Page 85 of The Fix-Up

After sliding his glasses on, he crossed his arms. Stern, Principal Gil expression clicked into place. Except for a second, his gaze hit my eyes, and it wasn’t anger or annoyance there; it was confusion, a sadness that was unexpected. Then he looked away.

But it was enough. Enough to make me wonder if stern Gil was just a cover for the real Gil. That Gil was a little uncertain, the one who didn’t have all the answers.

“You aren’t going to tell me, are you?”

Maybe it was unreasonable to expect that from him. Just like it was unreasonable to think my problems, my dreams, were bigger than his. It seemed an impossible decision. In the end, one of us would win. And that meant the other person would lose.

“I’m going to try to get some sleep,” I said, suddenly very tired. My head on the pillow, I curled up and closed my eyes. I was asleep within minutes. Gil never said a word.

THIRTY-THREE

Love is a complex emotion that involves affection, care, and commitment to someone or something.

—BRILEY J., AGE 16

ME: What does it mean if you get locked in a bedroom overnight with a guy and you wake up wrapped around each other like pretzels?

ALI:

MAE: Would this man happen to be a certain roommate of yours?

ME: Asking for a FRIEND, of course. FOR A FRIEND.

ALI: Are you the friend? IS THE FRIEND YOU?

My eyes popped open at 1:47a.m. I knew this because the only light in the room came from the glow of a digital clock two feet from my face. I still had two hours and thirteen more minutes to sleep. I closed my eyes, hoping to return to the dream I’d been in the middle of—the one where Gil is fixing a broken pipe under the kitchen sink, if you know what I mean.

Again, not a euphemism. He was there with his toolbelt, laying on the ground, partially tucked under the sink, looking all handyman hot, and he was?—

My eyes snapped back open. I didn’t own a digital clock.

I tried to sit up, but an arm was wrapped around my waist, big and solid, warm. I swallowed a gasp as the where and why clicked into place.

I forced myself to breathe normally, though my heart felt like it was ready to burst out of my chest. Last night came back in pieces. Oliver locking us in here. Talking to Gil. Getting annoyed with Gil. Falling asleep. Waking up at some point to see Gil sitting on the floor surrounded by folders from the file cabinet. Yelling at him to turn the light off and go to sleep.

Obviously, I was missing a few pieces. I did not remember the part where Gilbert Dalton and I started cuddling. I felt like I should remember that.

“Gil,” I whispered.

His fingers flexed into the strip of exposed skin between my shorts and t-shirt. Every part of my body felt as tense as a bowstring.

I cleared my throat. The leg slung over mine shifted, tucking me closer to him. I hadn’t been this close to a man in so long. That the man was Gil made it feel strangely safe. A shiver raced through me.

“Gil,” I said a little louder.

“Go to sleep,” he mumbled.

“Gilbert Dalton!” I wiggled and squirmed until I’d turned around to face him.

“Stop moving.” With a frustrated groan, he pulled me closer until my face was pressed against his t-shirt. He smelled warm and sleepy.

This was bad, so, so bad. Our conversation earlier was a reminder; Gil and I had very different plans, plans that were insuch opposition to each other, it wouldn’t end nicely. Like every other time I let myself fall for a man. But that didn’t change the fact that I wanted to stay right there where I was surrounded by warm, strong arms and pretend it meant something it didn’t. It took epic amounts of superhuman self-restraint not to do that. I deserved a medal or something.

“You asked for it.” I pinched him like my mother did to me when I couldn’t sit still in church on Sunday mornings.

He shot up, his head knocking into mine in the process. “What the…”

“Ouch!” Glaring, I sat up slowly and rubbed my head. “That hurt.”

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