Page 60 of Happiness for Beginners

Jake shrugged and held out the piece of paper. “Wouldn’t want that bra of yours to be empty.”

Again with the flirting.

“Promise you won’t read it,” he said, “and it’s yours.”

“I won’t read it.” In truth, I didn’t even want it, but I was too surprised by the turn of events to marshal a protest. What did it mean for a boy to give you a poem you weren’t allowed to read? I had no idea.

He started to walk away. “Anyway. Sometimes it’s just nice to have something to hold on to.”

“What are you going to hold on to?” I called after him.

But he just shrugged. “I’ll think of something.”

***

I missed Windy immediately. Hugh had become a pal of mine, but he wasn’t much of a talker. All attempts at conversation fizzled, despite my efforts. It left me with no escape from Uno and Dosie as they prattled on and on, like a talk show I couldn’t turn off. They sang pop songs; they fantasized about shampoos and facial scrub; they debated endlessly about whether or not they were skinnier now; and they gossiped about everybody in our hiking group.

As we walked, Hugh fell in with the girls’ gossip, eventually taking the lead up front, and I fell to my old standby position of dead last.

To give them credit, I did learn a lot that morning. Mostly about the boys. Beckett had been recently dumped, as had Mason, but all the other guys were off the market, including Hugh, who they were sure was gay. “You’re gay, right?” one of the girls called up to Hugh.

“Yep,” he called back, without missing a step. “But single.”

“So, on the market—” Dosie said.

“Just notourmarket,” Uno finished.

It was decided that Mason was too juvenile, and Beckett was too crazy. So that left them in the unthinkable situation of having no romantic prospects. They lamented this at great length, revisiting the possibility of Mason over and over, since he was, after all, handsome. If only he’d turn around that backward baseball cap.

I was just wondering about Jake, and why he was on the unavailable list, when Hugh piped up. “What about J-Dog? He’s not seeing anyone.”

The girls let out long sighs. “It’s tragic,” Dosie said.

My ears perked up. What was tragic? Had he revealed something during Truth or Dare? Did these girls know something about Jake that I didn’t?

Hugh didn’t hold back. “What’s tragic?”

“Well,” Dosie said, “he is the best kisser in this entire group—”

“Amen to that,” said Uno.

Had theyallkissed him? What the hell had happened on that roof?

“But he’s taken.”

Taken?

“Taken?” Hugh asked.

My breathing deepened. What had he told them? Had he told them he was taken so they would lay off? Was he just saying that because he’d sworn off women, or whatever his deal was? Or did he actually think of himself as taken? Because—and here was the first time I’d admitted this, even to myself—Ifelt taken. By Jake. Even after all these ridiculous Being Strangers shenanigans. Even though I’d basically spent the past week fully ignoring him. Even though it was now looking like he was some kind of Truth or Dare kissing maniac. There wasn’t any way around it.

This was not what I’d come here for. I was not here to get wrapped up in some teenage-style romance. I was here for the power and beauty of nature. I was here to connect with something larger than myself. I was here for transformation, dammit! Toughness! Fierceness! Strength! But who was I kidding? Those things weren’t on offer here, anyway. That wasn’t to disparage the wilderness, which was truly awe-inspiring—but itwasto disparage everything else about this shallow, juvenile, mean-spirited, show-offy, deeply disappointing trip.

Had Jake said he was taken? Was he still flashing back to that night in the hotel as often as I was? I was dreaming about it, both awake and asleep. The memory of it had lodged in some central hub of my brain, so that almost everything I thought about sparked some association of that night with him. Brushing my teeth reminded me of how I’d brushed my teeth at the hotel with Jake. Going to sleep reminded me of going to sleep at the hotel across from Jake. Seeing people with books reminded me of the book Jake had been reading when I walked over to proposition him. And on and on. I couldn’t escape it. And maybe that wasn’t even a bad thing.

My heart gave a little shimmy at the thought of it. I didn’t have to turn into Chuck Norris. Or Pickle. I could meet Windy the aspiring dog psychologist and learn how to be happy, instead. Maybe, just maybe, I’d let Jake go ahead and join me.

But the girls were still talking. “Taken,” they confirmed in unison.

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