Page 63 of I Think He Knows
The rest of the world might see him as a player, a bad boy and heartbreaker, but I see the best person I’ve ever met. And that’s all I need not to feel anxious anymore.
When the doorbell rings, I turn to Anthony with a squeak of excitement. “It’s him! He’s here!”
He winks at me. “Girl, he is going to lose his ever-loving mind over you.”
21
CARTER
I can pinpoint the exact moment that I realized I was falling for Lana Mae. Remember it like it was yesterday.
Because it was the same day that I realized that having feelings for her was not an option.
It was a cold November day during my freshman year of college. I overheard Steven on the phone to Lana Mae, promising that he’d be at her high school homecoming dance later that evening.
It was the third or fourth time that I’d heard them on the phone discussing the dance—it was obviously important to Lana Mae, and she was obviously feeling a little unsure about whether her boyfriend would turn up. They’d gotten back together the day after she caught him cheating on her. I was surprised, to say the least. Bothered, actually. What was a girl like that doing with a guy like him?
But their relationship wasn’t my business.
Or at least, that was what I told myself until later that same evening, when I spotted Steven on his way to a party on sorority row instead of heading to Lana’s high school like he’d promised. The guy had clearly risen to new heights of douchebaggery, because he was standing Lana up at her senior homecoming dance. After he cheated on her.
I hardly knew the girl, but my heart went out to her. And so, I did the only thing I could think to do: I threw on a suit and drove to Lana Mae’s high school.
I strode in through the front door of the dance and picked her out in the crowd in an instant. Honey hair. Caramel skin. Chocolate eyes. Sweet all over and wearing a baby-pink sparkly dress, which I thought, at the time, was the prettiest thing I’d ever seen a girl wear.
And that’s when it hit me. I wasn’t selfless, or good, or kind. I was selfish. Ilikedher. Had liked her from the moment I laid eyes on her. And I wantedherto realize it, too. See me being there instead of him as a sign—a signal to lose the fool boyfriend and get to know me better instead.
My palms were sweaty as I approached her. I put a hand on her shoulder, and when she turned around and saw that it was me and not him standing there in front of her, my hope quickly dwindled.
“He’s not coming.”
She said it as a statement, not a question. But I nodded anyway to confirm what she already knew. “He’s not,” I said. “But Lana, he’s a cheater and a liar. You can do so much better than him.”
And then, she looked up at me with the biggest, saddest eyes I’ve ever seen, and choked out the words, “Carter, I’m pregnant.”
She found out the day after we caught him upstairs with that other girl. It was why she took him back all those weeks ago. She hadn’t told anyone else, and didn’t know what she was going to do. How she was going to make it work.
Seeing as I was completely unqualified and in no position to give her any advice whatsoever on her situation, all I could do was comfort her. Give her someone to lean on. I pulled her towards me and she buried her head in my chest and cried mascara tears all over my slightly crumpled suit as I stroked her hair.
When she eventually pulled away, she wiped her nose and sniffled. “Well, that’s embarrassing. I’ve only met you twice and already managed to both puke and cry on you.”
Desperate to make her smile again, I joked, “As long as you don’t pee on me next, I’m okay with it.”
It worked. Through her tears, she laughed and laughed, doing that weird snort thing she does. And I knew, in that moment, that I’d found my new favorite person. Somebody who could laugh at a terrible joke in the face of the worst, most painful moment imaginable.
That’s Lana.
Tonight, as I stand on her doorstep with nervous anticipation pricking at my skin like needles, I feel like I’ve been transported back to the night of her homecoming dance. Only this time, we’re grown, mature adults who might know each other better than we know ourselves.
And I’m wearing a tailor-made Armani tux in place of a too-small, thrift store suit. Which I’m sure is an improvement.
I shift the bouquet of wildflowers to my other hand. It’s an eclectic collection of lilacs, garden roses, succulents, sweet peas and ranunculus, according to the florist. He did a great job putting together something that looked “beautiful but unique, tasteful but untamed” for me.
The door finally opens a few moments after I ring the bell, and I’m stunned into silence. Because standing here, staring at Lana Mae in that dress, I suddenly realize that I was a fool to think those feelings had ever gone away. I’ve been in love with her all this time. How could I have ever been anything but.
I mean, look at her.
Idefinitelydon’t want her like a best friend.