Smart Girl

by Rachel Hollis

  “Miko.” She cuts me off again. “Wake up! He’s not dating you. Dating would imply that he acknowledged you to us even once. He’s hooking up with you. He’s keeping you a secret. It’s not about him being dishonest; it’s about him being disrespectful. And why in the world would you let him get away with it?”

  Blood is pounding in my ears. I take in a gulp of air to try to clear my head. I need to try to think of what I can say. I need to explain how it’s not like that at all, but she’s still ranting.

  “I am pissed. I am super freaking pissed that you’ve let yourself be put in this situation! You’ve been ditching us and messing up at work. You have dark circles under your eyes and—” She stops walking and looks right at me. “And you’re here on Christmas. How many times have you told me how special Christmas is for your family? How many times have you told us about the Mexican Bus tournament—”

  “It’s Mexican Train.”

  “Whatever! How many times have you talked about the gifts and the food and the board games and the champagne tasting you guys do on Christmas Day?”

  The guilt I’ve been fighting since last night—since last month, really—comes bubbling to the surface and makes me feel like I’m drowning. Her angry words slam into me, making my heart pound harder with every sentence.

  “Because December was when your mom found out she was cancer-free. I know this because we’ve done three walks for breast cancer awareness in the last year alone. I’ve heard the story so many times I could tell it myself. December was the month she went into remission, and that year you celebrated Christmas for days because you were so grateful to know you’d have so many more as a family. It’s a really big deal in your family. What in the hell are you doing here?”

  I open my mouth to respond, but I’m afraid a sob will come out. It takes me a few tries to answer.

  “I’m allowed to change my plans,” I tell her lamely.

  The look that comes over her face then is so angry I flinch. She turns away to stare at the ocean, and when she finds her voice to speak again, the sadness in it devastates me. “But not your life.” She turns around to stare at me. “You can change your plans. But you don’t change your life around for a man who won’t commit to anything more than a sleepover.”

  I have to look down at my lap rather than see the disappointment on her face. I need time to process all the things she’s said. I thought I was coming out here to apologize for sneaking around her back. But she’s actually mad because she feels like I’m letting myself be taken advantage of. The words take root in my stomach, making me feel sick. The things she’s saying are exactly like Landon said . . . and my brother said . . . and my mom said too. For the first time in months—no, more than that, for the first time in almost a year I wonder if maybe I don’t see this relationship with Liam for what it really is. I reach up to touch the necklace again.

  No. I shake the ugly thought away. I know what we have. I know who he is. I trust the feelings that are between us. I have to clear my throat to speak, but I’m proud of how strong my voice sounds when I do.

  “You don’t understand.” I look right at her. “I know it’s not conventional and we didn’t go about it the normal way, but we are in a relationship.”

  Another sad shake of her head. “You’re too far inside the forest to see the trees, and I know that you’re not going to listen to me. But I also know my brother and how hard he’s fought to keep himself unattached all these years. He’s awesome and I love him. He’s also incredibly selfish. What he wants takes precedence over what anyone else does.”

  “That’s not true—”

  Her eyes narrow.

  “Really? Then let me ask you this: the holiday with your family, the games and the presents and the special meaning behind them. Does Liam know that story?”

  I stare at her in confusion, unsure of how to answer or why she’s asking. Liam doesn’t know about that; we’ve never discussed it before.

  “You’re allergic to walnuts, you speak Japanese, you volunteer once a week teaching charcoal drawing to elementary school students. How about those things? Does he know any of that?”

  I am mute. I shake my head.

  “You’re giving him everything, and he doesn’t even know the most basic information about you. You left your family to be with him today. Did he even ask you about them? Did he even wonder what you might have been doing instead?”

  Now I’m the one looking blindly at the ocean—at anything at all besides the pity in her eyes.

  “Last summer when things were really bad, you told me to stop being an idiot. I’m going to say the same thing to you now: stop being an idiot. Open your eyes and look at the facts in front of you. Please do not be this cliché.”

