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“Yes.” But saying it makes me feel stupid. Makes me doubt… everything.
“But he hasn’t kissed you?”
I shake my head.
Tess looks at me like I just admitted to believing in the Easter Bunny. “What do you guys do then?”
I shrug. “Talk. Read to each other. Hang out.”
“He reads to you?” She sits up straight her chair so she can set her drink down. “Conner Gilroy is your boyfriend and reads to you?”
“Sometimes I read to him,” I say, feeling defensive. It seems ridiculous now. All the time we’ve spent together and the most he’s done is touch my ankle and tease me about my freckles. It makes me feel foolish.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks.
I shrug. “You don’t like him,” I say, even though that’s not the reason why. I didn’t tell her because she saying it out loud makes it real. Making it real makes it vulnerable. Makes it matter.
“But I don’t not like him,” she says. “There’s a difference.”
I make a noncommittal sound in the back of my throat, hoping I sound more casual than I feel.
“Wait—did he tell you to keep it quiet?” She sounds like it makes her angry, the thought that Conner wouldn’t want anyone to know about us.
“No,” I tell her, shaking my head. “I’m the one who doesn’t want anyone to know about us.”
“Why?”
“I—” I shrug, taking a drink from the cold can in my hand. “I don’t want Ryan to know,” I say like I actually think Ryan would care. These days, my brother hardly acknowledges my existence. To think he’d care that I’m dating his best friend is ridiculous. Ryan doesn’t care about anything these days, least of all me.