You and Me and Him by Kris Dinnison Read Free Book Online Page A

enough to reveal each guy’s identity in a heartbeat. But the important part to Nash is what he writes there. He once described it to me as “an anatomical study of unrequited love.” He starts with what he likes about the guy, then as the crush evolves he adds to it, until the end, when he writes down why his feelings went away. He says it’s a Crushology book, a way for him to know himself well enough to be able to identify the real thing when it comes along someday. When the stars align and he finds his match.
    “Anyway, I can’t help who I care about,” Nash says, his voice quiet and serious now. “And I can’t make someone love me back. I survived my dad leaving, and my mom too, in a way. If Tom’s not into guys, it won’t be the first time someone who mattered to me didn’t want me. Or the last. I’ll survive it.”
    Between the two of us, Nash and I have had more unreciprocated crushes than Cedar Ridge has stoplights. And if there’s one thing it has taught me, it’s that you don’t die of a broken heart. Nash is right; he’ll survive. We both will. I bump him with my shoulder, and he bumps me back. We swing for a few minutes in silence before going home.

    As I pass my parents’ bedroom on my way upstairs, my mom calls out, “Maggie, come in here.” Mom is propped on the bed, student papers in tidy piles on either side of her. She frowns. “What’s wrong?”
    I paste on a smile. “Nothing,” I say. “Why?”
    “You look . . .” She waves a hand up and down at me. “Maybe it’s your posture. Stand up straight, honey! It’ll take ten pounds off you like that.” She snaps her fingers.
    I don’t say a word.
    “Sorry. Where have you been, anyway?” she asks.
    “With Nash, in the park,” I answer. “Swinging.”
    “Oh, good. How’s Nash?” she says.
    “Nash is fine.” I wait. “Mom? Did you need something?”
    “Hmmm?” she says, already distracted by her papers again. “Oh, your laundry’s in the dryer. Make sure you get it out before you go to bed or everything will be wrinkled.”
    “Yep, I sure will, Mom.” I give her a big thumbs-up and a cheesy smile. Pulling the door shut behind me, I wander to the kitchen to see what I missed for dinner. Chicken, veggies, and rice. Again.
    I think about baking more cookies, but I have too much homework and my conversation with Nash has made me weary and unsettled. I forage in the cupboards for something starchy and sweet. The closest I come is a box of Cheerios, so I fill a bowl, pour the milk, and scoop sugar on top. Sitting at the counter I think about Nash and Tom until I hear the spoon scraping the bottom of the dish. I don’t even remember eating the cereal.
    I haul my laundry from the dryer, groaning as I dump it on my bed upstairs. About halfway through folding it, I transfer the pile to my chair and keel over onto my bed. I think about doing my homework, but before I can reach for my backpack, I’m asleep.

Chapter 7
    Between work and school and listening to Nash ramble on about Tom, the week crawls by. When Saturday arrives, I am more than ready for some time in the woods. The sun reaches through the trees, dappling the road to the trailhead as it winds through the park. I’m half hoping Tom will have gotten lost along the way. I’m not an antisocial person, but I like to hike alone. When I was younger, our chocolate Lab, George, went with me so my parents wouldn’t worry. By the time he died a couple years ago, they were so used to me going off into the woods, they kind of forgot that I didn’t have a hiking partner anymore.
    Rounding the corner to the parking lot, I sigh when I see Tom waving. There’s no car, so I wonder how he got up here and realize I should have offered to drive him. I pull Mom’s Subaru into a space and kill the engine.
    “Hey!” Tom says. “I got here a little early. What a spot!” He’s beaming, and I find I’m actually a little psyched to show him the trail.
    “How did you get up