“I know you're working on a paper right now and we just saw each other last night, but do you want to go get dinner?” Vanessa practically shouted into the phone.
“What, like right now?” Jordy asked.
“Yes. Now.” Tantric chanting emanated from the living room, where Vanessa's parents were hosting a gathering of artist friends for an evening of “sparking the creative flint.” Whatever the hell that meant. “I can meet you somewhere in your neighborhood,” she offered. “Anywhere is fine.”
“Wow,” Vanessa said when she arrived. Despite its name, Bubba's—an Italian place near Columbia—was actually nice. She'd expected tables covered with red-and-white-checked plastic tablecloths and sides of fries served with every dish. Instead, the tablecloths were white, and there were candles and old jazz playing. It was only five-thirty, and the restaurant was empty. But even that was that romantic, in a very traditional way.
Jordy was already seated at a table and had ordered a bottle of red wine. The waiter took Vanessa's black wool jacket and helped her into her chair. “I feel so mature.”
Jordy shrugged like he was used to this. After all, he was in college. “I like your lipstick.”
Vanessa couldn't tell if he was joking or not. Jordy wore a constant pleasantly arrogant expression, making it extremely difficult to gauge his emotions. If only his nose acted as some sort of barometer, getting longer or shorter depending on his mood.
Not that she really wanted his nose to get any longer.
“My parents are having some sort of freak-fest chanting session with a bunch of other so-called artists in our apartment.” Vanessa told him, scowling as she opened her napkin and put it on her lap. “I can't wait for them to leave.”
Jordy took a sip of wine, pressing his thin lips together as if he really enjoyed the taste of it. His expensive glasses were on the table, and Vanessa saw for the first time that his eyes were light golden brown, like a lion's.
Way to notice a boy's eye color after you've already kissed him!
“I think your parents are amazing,” he said. “I mean, it takes a lot of effort and courage to be that … out there.”
Vanessa's thick brown eyebrows shot up. “I'll say.” She scraped her chair forward and put her elbows on the table. “You know, when I was little I was a scab-picker. Any little nick or insect bite I'd pick away at until it bled and bled. And you know what my mom said? She said I ought to save the scabs so my dad could make a piece of artwork out of them. Isn't that just the most insanely twisted thing you've ever heard? I mean, most moms would be worried about scarring, or they'd take their kid to a shrink. My parents, all they care about is themselves and their ‘work.’”
Jordy shrugged. “Maybe she was joking.”
Vanessa frowned and opened her menu. Antipasti, primi, secondi, dolci. Joking? She'd never heard her mother be remotely jocular. “I don't think so.”
Jordy watched her as she scrutinized the menu. “Still, I really admire them. I mean, the way they're letting you and your sister live on your own. Not many parents would do that.”
“No. Not many would,” Vanessa agreed with a scowl.
“I'd kind of like to go up to Vermont and see how they live,” Jordy added eagerly.
Vanessa looked up from her menu in alarm. “Why?”
“I don't know. I haven't met that many people who are … you know … different. I'm just curious, I guess.” He took a sip of wine and did that thing with his lips again. “So, my mom kind of mentioned that you had a pretty serious boyfriend. Is that, like, all over, or what?”
Vanessa flipped her menu closed without deciding on anything. She wasn't really hungry, anyway—she'd just wanted to get out of the house. “Yeah, it's over. We're not even friends anymore.” Normally her voice had a bitter fuck-you bite to it, but just now it had quavered with emotion. “Not that I mind,” she added tartly.
The waiter came and Vanessa ordered a salad. She felt like one of those skinny blond girls in her class at Constance who only ate dry lettuce and Jell-o.
Jordy ripped a piece of bread off the hunk in the basket on the table. “So did you break up with him, or the other way around?” With long, delicate fingers he dunked the bread in the little bowl of olive oil.
She'd never really thought about who'd broken up with whom. In fact, there'd never been an official breakup. After she'd caught Dan fooling around with that Mystery Craze person on stage in a poetry club, she'd refused to return his phone calls. If anyone had broken up with anyone, she'd broken up with him. But did that mean that maybe he hadn't meant to break up with her at all?
It was almost too confusing to think about.
“I-I guess I sort of inadvertently broke up with him,” she stammered. “I mean, he was cheating on me.” It felt weird talking to another guy about her relationship with Dan. It felt weird talking to someone else period, since the only person she'd ever really talked to was Dan himself. But Jordy's arrogant sincerity was just that: sincere. And it was kind of hard to cop an attitude in the face of all that sincerity. Vanessa felt her lower lip begin to tremble as tears welled up in her big brown eyes. Oh God. She hated it when she cried, especially in public. What was wrong with her?
There, there. It's happened to the best of us.
Jordy put his glasses back on. “I'm sorry. We don't have to talk about this if you don't want to.” His wan cheeks flushed. “I was kind of only asking for selfish reasons, anyway.” He took off his glasses again and set them carefully on the table next to the olive oil. Then he lifted his gaze, his golden eyes gazing straight into hers. “I really like you, Vanessa.”
Miles Davis was playing and the candles flickered. All of a sudden Vanessa felt like she was starring in one of those badly made romantic films that most girls cried over and she couldn't stand. “I like you, too,” she sobbed, mortified. If she were with Dan, she would have suddenly burst out laughing and told him to go fuck himself for making her cry. But Jordy wasn't Dan. If she told him to go fuck himself, he'd probably do it.
Well, not literally. But we know what she means.
She wiped her damp face on her white linen napkin, smearing Ruby's lipstick all over it. “Sorry. I guess my parents are really stressing me out.” She put down her napkin and took a gulp of water. “So tell me something about Columbia. Like, what's your favorite course?”
As if she genuinely cared. It was pretty obvious now that Jordy was only interested in her because her parents were alternative, and she was only interested in him because he was so completely unalternative. Besides, her mind was too occupied with its most recent download to pay attention to a word of Jordy's reply. And the information her mind was so busy processing was that she was still in love with Dan.