Read Online Confessions of a Not It Girl by Melissa Kantor - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Melissa Kantor
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father and documentary-filmmaker mother.
"That sucks," said Tom. He loosened his grip on me for a second, and I managed to shake myself loose and stand up. After a minute he did, too.
"Well, I ..." he started to say. I could see him moving in for another grab and backed toward the door.
"Ah, good night," I said, putting my hand on the knob and turning it.
"Yeah, good night," he said as I opened the door. "We should try and--"
"Yeah, bye," I said. The only thing I wanted to try and do with Tom Richmond was avoid him, and that didn't seem like something we could really work on together.
Downstairs I searched for Rebecca, who was sitting next to Drew on the kitchen counter.
"I think I'm going to go," I told her.
"Where have you been? You've got--" She reached her hand out toward me.
"I'll call you tomorrow," I said, backing away.
"But--"
"I'll call you tomorrow."
As I walked over to Clinton Street to get a cab, my feet seemed to be beating out a rhythm that went guys suck guys suck guys suck. Slowly it evolved into life sucks life sucks life sucks. At Clinton Street there weren't any cabs, which is very unusual since there's usually one every
73
minute or so. Guys suck life sucks guys suck life sucks guys suck life sucks.
What exactly are you supposed to do when a guy starts kissing you? There you are, having a nice time, minding your own business, just trying to appreciate a beautiful view, and the next thing you know someone's got his tongue up your nose. I mean, do I need to start carrying pepper spray?
"Life sucks!" I shouted out to the universe.
"Jan?" I turned around. Oh my God. OH MY GOD! OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD! There he stood. Tall. Beautiful. Perfect.
"Josh?"
"Hey," he said. "What's so sucky about life?" Wearing his black wool cap pulled down low on his forehead and a blue peacoat, Josh looked like a very cute sailor on shore leave.
"What?"
He repeated himself, carefully enunciating each word. "What. Is. So. Sucky. About. Life?"
I made a vague gesture as if to say, Oh, you know. Poverty. Hunger. Racism. Bad kissers, and then we just stood there for a minute. I hopped from one foot to the other.
"I was going to get a cab home," he said finally.
"I was going to get a cab home, too," I said.
"Maybe if we combine our efforts we'll have better luck," he said. He gave me a half smile, and I realized the rakish grin on Josh's face was probably the look Tom had been going for when he first slid his arm around my shoulders in the kitchen.
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"Sure," I said. I put my arm out, thinking, Stay away, cabs. Stay away, cabs.
Of course an empty cab pulled up immediately.
"You seem to have the touch," said Josh as I opened the cab door.
"It's a native New Yorker thing," I said, sliding across the seat.
"Where to?" asked the driver.
We gave him our addresses.
"I thought you'd left," said Josh.
"Oh." What can you say to that? Actually, I was upstairs being mauled by Tom Richmond. "No, I was...still there."
"Oh."
Silence. Josh started tapping his knuckles against the window. Tap. Pause. Tap tap. Pause. Tap tap tap tap tap. The hand that wasn't tapping was on the seat mere centimeters from mine. I thought about Rebecca saying, You should make the first move. I willed my hand to drift over to his, but it refused to budge. Move. Move.
Nothing. Apparently having a crush turns you into a quadriplegic.
When the cab pulled up in front of my house, I reached for my wallet, but Josh said he'd pay.
"So," I said. I'd said it emphatically, like I had a really significant follow-up. Unfortunately, all I followed it up with was "Good night." I opened the cab door.
"Good night," he said.
Do not let me get out of this cab. "I'm glad I ran into you," I said.
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"Yeah," he said. He was smiling at me in a way I couldn't quite identify. I could see the meter ticking out of the corner of my eye.
"That way we didn't each need to pay for a cab," I said.
"Yeah." He was still smiling.
"Well, I guess you're still paying
"That sucks," said Tom. He loosened his grip on me for a second, and I managed to shake myself loose and stand up. After a minute he did, too.
"Well, I ..." he started to say. I could see him moving in for another grab and backed toward the door.
"Ah, good night," I said, putting my hand on the knob and turning it.
"Yeah, good night," he said as I opened the door. "We should try and--"
"Yeah, bye," I said. The only thing I wanted to try and do with Tom Richmond was avoid him, and that didn't seem like something we could really work on together.
Downstairs I searched for Rebecca, who was sitting next to Drew on the kitchen counter.
"I think I'm going to go," I told her.
"Where have you been? You've got--" She reached her hand out toward me.
"I'll call you tomorrow," I said, backing away.
"But--"
"I'll call you tomorrow."
As I walked over to Clinton Street to get a cab, my feet seemed to be beating out a rhythm that went guys suck guys suck guys suck. Slowly it evolved into life sucks life sucks life sucks. At Clinton Street there weren't any cabs, which is very unusual since there's usually one every
73
minute or so. Guys suck life sucks guys suck life sucks guys suck life sucks.
What exactly are you supposed to do when a guy starts kissing you? There you are, having a nice time, minding your own business, just trying to appreciate a beautiful view, and the next thing you know someone's got his tongue up your nose. I mean, do I need to start carrying pepper spray?
"Life sucks!" I shouted out to the universe.
"Jan?" I turned around. Oh my God. OH MY GOD! OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD! There he stood. Tall. Beautiful. Perfect.
"Josh?"
"Hey," he said. "What's so sucky about life?" Wearing his black wool cap pulled down low on his forehead and a blue peacoat, Josh looked like a very cute sailor on shore leave.
"What?"
He repeated himself, carefully enunciating each word. "What. Is. So. Sucky. About. Life?"
I made a vague gesture as if to say, Oh, you know. Poverty. Hunger. Racism. Bad kissers, and then we just stood there for a minute. I hopped from one foot to the other.
"I was going to get a cab home," he said finally.
"I was going to get a cab home, too," I said.
"Maybe if we combine our efforts we'll have better luck," he said. He gave me a half smile, and I realized the rakish grin on Josh's face was probably the look Tom had been going for when he first slid his arm around my shoulders in the kitchen.
74
"Sure," I said. I put my arm out, thinking, Stay away, cabs. Stay away, cabs.
Of course an empty cab pulled up immediately.
"You seem to have the touch," said Josh as I opened the cab door.
"It's a native New Yorker thing," I said, sliding across the seat.
"Where to?" asked the driver.
We gave him our addresses.
"I thought you'd left," said Josh.
"Oh." What can you say to that? Actually, I was upstairs being mauled by Tom Richmond. "No, I was...still there."
"Oh."
Silence. Josh started tapping his knuckles against the window. Tap. Pause. Tap tap. Pause. Tap tap tap tap tap. The hand that wasn't tapping was on the seat mere centimeters from mine. I thought about Rebecca saying, You should make the first move. I willed my hand to drift over to his, but it refused to budge. Move. Move.
Nothing. Apparently having a crush turns you into a quadriplegic.
When the cab pulled up in front of my house, I reached for my wallet, but Josh said he'd pay.
"So," I said. I'd said it emphatically, like I had a really significant follow-up. Unfortunately, all I followed it up with was "Good night." I opened the cab door.
"Good night," he said.
Do not let me get out of this cab. "I'm glad I ran into you," I said.
75
"Yeah," he said. He was smiling at me in a way I couldn't quite identify. I could see the meter ticking out of the corner of my eye.
"That way we didn't each need to pay for a cab," I said.
"Yeah." He was still smiling.
"Well, I guess you're still paying
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