  The problem with not being able to see the forest for the trees is that it’s easy to lose your way the second you’re on your own. I know in my heart that I should at least think through some of the things Max said. But then we go back inside, and it is still Christmas and everyone is doing their damndest to pretend it isn’t awkward now that they know about me and Liam. It is easier for me to pretend too.

  So we fall back into a familiar routine that day. He and I act just like we always do when we’re in a group, which is to say, we barely acknowledge each other at all. I don’t blame Liam when he has to leave that afternoon to go spend time with his mother, though I am the only one who knows how hard it is for him to do it.

  Later that night he texts to tell me that he is going to drive back to LA rather than go back to his parents’ vacation place, and even that I can’t blame him for. I wish I could leave too, but that would have added more drama to the situation. The next day the guys go golfing, down a fourth member due to Liam’s absence, and the ladies basically lounge around watching movies on the giant TV in the den. I suspect movies were the easy choice, because watching a screen is better than interacting awkwardly; Max and I don’t really know what to say to each other.

  I drive back to LA the day after, feeling utterly exhausted emotionally. Tosh is still at my parents’ house, and I haven’t spoken to any of them yet to apologize. I recognize that I have been hiding out, but it is so much easier than the alternative. I take a shower when I get home and am just changing into pajamas when my phone buzzes.

  A text, just like every other time. On the one hand, I am kind of shocked that he would so casually fall right back into our regular routine. On the other hand, part of me is relieved. No matter what Max thinks, nobody really knows what goes on between me and Liam other than the two of us. I have managed to upset almost everyone I care about in some way or another over the last month. When I am with Liam, I only ever seem to make him happy. And he makes me happy too. It isn’t even a question. I text him back that I am on my way.

  “You’re going to Twenty-Five on Thursday, right?” I ask him later.

  We are lying in his bed playing cards when I remember to mention everyone’s plans for New Year’s Eve. He slides a card out of the draw pile and puts it into the stack in his hand.

  “I am. Though I’m curious why everyone doesn’t want to go to a different place this time. We have several other options.”

  I frown at my cards and draw two from the pile. “Because it’s tradition, and we all had so much fun last year. And it has special meaning for Brody and Landon.”

  He’d told her later it was the first time he’d seen her and known he wanted to make her his. I want to tell Liam that it has special meaning for the two of us as well, but I’m not sure how he’d take that. The idea makes me sad, and I reach up to touch the necklace I still haven’t taken off.

  “How come you’ve never asked me about my tattoos?” I ask suddenly.

  He looks confused. “I love your tattoos.”

  “I know, but they’re pretty unique. I’m just surprised you’re not curious about what they mean.”

  He considers me
for a moment. “I didn’t want to pry.”

  I wish I thought that were the truth, but since he hasn’t asked about anything else either, I’m worried that’s just a nice way of saying he didn’t want to know.

  “My mom”—when I realize I’ve never even said her name to him before, my throat nearly closes—“Katherine—was diagnosed with breast cancer six years ago.” His eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn’t say anything. “My family is really close, and we were devastated by the news. There was chemo and surgeries, and she was so freaking strong throughout the whole thing.” My eyes water at the memory. “We wanted to come up with something we could do as a family in solidarity. There’s a Japanese legend about paper cranes—have you heard it?”

  He shakes his head.

  “It’s an old legend that says if you fold a thousand paper cranes, you would be granted one wish. All of us had only one wish in the world, and that was for her to get better. It sounded like the perfect choice for us. Me, Tosh, and my dad went to get the tattoos at night while Gran stayed with my mom. We each got two hundred and fifty—which took forever and hurt so bad.” I run my fingers down my side, where two hundred and fifty teeny-tiny colorful paper cranes swirl across my skin. “Tosh got his on his back, and Dad got his across his chest—over his heart, he said. Theirs aren’t colorful like mine. Not sure they were manly enough to handle the pain.” I wink at him, and I’m surprised to see how uncomfortable he looks. “When we showed her what we’d done, she must have cried for days.”

