SIT-UPS
Adam: 130
Livi: 20
CRUNCHES
Adam: 150
Livi: 30
PLANK
Adam: 90 seconds
Livi: “What the freak is a plank?”
Yeah … so … I’m pathetic.
xx
P.S. I remembered that Allegra and Co. are all at home for the holidays, so the mall is safe. Adam doesn’t know it yet, but he is assisting me with Project Retail Therapy in about an hour.
___________________________________
From: Alivia Howard
Sent: Mon 7 Apr, 9:08 am
To: Adam Anderson
Subject: Most epic funny cats
www.youtube.com/watch?v=WXUoZkBoGg
This one. Seriously. It’s the funniest by far. Did you hear me fall off my chair just now? Because I did. That’s how funny this is.
___________________________________
From: Adam Anderson
Sent: Mon 7 Apr, 9:10 am
To: Alivia Howard
Subject: Get off your lazy bum
Why are you sending me emails when you live about three metres away from me? If you find a funny video, get off your lazy bum and come over here and show me!
P.S. You are ten minutes late for the Star Wars marathon.
___________________________________
From: Alivia Howard
Sent: Mon 7 Apr, 9:11 am
To: Adam Anderson
Subject: Re: Get off your lazy bum
My bum is not lazy. Did you see it last night? I was rocking those kneeling rear leg raises.
P.S. Cat videos are more entertaining than Star Wars.
___________________________________
From: Adam Anderson
Sent: Mon 7 Apr, 9:12 am
To: Alivia Howard
Subject: Sigh
File under Inappropriate Things Livi Says: “Did you see my bum last night?”
___________________________________
From: Alivia Howard
Sent: Mon 7 Apr, 9:14 am
To: Adam Anderson
Subject: I do not say that many inappropriate things
Really? You have a mental file labeled Inappropriate Things Livi Says? I would have thought it more likely you’d have a mental file labeled Things Livi’s Walked Into.
___________________________________
From: Alivia Howard
Sent: Tue 8 Apr, 20:45 pm
To: Sarah Henley
Subject: Am I a snooty wine drinker?
Adam has this friend at Jazzy Beanbag, Hugo, who really likes this drummer girl from one of the bands that plays there regularly. So Adam decided to help him out by casually mentioning last night that the four of us should check out this food and wine festival happening in Franschhoek this week. Pixie said she doesn’t like wine, but she’d be happy to come along for the food part (and no, Pixie is not her real name, but everyone calls her that because she’s so small).
So it was all going well. Adam and I were secretly watching the two of them and awarding Hugo points every time he was brave enough to do something like hold her hand or compliment her or casually drape his arm around her shoulder. It was cute. And Hugo was doing really well.
So we’d been tasting all this food and wine, and we’d just sat down at a table under the trees somewhere so I could give my aching ankle a rest, when Pixie looked at Adam, groaned, and said, “Can you please get your girlfriend to stop being a snooty know-it-all about the wine? I don’t think I can take it any longer.”
Well. Excuse me for enjoying the taste of wine. Excuse me for wanting to share my enjoyment by telling Adam and Hugo everything they should be able to smell and taste and then seeing if they can smell and taste it. Which, by the way, was a fun game until Miss Pixie decided she couldn’t ‘take it any longer.’ Maybe if she’d been drinking wine since she was fifteen she’d also appreciate how fabulous it is. But no. She had to make things awkward.
Anyway, I didn’t say any of that. I said, “Snooty?” And Adam blurted out, “She’s not my girlfriend.” And Pixie looked at us with this what’s-wrong-with-you-guys expression and said, “So why is your arm around her shoulders?” Instead of playing it cool and saying, “We’re friends. Friends do that. What’s your problem?” Adam whipped his arm away as fast as if my shoulders were on fire. I hadn’t even realised it was there because, you know, it’s ADAM, and we’ve put our arms around each other many times without it meaning anything. AND THEN he proceeded to keep at least two metres away from me for the rest of the day, which made whispering about Hugo and Pixie impossible. And Pixie kept sighing every time I said anything to her, as if I’d become this major annoyance in her life.
So today sucked.
I miss you.
xx
___________________________________
From: Alivia Howard
Sent: Wed 9 Apr, 21:30 pm
To: Sarah Henley
Subject: Livi Hearts Exercise
I know. I KNOW. You probably saw the subject line and thought I was being sarcastic, but I WAS NOT! This endorphin thing is working out well for me. And Adam too. He isn’t sad about Jenna and I’m not sad about Jackson. Not that you can really compare a two-and-a-half year relationship to one that lasted about three weeks, but still.
Sit-ups: 35
Crunches: 45
Plank: 25 seconds
It’s nowhere near as impressive as what Adam did today (no wonder he got over Jenna in only a few weeks. With all the exercise he’s been doing, he’s probably got bazillions of happy little endorphins whizzing around his body), but I still think it’s a brag-worthy achievement.
