The jangling of the bell over the front door woke Nichol up from his mid-day nap. He yawned and stretched, remaining on his stool behind the counter as he glanced up from his stupor toward the door and the first customer of his shift.
"Hey, Nichol!" Fuel greeted him with a chipper smile. He was wearing his ratty hoodie as usual and carrying a whole pile of firewood.
Still groggy, Nichol wiped a trail of drool off his cheek. "What're you doing here?" he asked.
Fuel looked down at the load in his arms like it was obvious. "Delivery," he explained. "Where do you want these?"
The first living soul he'd seen since breakfast and it wasn't even someone who wanted to shop. Nichol waved toward a mound of firewood off to one side of the store. "Over there."
"Gotcha," Fuel said with a nod.
So much for any chance of excitement, Nichol thought. Why did he always get stuck behind the counter on slow days? His dad said something about acquiring some special merchandise. His mom was out visiting the neighbors. For all his complaining about never getting to see him, his grandfather wouldn't even keep him company at the shop. As for Richie, she was probably off somewhere having fun with Angie. "Oh," he said aloud, his brain having finally rebooted after his nap. "Hey, Fuel?"
"Yeah?" Fuel asked without looking up from stacking kindling.
"You gotta do something for me," Nichol told him. "Well actually, you gotta do something for Richie, but she's been bugging me to make you to do it, so it's kinda like a favor to me. I seriously don't know how much more nagging I can take."
"Well what is it?" Fuel asked over his shoulder.
Nichol was not comfortable asking this of his friend, but his sister was insistent. "Can you ask Angie out?"
Fuel fumbled with his delivery, knocking a few of the split logs off the stack before he could grab on and keep the rest from slipping off. "What?!"
"I know, I know, it's sorta weird that I'm the one who's telling you to do this," Nichol sympathized. "I'm not crazy about it either."
"That's not the weirdest part about this!" Fuel balked, standing up straight. "I can't ask Angie out!"
Nichol squinted at his friend. "Why not?"
"Because she doesn't like me that way," Fuel answered. "You guys give me a hard time and everything, but she's not really into me."
"Sure she is," Nichol told him. "Definitely. I think. Does it matter?"
"Of course it matters, dingus," Fuel said as he dropped the rest of his delivery on the floor and walked over to the counter in a huff. "You're just trying to make me look like an idiot in front of Angie."
"Dude, c'mon. I wouldn't go that far," Nichol assured him. "Angie digs you."
Fuel couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Did . . . did she say that?"
"I dunno. She could've," Nichol answered weakly. "Look, she told Richie that she's not into you, but Richie told me to tell you that that's not the case. Then Angie found out and told me to tell Richie to butt out, but Richie told me to tell her not to be so shy. So Angie told Richie to tell me to tell you not to listen to any of this stuff, but Richie says if it wasn't true then Angie would tell you herself and I can't keep playing the messenger boy like this, Fuel. It's too exhausting."
Fuel knitted his brow in confusion. "Huh?"
"Girls, right?" Nichol commiserated. "Look, it's real easy. Angie'd never admit it, but Richie says she's got a thing for you. I believe Richie because girls know about that stuff."
Leaning against the counter, Fuel dismissed Nichol's line of reasoning. "Pfft. Yeah right. You might not go that far to embarrass me, but your sister sure would. You almost had me going there for a second."
Fuel was pretty dense sometimes, and Nichol knew that even spelling things out wouldn't always work. "I don't think she's trying to put one over on you," he said.
"Uh-huh, whatever you say," Fuel responded sarcastically. "Tell you what: I'll believe you as soon as Angie asks me out." That was sure to put a stop to this nonsense.
"Like that'll ever happen," Nichol snorted. "C'mon, everyone knows the guy's supposed to ask the girl out, not the other way around. You're not a pansy, are you?"
"I'm not a pansy," Fuel responded harshly. "But I'm not dumb enough to fall for this either. It'd be one thing if she really did like me, but there's no way." He laughed at the very thought of it. Half the time he wondered if she could even stand his company; she never missed a chance to badger him to wipe his feet or sit up straight or mind his manners when he was at her place.
"So if she really did like you, then you'd ask her out?" Nichol wondered.