  “I’m sure she was touched,” he says stiffly.

  “No, she was livid. She hated tattoos, said we’d all marred our perfect skin and we’d regret it later.” I can’t help but smile. “When she went into remission, she got the last of the cranes tattooed along her side.”

  It’s a good story. One of my favorites to tell, and I expect him to be charmed. I expect him to ask me more questions or tell me something about himself that I don’t already know. But that’s not what happens. What happens is that he says something charming about needing to inspect my tattoos in further detail. He rains down kisses on my skin and praise for how beautiful I am, and for the first time since we’ve been together, all of it feels wrong.

  Chapter FOURTEEN

  I walk down the hallway towards Max and Landon’s apartment just like I did last year on this night. This time around I’ve got on a tight black minidress, which I know Liam will love. Even if I’ve been feeling weird about us this week, that didn’t mean my feelings for him are less intense or that I don’t want him to think I look crazy hot on New Year’s Eve. So I’m rocking big hair and great makeup, and I even put on the black pumps he loves so much. On the way out the door, though, I imagined the suck factor of wobbling along all night in those too-tall shoes, and I swapped them for my high-heel wedge sneakers. When I get to their door, I knock on it with the bottom of the champagne in my hand.

  Max is the one who answers the door, and we end up standing there staring at each other. I hate feeling this way. We might be a lot of things, but awkward around each other isn’t one of them.

  “Are we still fighting?” I ask with fake petulance.

  She smirks. “I don’t know. Are you still acting like a jackass?”

  “Probably.”

  “So long as you’re aware of it.” She moves aside. “Come on in.”

  I follow her into their kitchen with a smile on my face. That is the Mackenzie Jennings version of kissing and making up, and that’s likely as good as it’s going to get with her.

  We head into the kitchen, and I watch while she opens the bubbly and pours it into juice glasses for us.

  “I like your dress,” I tell her.

  She looks down at the bright-blue dress she has on. It’s made of layers of shredded silk. One might go so far as to suggest the skirt almost, almost looks ballerina inspired. It’s her style but with a softer effect than she ever would have worn before.

  “Thanks.” She turns towards the back of the apartment. “Landon, if you put any more mascara on your lashes, you’re actually going to weigh them down rather than boost them up. Get out here!”

  Landon yells something neither of us can make out and then hurries down the hallway in a tiny gold dress. I’m actually kind of startled to see her in it.

  “Not that I’m judging, but didn’t you wear that dress last New Year’s?” I ask as she makes a beeline for the glass of champagne waiting for her on the countertop.

  She runs a hand down the sequins with a soft smile. “I know. I hate to repeat myself, but Brody asked me to wear it again.”

  “Here we go,” Max grumbles.

  Landon’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh really? And who bought the dress you’re wearing tonight, Mackenzie?”

  Both Max and I give her odd looks.

  “Dude, why are you using her full name?”

  Landon smiles and then laughs. “I don’t know. I was trying to be funny . . . and also, I started drinking an hour ago, so my humor barometer might be a little off.”

  Gods, I love these weirdos!

  I hold up my juice glass in salute. “To Sandra?”

  They smile in unison, and we clink glasses to the oddball toast we made up when our friendship was still new. “To Sandra!”

  I can already tell this night is going to be epic.

  Brody meets us at the door to Twenty-Five, and the crowd of people there part for him like Moses and the Red Sea. Probably because he owns this club and has made an incredible reputation for himself as an arbiter of cool, sophisticated venues—also because he has a security guy with him who looks bigger than the magical prisoner in The Green Mile.

  “You’re looking dapper this evening, pal,” I tell Brody as I lean up to give him a hug. He smiles down at his dark suit; it’s a perfect compliment to Landon’s dress.

