Not Always a Positive Thing to See a Few Seconds Into the Future

"Shut up!" I squealed loudly, poking at the band of Robert Brewster's boxers where they hung out of his jeans with the very tips of my pointe shoes. He had been making far too much fun of me for someone who didn't seem capable of finding a belt. And for someone who sat up ramrod straight like my mama's front room couch was in the waiting room of a funeral parlour.

The toe poking served two purposes – to annoy him but also to make him relax some. We were friends. At least I thought we were friends. We had been hanging out, on and off but mostly on, for the past month. It was like he had taken it upon himself to fill the best friend void that his girlfriend had left in my life. The least he could do was sit back on the couch or something. "I do not look like a cupcake! This is a very classy, lovely, princess ballet costume. I'm Juliet," I added plaintively, flipping around to ram my head against Robert's shoulder a few times, just to make my point clear if it wasn't before.

I was a princess.

"Jesus, what are you, my little brother?" In a flash, Robert had "relaxed"... if relaxing meant his arms looping around me to hold me in a tight headlock. At least he wasn't doing the funeral parlour sit any more. "Normal girls don't headbutt their friends, Gentile."

"Well, normal boys don't throw little girls into headlocks!" I sassed back immediately, my hands flying up to tightly grip onto Robert's forearms and try to wrangle myself free. "Rob-ert!" I whined, the carefully practiced pretty pout that had worked on Alex a thousand times crossing my face as my eyes met his.

Or was it his eyes meeting mine?

And as a thousand fireworks rose and fell and exploded across the portrait window of my mama's front room, Robert and I stared at each other. His arms were still around me. But closer to my shoulders. Closer to my ribcage. And my hands were still on his arms. And for a split second, I think our chests rose and fell together like every single romance novel cliché that Heather had ever quoted to me after too many Bacardi Breezers.

"Oh shit." Forgetting that I hated curse words, Robert awkwardly tousled my hair to end the headlock and then scrambled off the couch, gesturing vaguely at the clock on the mantel. "I told Marty I'd shoot some hoops with him at the SU gym today. He wants to get in as much practice as he can 'fore the season ends. Sorry, Andi, you know you can't turn down the Bukeman."

Without reaching up to fix my hair, I nodded up at Robert. It was true. You couldn't turn down the Bukeman. And though Robert had quit the team for Stacey only a few weeks into the season, I knew what his barely available babysitting girlfriend didn't. Robert still loved the game. He wouldn't turn down any chance to play. Couldn't.

Also. After the fireworks moment, it was probably good that he was leaving. "See, Robbie, this is why I always say that you need to start using your agenda. Double-booking yourself, tsk tsk." I didn't rise up from the couch, but I did smile charmingly up at the lanky boy looking lost in my front room. Mixed signals. "It's okay. I have cupcake dancing to practice. I'll see you at school tomorrow."

With that, Robert grabbed his backpack, waved awkwardly at me and shuffled out of my house. Which you'd think would be enough to get him and that weird moment in the middle of our wrassling out of my head. It wasn't. Of course it wasn't.

Which was why far too long later I was still sitting on the couch in pointe shoes and my ballet competition costume when Alex poked his head around the double doors into the front room. Alex. It felt like it had been way too long since I had talked to him. Really talked to him. And I hadn't even heard a knock or anything at the front door.

Alex's face still held that carved out of stone look that I had barely seen slip, except for when he was around Stacey and his friends that "got it", since his dad... "Andi. Can we talk?"

Oh. Oh no. No. No. No. I had seen dozens of romantic comedies. I had watched Sex and the City even though I was way too young for it. I knew what that question meant. "No," I said stubbornly, pulling my legs up onto the couch and hugging my knees against my chest, creasing the front of my ballet costume.

"It wasn't really a question," Alex replied quietly, sitting on the couch next to me while making every effort possible not to touch me. The illusion of closeness without any of the reality. "We need to talk. Things are different."

That was true. "You're jealous," I said softly, thinking about the way he had been looking at Robert, fire behind his stone face, ever since his best friend had become my best friend.

That was true too. "You're possessive," Alex added dully. "Sometimes I think you're going to launch yourself at Darcy Redmond's face when I talk to her at school."

That was true too. Darcy and her stupid blonde hair. "We suck as a couple."

True. True true true. Alex let out a hoarse laugh, running his fingers through his hair. "Yeah. We do, Princess."

Oh gosh. I let out a sniffle and suddenly realized I was crying, silently, my back shaking with the effort of containing the sound. "So. What happens now?" I knew the answer to that but I needed to ask it anyway. I needed Alex to be the one to give the ultimatum-answer.

"We gotta take a break. Of... you know... everything. Take some time apart to get better." Alex happened to glance over and see the tears running down my cheeks. He suddenly seemed to come to life and, sighing heavily, he pulled me into his arms. "Andi. You said it, we suck. We gotta get to the place where we can be us again."

"Without all of this dating stuff."

"Yeah."

For a long moment, Alex and I sat quietly together, his chin resting on my head as I wrecked my carefully applied makeup. I didn't realize then that this was not not not going to be the last time we would have to do this.

"So. When you leave, I guess we're going to have to just... not talk. For a little while."

Alex's chin banged against the top of my head as he nodded his agreement and I let out a huge sigh. I was wearing my princess ballet dress and everything felt messy and ragged and decidedly not like a fairy tale. What were you supposed to do or say now?

Alex seemed to feel the same way, at the same loose ends. So after a long long time, he tilted his head and pressed a small kiss on the top of mine. And then he was gone out the front door, already practicing the whole "not talking" thing we had agreed upon.

And what did I do? I picked up the phone, called Robert's house and asked his mother to please have him call me when he got home from playing basketball with Marty Bukowski.