Ellie is Cool Now

Chapter 8

When I get home, it's nearly midnight and Mom is asleep on the couch with the TV on. It reminds me of when I spent long nights out with friends and she used to wait up for me. Our wild shenanigans always ended at a local 24-hour Starbucks where we'd goof off and do some late-night people watching. It was all fun and games until a few of my friends paired off with the baristas. Then it was just me at home alone with my cat.

I turn the TV off and cover my mom with a blanket before switching off the light. She snores lightly, oblivious to the world or to her nostalgically grateful daughter. I head upstairs.

Nobody tells you how lonely having a chronic crush can be sometimes. You're half in love with this person who doesn't know you exist and all other men seem to pale in comparison. You're stuck with a man your brain has invented, a fantasy land where you have the perfect relationship with the perfect guy who you can never actually talk to, lest he pop the bubble of his own perfection.

The worst part is, you never asked for any of it.

Your brain did this shit on its own.

I'm sure there's a clinical diagnosis for whatever the fuck my brain does when it likes someone, but I don't want to know what it is.

I've been sad and boyfriendless my whole life. Why stop now?

The beauty of being three time zones ahead of LA is that my night out is over before my friend's has even begun. I brush my teeth, hop into an old pair of pink cupcake pajamas, and climb into bed, hitting Vic's name on FaceTime as I get comfy on a stack of pink and white pillows.

Tina answers Vic's phone in two seconds flat. She's clearly riding in the back of an Uber.

"Vic's your favorite," she says, pretending to be hurt. "I knew it."

"You never answer your phone. Plus, you're always with Vic."

"Whatever." I watch Tina scrutinize her face in the phone. She digs in her bag and pulls out her lip gloss, then proceeds to use the phone as a mirror while she reapplies.

"Give us the dirt!" I hear Vic's voice, but I can't see him.

"Where are you guys going?"

"The Bungalow," Tina says. "Vic's idea. He's single and ready to mingle."

"You're going all the way to Santa Monica?"

"You're changing the subject!" Vic grabs the phone from Tina. He raises an eyebrow at the camera for dramatic effect. "Give us le scoop."

"Those language app French lessons have really paid off."

"ELLIE."

I let my smile curl like the coy ingenue that I am. "I spent pretty much the whole evening with Mark."

"Shut the front door." Vic squeals. Tina grabs the phone and checks her lip gloss job one more time.

"Did you kiss?" she asks, smacking her lips together.

"I think we almost kissed? But I don't know — not sure."

"How are you not sure?" Vic grabs the phone back. "Did he look longingly into your eyes until his eyes couldn't take it anymore and they trailed to you your lips—"

"Wow, you need to get laid," Tina interrupts. She grabs the phone again. "Did he stick his fucking tongue down your throat or not?"

"Not — but I think he wanted to," I say, snorting at them. Missing them, and secretly wishing they were going with me to the reunion.