Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 87856 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87856 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Because that's how I understand people.
I can break it down, sure.
The opportunity cost of exclusivity.
The mutual gains of exclusivity (safe, condom free sex).
The mutual gains of shared labor. (Pooling resources is more efficient).
It all makes perfect sense.
But where do I explain the feeling in my chest? The free fall of falling for him? The desire to spill my guts? The fear of pushing him away.
Sharing secrets leads to trust.
Trust leads to additional cooperation.
Cooperation leads to the best outcomes.
It all makes sense, but none of it explains the feelings coursing through my veins.
After class, I pull out my cell, ready to text him, check on him, plan more time together.
But I have something else to address first.
A text from Julie.
Julie: So? Are you single? Did you chicken out? Or did you tell him everything?
Chapter Thirty-Four
IMOGEN
Did I chicken out?
I didn't end things, but I didn't confess either.
How the hell do I explain this to Julie? What do I owe my kid sister?
She isn't like me. She doesn't live in her head, obsess over books, pour her thoughts onto blank pages. She's a social butterfly. She can discuss anything with anyone.
I can't.
Our family can't. We haven't.
I don't know what to say, so I stick with the truth. What I'm willing to share, at least.
Imogen: I didn't end things.
Julie: !!
Imogen: I talked to him. We dealt with it, like adults.
Julie: Yeah, you're a bastion of maturity, staring at your phone all night, needing your high school sister to talk you into conversation.
Imogen: I know, right?
Julie: Seriously, Immy, where are the details!
Imogen: What details?
Julie: "We handled it like adults" isn't a real description of events. What really happened?
Everything. Nothing. There are a million places to start.
My depressive phase, my attempt, my inability to broach it with Mom, to confess to anyone.
That's the problem with Patrick too.
Or maybe it's not a problem.
It stopped feeling like a problem last night. But maybe that's the sex talking. Or something else.
Imogen: I want to tell you, I do. But it's his. It's not mine to share.
Julie: What you found about him?
Imogen: Yes.
That's not totally true, but it's true enough.
Imogen: It's between the two of us.
Julie: I guess that's sweet, that you're keeping his secret.
Imogen: It means I'll keep yours.
Julie: Trust me. I know you keep secrets.
Is it that obvious?
Julie: I guess everyone does. I didn't mean it as an accusation. I'm just worried.
Imogen: You don't need to worry about me.
Julie: I do.
Imogen: Not with him.
Julie: Especially with him. I remember you and Zack. What a train wreck.
Imogen: It wasn't that bad.
Julie: Maybe for you. But for him? Did you know he texted me for a while?
Imogen: What?
Julie: Not in a sleazy way. It was just about the internship at his dad's company at first.
That's vaguely familiar.
Julie: Then, you ended things, and he wanted to "check up on you." I didn't have the heart to tell him you seemed totally unbothered by the breakup. So I told him you missed him, but you knew ending things was the right thing to do. He kept begging me for explanations. I guess he didn't understand what happened, and he thought I would.
Imogen: He shouldn't have done that.
Julie: Maybe. But I didn't mind. He's a nice guy.
Imogen: He's a blowhard.
Julie: Oh, you mean you didn't want to hear him compare himself to the Joker and talk about what an epic film Joker was, again?
Imogen: Somehow, no.
Julie: There wasn't any funny business. Just so you know.
Imogen: I know.
Julie: How? He was good-looking. He paid attention to me. He could have done the wrong thing.
Imogen: Because I know he wouldn't. And I know you'd never do that to me.
Julie: That is true. The last part. The first, probably. But I'd never do anything to hurt you. Not on purpose. Are you mad? Don't be mad. I was going to tell you, but you got weird and I didn't know how to broach it.
Imogen: I'm not mad.
Julie: So you're hiding something big?
Imogen: How do you figure?
Julie: You should be mad.
Imogen: He approached you, right?
Julie: Yeah, he was crazy in love with you. Just couldn't get over it.
Imogen: He didn't really know me.
Julie: I saw that pretty quickly. The way he described you, I always thought, no way he's talking about my sister, Imogen, the badass who lectures me about Fiona Apple?
Imogen: Am I that much of a broken record?
Julie: A broken Fiona Apple record, yes.
Imogen: Patrick said the same thing.
Julie: Aww, you listened to Fiona together? True love.
Imogen: Not Fiona yet, actually. But he listened on his own. And we listened to something he loved.
Sorta.
Julie: Does he have bad taste?
Imogen: Yes, but he's aware of it.
Julie: How bad?
Imogen: Dad rock.
Julie: Our dad? Or general dads?
Imogen: General.
Julie: Oof.
Imogen: Please. You listen to Yop 40.
Julie: You're just jealous the music you like isn't popular anymore.
Imogen: People remember Fiona Apple. People won't remember whoever you're jamming.