Melt Read Free Page B

it my business to walk, period.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â At that point I wasn’t too broken up about Amy heading off.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â I’m not that desperate.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Joey spun around with his shoulders straightened and his head held high. We locked eyes and he smiled that smile again, just a little, around the edges. He strutted back over the grey tiles.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Here’s the thing about strutting. On guys, I like it. Guys need a certain something in their walk, it’s part of who they are. On girls, it’s just pretension. For guys, it’s a necessity.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œHey,” he said when he got up close again. He was still smiling.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œHey,” I said, smiling back. I’d never felt so instantly comfortable with someone, but at the same time there was this great pressure pounding in my chest, telling me not to blow it somehow.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Truth is, I’d never had a boyfriend. I’d hung out with a few guys, gone to the movies and such, but I never felt any inclination to go further with them. There was never any connection. I kind of thought that connection stuff was something fabricated by Hollywood, or conjured up in people’s minds—people who needed to believe that there was some soul mate out there waiting to complete them, because they couldn’t bear the burden of completing themselves.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â I wasn’t looking for completion, but god it was nice to feel .
    Â Â Â Â Â Â So there I was doing all this mental babbling but saying nothing to him. He was just watching me, wearing that little side smile, almost like he was listening to the thoughts inside my head. It would’ve creeped me out with anyone else, but with him, it was awesome.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â He must’ve known that I was back in focus, because he said, “Wanna sit, or something?” He pointed to a table for two by the window, overlooking the parking lot.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œSure,” I said.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â We sat, stared at each other some more, in a really cozy way.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Like they do in the movies.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Like I never thought could be, in real life.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â I sipped my latte. “Want some?”
    Â Â Â Â Â Â He shook his head no. “I don’t do foam.”
    Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œOh,” I said.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â He made a face like he couldn’t believe he’d said that. “Uh, I mean ….”
    Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œIt’s fine. You don’t do foam. I can respect that.”
    Â Â Â Â Â Â He laughed. He had such a great, deep laugh, and his eyes twinkled when he did it, like they were laughing too.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œSo, are your parents into The Wizard of Oz ? That why they named you Dorothy?”
    Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œActually, I’m named after Dorothy Parker.” I pulled a piece of my croissant off and popped it in my mouth.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œWho’s that?”
    Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œShe was a writer in the 1920s. She used to get together with a bunch of other literary types, hang out at the Algonquin.”
    Â Â Â Â Â Â He raised his eyebrows. “The Indian tribe?”
    Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œThe hotel. It’s in Manhattan. They used to talk shop, booze it up. Chat a little, drink a lot, you know how it goes.”
    Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œI can relate to the drinking part,” he said, in a way that was both funny and not. “Well, she sounds way more cool than Dorothy in Oz.”
    Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œI wouldn’t knock either one,” I said. “That Dorothy in pigtails and plaid, she had a lot of spunk.”
    Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œYeah, I guess she did,” he said. “Maybe