Take Me There Read Free Page B

me defiantly. Not blinking. There’s nothing on my cell, either.
    I press the start button on my iBook and go to the closet. I take out a soft white tank top and pink pajama bottoms from my dresser. I watch my screen saver of Topher Grace come on while I change. James always teases me about it whenever he comes over. He’s all like, “Where’s the screen saver of me?”
    I click my Gmail widget and see that I have five new messages. I get this adrenaline rush of anticipation.
    But none of them are from Steve.
    I can’t wait anymore. If I wait around for him to realize how lame he’s being, I’ll probably be waiting forever.
    I click on “Compose Mail.” Here’s what I write:
    To: steve
    Subject: us
    Steve,
    I just have to tell you that I don’t know how to do this. I still have feelings for you and I think
    I click the DISCARD button.
    I start again.
    Steve,
    I’ve written this e-mail a thousand times in my head, all different versions, trying to think of the right words that will make you come back to me. I never stopped loving you
    I click DISCARD.
    I start again.
    Steve,
    How’s it going? I thought I would see you at Keith’s party tonight, but no. Were you there? It was fun times, as usual. So, I was wondering if
    DISCARD.
    Again.
    Steve,
    Can you just tell me why you did this?
    I don’t send that one, either.

CHAPTER 2
    Sunday
    AWAKE.
    I push the covers down to the bottom of my bed. Snickers meows and leaps away onto the floor with his legs sticking out in all different directions. It’s those negative vibes of desperation I keep giving off. They’re repelling everyone and everything around me.
    I go over to my desk to check my e-mail. Still nothing from Steve. And my cell’s been on all night, so I know he didn’t call.
    This is torture. It’s just torture.
    Question: If you were happy with your boyfriend but he wasn’t happy with you, was that happiness real?

    Sundays blow. There’s never anything on. But I have to kill time so I can get to the part where I feel better faster. So I go over to the DVD shelf and pick out 13 Going on 30 . I just want to lose myself in a fantasy that I’m still hoping will come true.
    When I’m at the part where Jenna and Matt get Razzles, Brooke strides into the living room. She goes, “God!” and flings herself dramatically over the other couch. “New York guys are such . . . children .”
    I don’t know what it is with her and interrupting my busy movie schedule. I press PAUSE on the remote. This won’t be short.
    “There’s this total manwhore phenomenon happening, where even the geeks are players now. It’s like Manhattan is this giant playground and guys want to keep playing forever.”
    I gaze at the TV wistfully.
    “They’re all totally neurotic and miserable. Working these eighty-hour weeks to pay for a bunch of stuff they don’t even have time to enjoy.”
    The sad thing about all this is that Brooke won’t meet her soul mate in a bar. He’ll probably be standing next to her in Wal-greens, getting toothpaste or something. Or maybe he’s been living next door this whole time. Like when Nicole liked this guy she kept seeing at the Barnes & Noble café? She’d go back to Barnes & Noble around the same time every Saturday and he was there a lot of the times. But after all that stalking, it turned out that he lived in her building right above her.
    But it’s hard to find your soul mate when everyone’s so anonymous and living in their own private bubble worlds. It’s not like you can just go up to a boy you like and say, “Are you my soul mate?”
    Brooke is oblivious that some of us are trying to watch a movie here. She keeps ranting about how unfair it is.
    I pick up the remote, hoping she’ll take a hint.
    “Even if you’re pretty, it still doesn’t matter.” Brooke sinks back against the cushions, deflated. “They’ll buy you a drink, but they’ll be looking over your shoulder the whole time they’re talking to