Fuel scratched his head at the question. "Yeah, I guess. I mean, that's what you're supposed to do, right?"
"So you do like her," Nichol concluded with a satisfied nod and a smirk.
"What? No! I didn't say that!" Fuel sputtered at the accusation.
Nichol leaned forward. "You just said you'd ask her out, man."
"Well sure, but not because I like her or anything," Fuel told him while trying to reestablish his cool composure.
"So you don't like her?" Nichol asked.
"I didn't say that either," Fuel snapped defensively. "Stop putting words in my mouth. Angie's great."
"Uh-huh," Nichol nodded. He was not about to let Fuel dodge that question so easily. "So if she did ask you out, would you say yes?"
Fuel stared off into space without responding. There was a time when he could have come up with an answer easily, but then Claus had to go and ask him on a date and it tossed everything he thought he knew on its head. He wasn't so sure what he would do anymore. "Um . . ."
"I'll take that as a 'no' then," Nichol concluded. He hadn't counted on that to be Fuel's response, but it was informative.
Fuel snapped back to attention. "I. Didn't. Say. That." He was getting sick of having to repeat himself.
"You also didn't not say it," Nichol asserted.
"Look, it doesn't matter either way," Fuel pouted. "Angie doesn't like me and that's that."
"You're worse than Claus," Nichol snorted.
Fuel blinked at the comparison. "Huh?"
"At least he answers," Nichol explained casually. "Sure, he lies and says he doesn't have a crush on anyone, but it's an answer."
Tensing up at the mention of Claus's crush, Fuel asked: "You're still going on about that?"
"You bet," Nichol nodded emphatically. "The problem is he's been MIA ever since he and Lucas fell in the river. It makes it hard to figure out who he's got his eye one. You've seen him more than I have, though. Any ideas?"
Fuel relaxed slightly, relieved that the Tazmily rumor mill had kept mum on this gossip so far. ". . . No. Sorry."
"I figured as much," Nichol said. "Not that it matters. He's too much of a wuss to ever ask someone out anyway."
"He's not a wuss!" Fuel growled. Even he wasn't sure where that outburst came from.
Caught off guard, Nichol relented. "Okay, whatever. I guess it could happen. I mean he's not as hopeless as Lucas, right?"
"And you're the town Casanova?" Fuel asked with one raised eyebrow.
Nichol defiantly folded his arms in front of himself. "Hey, I could get a girl if I wanted."
"Psh," Fuel scoffed. "I'll believe it when I see it."
"You're no better," Nichol noted. "But hey, if you're right and Claus isn't such a chicken, he might ask Angie out before you do. I bet you'd feel pretty dumb then, huh?"
Fuel shook his head. "No way."
"Why not?" Nichol asked. "We know he likes someone. If that someone is Angie then he could snatch her up before you make a move. That wouldn't bother you?"
"Even if he did ask her out – which he won't – Angie doesn't like him that way," Fuel pointed out. "Besides, those two would make the worst couple ever." Even he couldn't ignore the air of jealousy in his words.
"Weren't you just saying that you'd go out with Angie if she liked you?" Nichol recalled. "If Claus likes her then she might think the same way you do."
"Why are we even talking about this?" Fuel demanded. "He DOESN'T like her."
"Because you can't even answer one simple question," Nichol told him. "Do you like Angie? Yes or no?"
"I dunno!" Fuel confessed. "This stuff is dumb."
"I know it is, but figure it out," Nichol pleaded with him. "If you don't then I'll never get my sister off my back."
"Sucks to be you, then," Fuel answered snidely.
Nichol grunted in exasperation. This was almost enough to make him pine for a boring, lonesome shift behind the counter. "Screw it. I'm just gonna say you don't like her and that'll be the end of it."
Fuel tensed up again. "Don't tell her that!"
"Well I'm not gonna say you don't know what you want," Nichol rebuffed him. "How did I even wind up in the middle of this? Getting you some action isn't my job! Stupid Richie and her dumb schemes . . ."
"Girls are nuts and your sister's the worst of the bunch," Fuel huffed.
"I know she is. You don't have to tell me." Nichol regretted bringing the topic up in the first place. As far as he was concerned, Angie could do her own dirty work from then on. "Hey, do you think you could tell her to lay off?"
Fuel sneered at that. "Tell her yourself. I'm staying out of this mess of yours."
