She Loves You, She Loves You Not... by Julie Anne Peters Read Free Book Online Page A

or anyone to call even if I did.
    Ice cubes clink into a glass. “You should’ve called me. I would’ve rescheduled my appointments for the day, and we could’ve driven to Vail, maybe. Gone shopping.” She returns with two glasses of bubbly liquid, a lime wedge in each. Mine tastes like 7-Up, nonalcoholic. Hers is amber-colored.
    “Wow. What are you watching?” she asks, lowering herself to the sofa.
    Shit. I get up to retrieve the TV remote from the coffee tableand thumb the power off. Did she see the girls kissing on Logo, rolling around in the sand? I’ll have to be careful what I watch on cable. Dad would have a heart attack if he knew there was a gay TV station.
    “I don’t watch a lot of TV,” Carly says, curling her legs under her. “What shows do you like?” With her fingernails, she swirls the ice cubes in her glass.
    “I don’t know. A couple of soaps.
Gossip Girl
.” Dad hates all those “trashy” shows. And if there’s a gay character, forget it.
    Carly turns and looks at me, at the side of my face, until I feel blood rush to my cheeks. “I wish I still had your skin. Come. Sit.” She pats the sofa.
    “I have stuff to do,” I mumble.
    Carly says at my back, “Are we ever going to talk about it?”
    My heart pummels my chest. I promised myself I’d always be out from now on, but the situation scares me. My friends have all ditched me. My family. I have a little savings left, but not enough to get an apartment or anything.
    She adds, “You know I don’t have a problem with you being lesbian or bisexual.”
    I whirl. “I’m not bisexual.”
    “I have lots of gay friends. Your father is just so narrow-minded and—” The cell in her purse buzzes again, and she holds up an index finger. She checks the ID and answers, “This is Carly.” She listens. “Well, how are you, stranger? It’s been a while. A massage?” She crosses her eyes at me and rolls her shoulder. “I think I can fit you in.” She gets up and walks past me, pressing a palm against my cheek, and then bounds up the stairs, laughing at something the caller said.
    This enormous weight lifts off my shoulders, and I think,
Wow. My whole life would’ve been different if I’d grown up with Carly.
    But she didn’t want kids, I guess. Specifically me.
    Sarah wanted kids. She talked about it all the time, how much she wanted kids, how scared she was she’d never live a normal life. I kept telling her just because you’re lesbian doesn’t mean you can’t have children.
    “Yeah, but it isn’t easy,” she said. “It isn’t… natural.”
    Ben was there. “What isn’t natural?” he interjected. “The sperm meets the egg. They exchange vows. Who cares how it happens?”
    Sarah laughed. When was that? Was that when it started?
    Carly tramps down the stairs, her hair freshly combed and banded with a scrunchie into a ponytail. She says, “He’s a big tipper. Otherwise I’d blow him off.”
    Did she have to use that expression? “That’s okay.” I shrug. “You have to work.”
    Her eyes nail me, like she caught the undertone in my voice. “I won’t be long.” She heads for the door and then stops. “Oh. Wait. I won’t be home. I have to dance tonight at Willy’s. I’ve totally lost track of time. Does that ever happen to you?”
    “Yeah,” I say. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not like you’ll get grounded.”
    She laughs as she closes the door behind her.
    December
    Dad ambushed you when you eased open the front door at one AM . “Do you know what time it is, young lady?”
    “I lost track,” you said, out of breath after running home from Gracie Field. “Sorry.”
    “You’re grounded.” He stormed up the stairs.
    “For how long?” You ran after him.
    “Until I say.”
    Bastard.
    You stalked to your room and yanked off your coat, threw it onto the floor. Threw all your clothes on top of it, cursing him. Why was he so hard on you? Everything you did, you did to please him. You studied hard to