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parents would never allow a guy who’s not family to stay at my house,” Viv says. “Especially a French guy. Don’t they all sleep around over there?”
    “You can’t generalize like that,” Amy says. “You can only generalize that French guys are skinny. But Kayla doesn’t mind skinny.”
    “Maybe I do. It depends on the guy.”
    I refrain from saying that Jared wasn’t skinny, he was all lean muscle. I scan the gym, spotting Jared with a couple of guys and a girl at the other end. The girl is a senior named Chelsea Yang. Pretty. Cheerleader. Debate club.
    Oh, my God. Chelsea Yang is moving in! My girl radar is certain of it.
    I feel a hand on my arm. It’s Viv. She knows what I’m thinking.
    So does Ryan. “You’ve raised his market value, Kayla. Before you, Chelsea never would’ve been interested. But you’ve made him an acceptable choice.”
    “I did?” I am not cool with this. I took a chance on him, and now other girls know that he’s boyfriend material? No, thank you.
    “I bet Chelsea’s been waiting for you to break up this whole time,” Amy says.
    “But why would she be interested in Jared? Wasn’t she dating Michael from student council for ages? Jared isn’t her type.”
    “He wasn’t your type either, or so you thought,” Sharese says. “Things change.”
    “I can’t believe this.” Somehow my relationship with Jared has made him a desirable dating choice.
    “She’s no you, Kayla,” Viv says. “Remember that.”
    “Thanks.” But the bleak future is flashing before my eyes. Jared will get together with Chelsea. She will be less clingy, less melodramatic, and an altogether better girlfriend than I was. They will go to prom together, elope to Vegas, then go off to college and share one of those married couple dorm rooms which I’ve always thought were so cozy and romantic.
    This line of thought is not working for me. “I’m going to the bathroom.” I get up quickly before one of my friends can offer to join me.
    I hurry there, expecting to burst into tears. But the tears don’t come. Sadness seems to be locked in my throat. I’m standing at the sink, looking at myself in the mirror. How could you do this to me, Jared, when you promised to never hurt me?
    I force myself to breathe in and out until I feel calm again. I finally straighten and leave the bathroom. When I go back into the gym, I refuse to look in Jared’s direction. Rebound, I tell myself. I’ve got to move on.
     
    That night I write a blog called A Viable Option, discussing the idea that who you’re seen dating determines who will consider dating you next. I’m still reeling at the fact that go-getter Chelsea Yang may be going for Jared.
    Or was she around the whole time? Were she and Jared secretly friends, just waiting for me to be out of the picture before they became more?
    I try to banish the thought. Unless I’m faced with evidence to the contrary, I’m going to believe Jared didn’t dump me for another girl.
    Still, I have to wonder about what Ryan said—that I somehow raised Jared’s stature by dating him for so long. But why? He dated Brooke before me, the most popular girl in school. She’s the one who made him a viable option, not me.
    Or maybe not. She dumped him, claiming he was a jerk for demanding sex. But the truth was, it was just a ploy to make her break up with him. I suppose Jared might’ve remained a dating no-no if I hadn’t scooped him up after that.
    When you think about it, the fact that Jared and I stayed together for six months showed Chelsea and all the other girls at school that Jared was a keeper. And, damn it, we probably looked happy. Because we were happy. At least, I thought we were. I still don’t know when that changed.
    I wish it worked both ways. I wish there was a group of gorgeous, dangerous (but not really) guys waiting for Jared and me to break up so they could ask me out. But no one has, and frankly, that type of guy doesn’t seem to exist except in