intensifies, and before I know it, he’s looking like the big bad wolf again—unless it’s my overactive imagination. But he seems to be staring at my mouth.

Until he turns abruptly and mutters goodbye, then walks off into the night with that quick-paced, graceful way he has. I stand there watching, shamelessly, appreciating his honesty, appreciating his gentlemanliness, and appreciating his physical power.

As soon as he blends into the darkness, I shake my head and close the door behind me. Running up the stairs, I don’t know whether to be relieved that he’s gone, or sad for Liz, or ashamed of myself for appreciating anything about the guy I can’t stop thinking about, the guy my old best friend wants so desperately—whether she can have him or not.