Luke usually comes to gym with us, but he goes off and does his own thing, which is pretty much his modus operandi for everything in life. He’s going to East London tomorrow to visit his girlfriend for a few days, so Adam and I will have the house to ourselves. Which, now that I think about it, is what it feels like most of the time.
xx
P.S. Mom said the session with Dad and the counsellor went quite well this morning. She’s still staying with my grandparents and she isn’t ready to make any major life decisions yet, but I’m just relieved nobody’s mentioned the D-word.
___________________________________
From: Alivia Howard
Sent: Thu 10 Apr, 15:53 pm
To: Sarah Henley
Subject: My flaming face
It finally happened. The thing I’ve been fearing since I moved in here at the beginning of the year: I walked in on a naked guy in our bathroom. And that naked guy was the guy I’ve been friends with since we were thirteen.
AWKWARD.
So here’s what happened. Our bathroom has this damp problem. Well, it has many problems (just ask my mother), but the major one is the lack of ventilation which means the steam doesn’t go anywhere and the walls and ceiling are always damp and mould is starting to grow. So we’ve taken to showering with the door ajar to assist with ventilation. We all do this. We all know about it. And I’ve never had a problem identifying when the bathroom is in use or not.
Until today.
Adam and I had just got back from gym, so obviously we needed to shower. I told him to go first. I made a snack and took it to my room to do some Facebook browsing. I don’t know how long I spent doing that, but by the time I realised I was cold and still needed to shower, I assumed Adam MUST be done in the bathroom. I passed his bedroom, where the door was half closed and music was playing. Which meant he was in there, right? Wrong. I pushed the bathroom door open and—
Holy naked buttocks.
He said “Whoa!” and I said “Whoa!” and then he start
ed TURNING AROUND, at which point I managed to squeeze my eyes shut and stumble out of there.
Now I’m hiding in my bedroom trying not to think about the fact that my best friend has a sexy butt. I just heard him go back to his room. Do you think it’s safe for me to shower now?
___________________________________
***
I pull on my comfy jeans and my hoodie with the White Tree of Gondor on the front, then comb my wet hair. These items of clothing have made a reappearance at the front of my wardrobe since I abandoned the party last Friday night and decided Cool wasn’t worth chasing anymore. I’m not sure if I’d be brave enough to wear them on campus, but for now, I’m enjoying not having to suck my tummy in every waking moment of the day.
I retrieve my slippers from under my bed—feeling a familiar stab of guilt when I see my violin collecting dust under there—and slide them on before shuffling across the passage to Adam’s room. His door is ajar, but there is NO WAY I’m pushing it open without knocking first. I tap the door frame and wait.
“Come in.” I slide the door open with my slippered foot—naked butt image, get OUT of my head—and walk in. Adam is sitting on his bed sorting through a pile of sheet music and refusing to look up at me. “Hugo called just now to apologise for Pixie’s rudeness yesterday. Apparently he doesn’t find her quite so attractive anymore and is reconsidering having a crush on her. I suggested that perhaps she was just having a bad day, but he said that since he’s started hanging out with her rather than simply admiring her from afar, he’s noticed how moody she is.”
“Okay. Adam?”
“And he added that he really enjoyed all the wine and appreciated you sharing your knowledge in an entirely non-snooty way.” More shuffling of sheet music. “So I guess we can do that again sometime, but without Pixie.”
“Adam.”
“Oh, and he mentioned the new band that’s playing tonight. He said they’re good, but I’m not sure I trust his judgement after The Electric Goat turned out to be so—”
“Adam!” Finally, he stops talking. “I know what you’re doing.”
“What am I doing?”
“Trying to avoid talking about the bathroom moment.”
“Yes. And I will continue to avoid talking about that moment for the rest of my life. Ah, here’s the one I was looking for.” He slides several pages out of a flip file.
“I just wanted to say that I’m really sorry I walked in. I thought you were finished and in your bedroom. And I honestly didn’t see much. Just—”
“Right, okay. Apology accepted. We can move on now.”
“Cool. So … things aren’t going to be weird?”
“Of course not. Why would things be weird?”
“You still won’t make eye contact with me.”
He sets the papers down on his lap and makes a point of meeting my eyes. “Happy now?”
I widen my eyes and stare back. “Super ecstatic.”
A doorbell rings.
We frown at one another. “We have a doorbell?” I say.
“I guess we do.”
“Rightio, then. I’ll go see who it is.” I swing around, knock my knee against the door frame, and limp down the passage while Adam shouts “Princess Clumsy” after me. I rub my knee and unlock the front door. I pull it open and find—
A girl. A little younger than me. Red hair. Small frame. Dad’s eyes.
