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afternoons progressed, I realized I was pretty much handling the entire thing on my own. But while I usually resented it and did it anyway, this seemed different. I didn’t feel taken advantage of, and I liked that the project gave me something to distract myself with when Reed and I were alone, before his friends showed up.
    We were fast on our way to becoming friends. I was finally ready to admit to myself that I had a bit of a puppy crush on him for sure, but that I wasn’t really interested in anything beyond that. I liked how he made me feel—like I was a part of something, socially accepted, almost cool. I fantasized about our high school years, me catching rides with him, waving at him while he was on the field for a game. One day, after I’ve finally met his dad, he’d know me, too. I would pop over to visit and he’d welcome me in, ask me to stay for dinner. Yes, Reed and I could become great friends. And that would be enough.
    “Oh. My. God. Your house is so huuuuuuuge!” I heard a squeal come from the front door. That’s when I was thrown back into reality.
    Tatum was here. In this house. With me and my new group of friends. She showed up with Cole and Devin and threw her purse on the table next to our nearly done project, not even casting a look in my direction. Her heavy and clunky keys slid out the top of her purse, knocking over several toothpick structures I had set aside to dry from gluing. Thoughtless and selfish, was all I could think as I pushed her crap from the table to a nearby chair and reassembled the toothpicks.
    “Reeeeeeeeeed,” she giggled, in a little-girl voice that I thought wasn’t fooling anyone. The fakeness oozed from her, and it was utterly transparent—far from attractive. But just then, she threw her arms around Reed and nuzzled her nose into the corner of his neck. She was two years older than him, and she could have any guy in our school. But she wanted to lay claim to Reed. And I was furious.
    At first, I thought maybe Reed would be as annoyed by her childish voice and overt flirtation as I was, but he seemed to be eating it up, picking her up and twirling her around in the kitchen, touching her legs with his feet on the couch in the living room and admiring “how cute she was” when she stole his hat from his head and put it on her perfectly tussled head of hair.
    For the first time in weeks, the guys didn’t sit around the table with me. I continued to work, listening to the conversations in the living room. Tatum giggling at their sports conversations, and asking them what they thought of her hair: Should she cut it? Does it look better up? Should she wear more hats? She had a loose over-shirt on and I watched as she strategically removed it in front of Reed, her back to him as he sat on one of the stools at the breakfast bar. She looked over her shoulder, asking him if he could tuck the tag in on the tight tank she was now revealing.
    “Yeah, I got it,” he said, a bit taken with her. I could tell he was feeding off of her. Who wouldn’t. She was 17 going on 26 and was built like a Hooters waitress. I thought of myself trying to pull off that same move… I would look idiotic, I disappointed.
    For two hours, the giggling continued. At one point, she had jumped up on his lap and had wrapped her arms around his neck. He was stroking up and down her back with his hand, his thumb flicking the straps of her tank top. He had a smirk on his face and she knew she had him. While I was only a room away, I was an entire world apart.
    My phone made me jump, and I knocked over the stack of note cards I had been making about our various model pieces. I told my dad I would meet him outside when he came, fearful that I might start crying at any moment. I bent down to gather the note cards and my eyes started to sting. I saw the bottom of Reed’s tattered jeans on the other underside of the table. I begged myself to stop the tears and wished with all my might that he would just