"This is your mess, man. Somehow I got stuck neck-deep in it though," Nichol told him, "and the only way any of us are getting out is with your help."
"Well what do you want me to do about it?" Fuel asked. "I can't ask her out and look like a big, dumb idiot when she says no. I don't wanna hurt her feelings by saying I'm not into her. What am I supposed to do?"
Nichol shrugged. "I dunno. Be honest, I guess?"
Fuel bristled. "I want to be, but apparently 'I don't know' isn't good enough."
Fed up with his friend's indecision, Nichol rolled his eyes. "Then man up and figure it out. I'm not gonna hold your hand for you."
"Some help you are."
"Fine then, don't listen to me," Nichol shrugged. "Go ask Claus what you should do since you think he's such a ladies' man."
Fuel winced. "I can't ask Claus about this!"
"Why not?" Nichol questioned him. "Afraid he might scoop Angie out from under you?"
Fuel had plenty of reasons not to talk to Claus about Angie, but that wasn't one of them. "Forget it. I gotta get back home anyway. I don't have time for this."
"Wait, don't go!" Nichol pleaded. "Did you need to get anything while you're here? We've got food and stuff. Fuel? Fuel! Come back! Don't leave me all alone!"
The jangling of the bell marked the door shutting behind Fuel. Maybe Nichol would think twice next time before he drove away his only companionship with his inane questions. It was a vain hope, Fuel knew, since this was hardly the first time Nichol's pestering nature left him all alone to mind the store.
Despite his rush to leave, Fuel was in no great hurry to get home. Normally he might come up with an excuse to visit Angie, but that was clearly out of the question now. At this rate he wasn't going to have anyone left to hang out with before spring arrived.
Angie didn't like him; he was sure of it. This was some dumb prank by Richie or Nichol and he wasn't going to play into their hands. Of course if she did like him he didn't have a clue what to do about it. The closest he'd ever come to this situation was being on the receiving end, and after he'd screwed that up he was feeling especially gun-shy. He didn't have anyone to turn to for advice; his dad wasn't exactly a wellspring of insight. Sure, he was happy to tell Fuel what to do in pretty much every other aspect of his life, but he wouldn't touch this topic with a two-by-four.
For someone whose decisions rarely got more complicated than picking which shirt to wear (and there weren't many to choose from), Fuel felt that figuring out what to do about Angie was like being thrown into the deep end without knowing how to swim. He couldn't even decide what he wanted, much less what to do about it.
Sure, Angie was a lot of fun to be around, but did he like her? He didn't know. What was that supposed to feel like? She didn't seem so different in his eyes from Nichol or Richie or Nana or Lucas or anybody else he knew. He did spend a lot of time with her, but he spent even more time with Claus and Lucas, so that didn't mean much.
When did things get so complicated? First Claus liked him, and now Angie – or so Nichol claimed. Whatever happened, he didn't want a repeat of last time. He had a reputation to live up to, after all, and screwing things up with Angie would not help. If he was going to let her down then he wanted to do it gently.
Wait. Let her down? The thought had slipped out so readily he nearly missed it. Some part of him had already decided he was going to let her down. He wanted to struggle against the conclusion, to say that he might like her if he tried. Again, he caught himself. "If he tried." That's not the sort of thing he'd think if he liked her that way; he was sure of that much at least.
For all his protesting to Nichol, all his hemming and hawing, even he didn't believe that he liked Angie. It should have been obvious to him when he didn't jump at the invitation to ask her out, that his heart didn't race when Nichol said that Angie liked him. The stray possibility that she might like him had crossed his mind on occasion, but never for more than a few moments and even when it had he was hardly enamored with the idea. His friends had ragged on him about Angie plenty of times, but he dismissed it as simply that: Claus and Nichol poking fun at him. It wasn't anything to be taken seriously until now.
Fortunately, Fuel had a go-to plan for situations like this: ignore it and eventually the problem would go away on its own. Sooner or later Angie would get over this crush – assuming it was even real – and things would go back to normal. No one would get their feelings hurt, he wouldn't have to go through an awkward conversation, and he could duck under all the melodrama that punctuated his otherwise simple small town life. Satisfied with his solution, Fuel kicked up his feet and headed back home.