  “Thanks, so do you.”

  As we head through the club en masse, Taylor comes down the stairs from the VIP section. His suit is a charcoal gray cut slim, sort of Mad Men style, and he’s rocking a skinny tie. I’ve never seen him dressed up before. It’s totally adorable. He gives Landon and me a hug and then leans in close to whisper something in Max’s ear before kissing her there. She grins and beams at him with total unrestrained joy. I know for a fact she never imagined this for herself. I am so happy for them.

  We walk up the stairs to the VIP area and the lounge we’re commandeering for the evening. I couldn’t care less what my friends do for a living. If Brody were a manager at Chick-fil-A, I’d still love him simply because he made my best friend so happy. But on a night like this? It’s pretty flipping cool to know the guy who can hook you up with a lounge that typically requires A-list celebrity status or an Amex black card.

  The club is pulsating with music and people, and the energy is electric. I’m sure my hair is growing bigger by the second. A server hurries over to Brody and starts taking everyone’s drink order, but Landon is already bouncing to the music. One more drink and she’ll be bringing out her sprinkler or a really bad rendition of the Dougie.

  We slide onto the sofa just as Malin shimmies her way over with Casidee. They both look gorgeous tonight, and I tell them so, though Malin’s outfit is a surprising change of pace.

  “You do look so pretty, Mali,” Landon tells her uncertainly. “But is that . . . Are you wearing your sister’s shirt?”

  Malin smiles proudly and stands up to show off her outfit.

  “Do you like it?” she asks us happily.

  A worn-out Jesse and the Rippers T-shirt with a hole in the sleeve is half tucked into silk ankle-length skinny slacks and designer heels that are a mile high. She looks gorgeous, even if it’s not the short designer dress we’re used to seeing her in on a night like this.

  “It’s my new style.”

  “It’s fabulous,” I tell her sincerely.

  Everyone else agrees, just as
the server arrives with our drinks in record time—which I suppose makes sense, since Brody is the one signing paychecks. We settle in to hang out. I sent a text to Liam letting him know we were a few minutes away. I wonder why he’s not here yet. I really can’t wait to see what he’s wearing. Is it a suit? Is it classically cut like Brody’s or more stylish like the one Taylor has on? I take a quick swig of my cocktail just as the opening beats of a Lady Gaga song come on. It’s New Year’s, the drinks are strong, and Gaga is bringing her A-game. There’s only one option here.

  I jump up and grab Landon’s hand to pull her with me to the dance floor.

  We dance forever. At some point every member of our group comes to join us. Even Max lets Taylor drag her up for a song, which is a miracle in and of itself. They all come in for a while here or there, but nobody can hang on a dance floor like my girl Landon and I can. We laugh and dance and make up routines. We do shots with a group of girls celebrating a bachelorette party and pretend we know how to break-dance until a guy who actually knows how to break-dance comes out and shuts us down. When we finally head back to the lounge area, we each grab bottles of water and collapse in a heap with our friends.

  “Fifteen minutes, everyone! We’ve got fifteen minutes until the countdown!” the DJ calls out over the music.

  Fifteen minutes? How did it get to be so late? Where is Liam? He was supposed to meet us here, but I haven’t heard from him. I start to panic a little. Did something happen with his mom again? I grab my clutch and pull out my phone. I must stare at his text message for a full minute before I can process what I’m reading.

  Not going to be able to make it tonight, I’m meeting up with some friends. Have fun, I’ll text you later.

  My joy, which was so encompassing a moment ago, deflates like an old balloon. He’s not going to make it? But it’s New Year’s Eve and everyone is here and . . . wouldn’t he want to spend this night with me? I know we’re not together together, but I was looking forward to finally having a date—sort of—on New Year’s. And friends? What friends does he have besides the ones assembled here? I’m sure there are other people he hangs out with, but none of them are better friends than the ones at this table.