E. Lockhart - Real Live Boyfriends

And then again, it’s just lip gloss.

I brought out a box of Band-Aids with pictures of sushi on them, along with some antibiotic ointment. Gideon showed me a spot on his calf where the wakeboard had flipped and sliced him. It wasn’t big, but it would need two Band-Aids to cover it.

“Are you a sushi fan?” Gideon asked.

“No,” I said truthfully. “I just like silly Band-Aids. I got these at Archie McPhee. They have pirate ones and bacon ones, too.”

I squeezed some ointment on my finger.

Gideon looked surprised. “You don’t have to do that,” he said.

“Oh,” I said, embarrassed.” You’re probably capable of putting a Band-Aid on yourself, aren’t you?

“I am experienced in that department.”

“It’s an impulse left over from babysitting.”

“Okay, go ahead.” He stuck out his leg. “So. You babysit?”

“Not anymore. I couldn’t take it. The kid I used to sit for was like a blood and vomit machine.”

Gideon laughed. “A patent on that idea could make a fortune.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Or his parents could just rent him out. Like whenever anyone needs blood or vomit, they could just come over and rent out Kai.”

All this while I was dabbing ointment on Gideon’s calf, which was tan and covered in light brown hair. I thought:

His skin is surprisingly soft.

But also hairy.

Gideon is practically an adult. I think he’s at least nineteen.

Is it horrible that I want to touch his leg?

I mean, Doctor Z says it’s completely normal at my age to have this level of Rabbit Fever, but what I really want to know is, am I being disloyal?

It is only ointment, after all.

And a Band-Aid.

Then again, I wouldn’t like it if Noel was spreading ointment on the bare calves of Ariel Olivieri.

Especially not if Ariel was wearing nothing but a bathing suit and a bead choker.

I was just putting a second Band-Aid on Gideon’s leg, and enjoying it more than I should have, when Hutch walked in from the greenhouse. I jerked back guiltily.

“Gideon Van Deusen,” Hutch announced, barely making eye contact while he went to the sink and filled his water bottle. “Rock on.”

Gideon looked blank. “Have we met?” he asked Hutch.

“This is John Hutchinson,” I said apologetically.

Hutch hopped up on the counter and swigged his water, still without making eye contact.

Gideon held out his hand. “Good to meet you.”

“We’ve met,” said Hutch, shaking it.

“I have a bad memory for faces.”

“We went to school together for ten years.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Gideon, obviously lying. “Out of context. Sorry.”

This is why Hutch is such a roly-poly. He has zero sense of what a warped little bunny he sounds like sometimes.

Yes, they had been at school together. But Gideon had graduated when we were freshmen, and seniors can’t be expected to recall every dorkface underclassman from three years ago. But there went Hutch, saying Gideon’s whole name like a semi-stalker, and then telling him to “Rock on,” not even saying hello like a normal person. And then what kind of conversationalist quick-calculates the number of years their Tate Prep careers overlapped and uses it to guilt the other person for not remembering?

“Did you finish getting the greenhouse set up?” I asked Hutch, to change the subject. “And is Dad presentable?”

“His face is dry, at least. And yeah. It looks pretty good in there.”

“Gideon’s boat ran out of gas,” I explained.

“Almost,” said Gideon.

We all stood around the kitchen for a moment. Not saying anything. Then Hutch said, “Nice lip gloss, Ruby,” jumped off the counter and went back outside.

What?

Why was he commenting on my lip gloss?

Since when did Hutch notice my lips anyway?

“Was that your boyfriend?” asked Gideon, plopping himself on our couch and stroking Polka’s ears.

“No,” I said, sitting down on the rocking chair. “Why?”

“He seemed a little tense is all.”

“He’s—he’s a friend of my boyfriend’s,” I explained. “He’s just being protective.”

Realizing: Oh. That’s what “Nice lip gloss” meant.

It meant, “Ruby, you’re going out with Noel, remember?”

“So you have a boyfriend?” Gideon asked. He leaned forward and touched the hem of my sundress with the tips of his fingers.

“I—I think I do,” I answered.

I have a boyfriend who doesn’t call me back, I thought.

I have a boyfriend who doesn’t answer my e-mails.

“You think, or you know?” asked Gideon, looking up at me.

“I don’t exactly know right now,” I said. “The thing—it’s hard to explain. The thing we have is somehow not the thing it was before.”

At that juncture, a shout of “Gas!” could be heard from the deck. The guys had come back and were going to refill the boat.

“You should call me,” Gideon said, standing up to leave. “When you know for sure.”

“For sure, what?”

“For sure you don’t have a boyfriend.”

“What if I do?” I asked. “I mean, I am pretty sure I do.”

“Then don’t call me.” He was standing in our doorway, silhouetted in the light. “But call me.”

Humiliation at Snappy Dragon!

a video clip:

Meghan sits in the window seat of her bedroom. The Tiffany blue wall behind her is decorated with photographs and mementos. Her silky curls are up on top of her head and she’s wearing one of Finn’s soccer T-shirts. Ruby: (behind the camera) What’s your definition of love? Meghan: I didn’t know you were going to ask hard questions . Roo: This is a serious documentary . Meghan: (twisting her hair with her fingers) Okay. Love is … Um. Love is this feeling. It’s a big feeling. It’s like listening to music, you know, like a ballad or even religious music—because it fills you up and you can’t think about anything but the other person and it all seems like a dream. Finn took me out in a canoe the other day, and we had a picnic and watched the sunset. That’s like love in action . Roo: Isn’t that love in the movies? Meghan: What do you mean? Roo: Isn’t real love something different? Meghan: I don’t think so. I think the movies are expressing the way love feels, the beauty of it . Roo: Sunsets and picnics. Really? Meghan: Don’t be cynical. I’ve been in love twice. I think I know how it feels . Roo: It doesn’t feel that way to me . Meghan: Doesn’t it? Roo: No . Meghan: Are you sure it’s love, then?

Hutch was going away. He was spending the first half of senior year on an exchange program in Paris, and I got the idea to have a goodbye party, partly to cheer up my dad and partly to be nice to Hutch. There weren’t many people to invite—just me, Noel, Meghan and my parents—but I thought it was a fine excuse for cake, and we could get him travel-type presents, like a French guidebook or a fanny pack.

Hutch in a fanny pack would be very amusing.

Anyway, he was leaving in late August, the day after Noel was supposed to come back from New York, so the party had to happen the night of Noel’s return. I decided we’d all go to Judy Fu’s Snappy Dragon, our favorite Chinese place, and then to Simply Desserts, where they have the most unbelievable white chocolate cake. I invited Hutch and Meghan, told my parents and sent Noel this e-mail: 7 pm, day you get back

Judy Fu’s, a goodbye thing for Hutch.

We can pick you up in the Honda if you need.