No way.
“Hi,” she says. “Are you Livi?”
No way, no way, no way.
I grip the door frame for support as I nod slowly.
She smiles, swallows, and says, “I’m Andi.”
“Okay,” Adam says. “So this is a little unexpected.”
“Unexpected? Unexpected?” I stop pacing and stand in front of his bed, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the lounge. “My half-sister, who I did not even know existed until a few weeks ago, is sitting on our couch! Words cannot explain just how unexpected this is.”
“I thought you wanted to meet her.”
“I did. But I thought I’d have some time to mentally prepare myself. I wasn’t expecting her to just show up with absolutely no warning.”
“Hence my use of the word ‘unexpected,’” Adam mutters.
“You—” I point at him “—are not helping.”
“Well, I guess it’s fortunate, then, that I’m about to leave for work.”
“No!” I grab both his arms as he stands up. “Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.”
“Livi, it’s going to be fine. It’s not like I’m leaving you alone with the Chucky doll or something.”
“WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT? You know that movie scared the crap out of me.”
“I’m sorry. I forgot.” He pats my arm before picking up his keys from the desk.
“You did not forget. You’re trying to get back at me for the naked butt moment.”
He laughs. “Stop being ridiculous and just go and talk to her.”
“But I don’t know what to say.”
“Livi.” He places both hands on my shoulders and focuses his gaze on me. “You have a lifetime to catch up on. I’m sure you’ll find something.”
For some insane reason—possibly because my brain is looking for any distraction from the girl sitting on my couch—I can’t help remembering Allegra saying that glasses make guys look cute. And maybe I’ve just never noticed it before, but Adam’s glasses do make him look cute. And the eyes behind those glasses … I never noticed how light they are. Kind of greyish green, but so light. Like, luminously lit up.
I’m staring. Crapazoid. How long have I been staring for? And why is Adam staring back at me with that weird sort of uncertainty, as if …
I step back and look away, because apparently my legs have more of a brain than my brain does right now. “You, uh, you’re right. There’s plenty of stuff for us to talk about. I just have to find the right place to start.”
“Exactly.” Adam scratches his head, causing his sticking-up hair to stick up a little more. “If you really don’t want to be left here alone with her, you could always come to Jazzy Beanbag and do your chatting there.”
“Yes! That’s a great idea.”
***
Adam disappears behind the bar, and Andrea—Andi, I correct myself silently—and I sit down at the table next to the red leg-shaped lamp. I glance up. She glances up. We both look away.
I run my finger along one of the scratches on the table. With an uncomfortable laugh, I say, “This is weird.”
“I know.” She tugs at her brightly coloured scarf. “I’m so sorry I just showed up. I was expecting you to slam the door in my face or scream at me about how my mom ruined your family or something. I still can’t believe I’m sitting here with my … sister.”
I look up. “Are you also an only child?”
She nods. “It’s always just been me and my mom.”
“Your mom,” I murmur, not really wanting to think about that part of the equation.
“Yes. Oh my gosh, you must hate her.” Andi covers her face with her hands and groans. I notice the dark green nail polish on her fingers and wonder what her favourite colour is. “I’m so sorry. I thought you’d hate me too because of her, but I really wanted to meet you, so I thought I’d risk coming here.” She peeks through her fingers. “Thank you for not hating me.”
I take a deep breath and say, “I wanted to. I tried to hate you. But the sensible part of my brain kept reminding me that none of this was your fault. And … honestly … I wanted to meet you too. I asked my dad—um, our dad—but he said no. How did you find me anyway?”
“Well, you see—” She breaks off as a waitress comes over to take our order. Andi asks for coffee, and I order hot chocolate.
“Hey, you’re Livi, right?” the waitress says before leaving. “Adam’s friend?”
“Uh, yes, that’s me.”
“I don’t mean to put you in the middle of anything, or make you uncomfortable, but can you please tell
Adam to just talk to me?”
“To talk to you?” With half my mind still focused on Andi and her story, I wonder if perhaps I’ve missed some important detail here. “You both work here, right?” I say to the waitress. “Can’t you just walk up to him and start a conversation?”
She sighs. “I’ve been trying. But he’s managed to avoid me for three weeks. I know he’s embarrassed, but it really wasn’t a big deal. He’s an amazingly talented musician. I’d hate for him to give up his guitar lessons because of one drunken incident.”
Say WHAT? Adam’s taking guitar lessons? There was a drunken incident with this woman who looks about a decade older than us? And I’m supposed to figure out what’s going on with the half-sister I only just met sitting right here listening to all this?
I clear my throat and sit up a little straighter. “Whatever it is that happened, I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to be discussing it with your customers.” Ugh, I sound exactly like my mother. Next thing I’ll be calling the manager and making a scene.
The Trouble with Flirting Page 14
