Page 101 of Intermission
Classic Gretchen.
“Oh, don’t look so murderous. I’m kidding. Even if I chased, I don’t think I’d catch one like him.”
I stir my cereal some more. “What’s wrong with Mr. Perfect?”
“Yeah, Noah’s pretty close to perfect. Maybetooperfect, if you know what I mean.” Gretchen drums her French manicure on the table top. “You know, Mom might be on to something there. I mean, when a guy seems that good, there’s usually something seriously wrong with him.”
“There’s nothing wrong with Noah. Please.” I roll my eyes. “But I wasn’t talking about him. I meant Justin the Great. Yourperfectboyfriend. The one our parents adore.”
“Oh.Him.” Gretchen purses her lips and looks out the window. “Yeah, they do love him. He’s purr-fect.” She says the word with distaste. “But... case in point.”
“Gretchen?” I bite my lip. Sure, Justin gives me the creeps a little, but is he worse than I thought? “Justin’s not, like, abusive or anything, is he?”
“Abusive?” Gretchen snorts. “Hardly. But thanks for asking.” She smiles, and I’m touched by the warmth, the tenderness of it. “That’s sweet. My little sister is worried about me.”
“I just don’t want you to get hurt by some stupid preppy jerk.” I wince when I realize how pointed that comment was toward Justin. “Uh, sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Gretchen laughs. “It’s actually refreshing to hear someone in this family call Justin a stupid jerk. Everyone else seems to think he’s God’s gift.”
“Where is he, anyway?”
“Still asleep, I guess. I don’t really care.”
“Oh. Are you guys . . . having problems?”
“Are we having problems? No. Everything is super. Just, super.” Gretchen taps her nails again. “Justin gets to show me off to all hisbuddies and impress his family that my dad’s a cardiologist. Woo-hoo.” She makes air circles with her index fingers. “And I get to bring him home and have Mom be happy about something I scored that doesn’t involve a volleyball. Yay for me.”
The way she says it doesn’t sound nearly as big-headed as it could have.
“Justin had thebesttime last night,” she says, her face a bright beacon of sarcasm. “I mean, who wouldn’t love having Janet Prescott take him around and introduce him to all the relatives, gushing about howwonderfulhe is and howgoodwe look together, and what a brightfuturehe has ahead of him and—”
When I giggle at her impression of Mom, Gretchen stops and grins.
“Mom was laying some pretty serious hints about engagement rings in Justin’s ear at the reception,” I say.
“Mom hadwaytoo much champagne. I could have strangled her.”
“You and me both. She made me dance with that one old guy. Great Uncle Fester or something.”
“Foster.” Laughter bubbles through Gretchen’s voice. “Great Uncle Foster. Yeah, he’s a winner.”
“He was trying to look down the front of my dress the whole time I was dancing with him!”
“That sounds about right.” Gretchen tilts back in her chair and laughs. “He’s a total perv. Mom used to make me dance with him, too, at the family weddings. But now I have Jus-tin.” She says his name in a singsong voice and draws an imaginary heart in front of her face.
“Lucky you. When I told Mom that Uncle Fes—UncleFosterwas a dirty old man, she compared him to Noah.”
“Ha!”
I give her my most poisonous glare, which I’m guessing is pretty scary for real this morning, once you factor in my sleepless night.
“Aw, Faithy.” She pats my arm. “Mom had too much champagne. She didn’t mean it. Probably.” She frowns. “Eat. Your cereal’s getting soggy.”
“I’m not really hungry.” I slump back in my chair. “Noah’s leaving for London in three days, and I didn’t even get to say good-bye.”
“You really like him that much?”
“Yes, I like him ‘that much.’ He’s my best friend.” I inhale a shaky breath. “But it’s more than that, Gretch.” My eyes burn. “I love him. I really do love him.”
