Knickers

Wikihow That Shit

Maya and I rehearse dating etiquette for nearly two hours. Clearly I'm unqualified to provide any material based on experience, so I Wikihow that shit.
Since our unpleasant experience with the boy who used us both, Maya and I indirectly swore off dating by encouraging our nighttime excursions, the evidence of which is always gone by morning. We saw the tail end of each other's heartbreak from our shared ex-boyfriend, but we had never been a crutch for a beginning of the other's relationship. It's interesting, and new, and mortifying, particularly when she cuts herself off to ask what I had been doing at Dom's.
I shrug. "Hanging out."
"Marley. I can tell something's off. Did you fuck?"
"No, I did something much worse."
The premise of having a crush was unnerving until I had been able to justify my childish infatuation with his act of heroism. It was almost impossible to not like him for that, right? How could I blame myself for my feelings after being carried home and tucked into bed?
"He knocked out two guys for me, Maya. With his bare hands," I say, curling my fingers in emphasis. "He picked my messy, drunk ass up, and took me into his room. And you know what he did then?"
"Will I have to kick his ass for it?"
"No, of course not. He took off my makeup for me, Maya. Disinfected my scrapes, tied my hair up for me, laid fresh clothes out. He was going to take the couch to let me have his fucking bed."
She grimaces. "Okay. Major brownie points."
"What if it's more than a crush?" I ask her, my chest tightening at my own question. "What if I've gotten in too deep?"
"Oh, Marley," she says, sighing gently in her soft, nonjudgmental way. "So quickly?"
"Please, tell me I'm an idiot. Help me shake the feeling."
Maya shrugs one shoulder, sitting back in her chair. "I've never heard you talk like this. It's not my place to help you rationalize your emotions away."
"Maya," I whine.
"I don't know what to tell you, Marley. I totally get it. He's funny and sweet and personable. Who wouldn't fall for him?"
"No, that's the opposite of what I want to hear. Tell me it's a terrible idea. He's got tons of fangirls all over the world, he's got tours and interviews and shows. He's casual friends with the drummer from Blink. I can't compete with that."
Maya holds her hands up innocently, shrugging again. "If the two of you wanted to make it work, you would. Does he feel the same?"
"No, of course not. I'm not that gullible."
"Have you asked him?"
"Well, no, but—"
"Then you sound pretty gullible to me for making assumptions," she concludes, finishing off her now cold matcha latte and standing.
"You're not helping. Like, at all."
"Because I'm not going to help you out of this one. It's time for you to sit down and figure out what you want, even if it forces you to stop running."
I pout. "You're just as flighty as me, you know, if not more."
"Yeah, well, I guess I'm dating someone now," she says, extending her hand to link arms with me. "Your move, bitch."