Free The Boy Next Door by Meg Cabot Page B

discover that it, like most popular Manhattan eateries, has been overrun by out-of-towners. There is a two-hour wait for a table. I suggest we go for a slice at Joe’s, which as you know has the best pizza in the city. On the way, John tells amusing anecdote about his brother and a drunken midnight pilgrimage to Joe’s. I say I did not know he had a brother, and then he says he meant a fraternity brother. This is upsetting: I don’t know if I ever told you that after a particularly embarrassing incident back when I was in college, involving a Delta Upsilon and a sock, I vowed never again to date another frat guy.
    Then I remembered that this was not a date, but a friendly outing like you suggested, and I was able to relax again.
    22:30–24:00
    Pizza consumed standing up because there is no place to sit. While we eat, I relate amusing anecdote about how one time I ran into Gwyneth Paltrow at Joe’s, and she ordered a slice with veggies and sauce but no cheese! This leads to discussion about my job, and how much I want to write features. It turns out John has been reading Page Ten, and admires my sprightly but pithy style! Those were the words he used! Sprightly! And pithy!
    I am sprightly and pithy, aren’t I?
    So then I tried to talk to him about his job. I thought I could subtly find out the truth about that whole nipple thing.
    But he didn’t want to talk about himself at all! He just wanted to know where I went to college, and stuff like that. He kept asking all these questions about Lansing. As if that’s interesting! Although I did my best to make it interesting. I told him about the time the Hell’s Angels came to town, and of course about the tornado that took out the middle school’s cafeteria (unfortunately during summer, so we didn’t even get out of going to class).
    Finally, I ran out of steam and suggested we head home. But on our way to the subway, we passed a bar where live blues was being played! You know I can’t resist the blues. I don’t know if he saw me looking wistful or what, but he went, “Let’s go in.”
    When I saw there was a $15 cover and two-drink minimum I was, like, “No, we don’t have to,” but he said he’d buy the drinks if I paid the cover, which I thought was very decent because you know those places charge like ten bucks just for a beer, and so we went in and I got a second wind and had a very fun time and drank beer and ate peanuts and threw the shells on the floor and then the band took a break and we realized it was midnight and we were both, like, “Oh, my God! Paco!”
    So we rushed home—we split a cab, which was expensive, but at that time of night was much faster than the subway—and got home before any major accidents or howling had occurred, and I said good night by the elevator, and he said we should do it again sometime, and I said I would love that and that he knows how to reach me, andthen I went into my apartment and took a shower to wash all the smoke from the bar out of my hair, and Febrezed my new dress.
    You will note that no passes were made (by either party) and that everything was very friendly and aboveboard and mature.
    And now I hope you are ashamed of yourself for all the mean things you thought about him because he is really very sweet and funny and wore the nicest jeans I ever saw, not too tight, but not baggy either, with some very interesting faded parts, plus his sleeves were rolled up to just below his elbows—
    Uh-oh, here comes George. He’s going to kill me because he still wants tomorrow’s pages. Gotta go.
    Mel

To: Nadine Wilcock
    From: Mel Fuller
    Subject: Wait a minute….
    why didn’t he make a pass at me? Oh, my God! I really must be hideous after all!
    Mel

To: Jason Trent
    From: John Trent
    Subject: The redhead has something to do with this, doesn’t she?
    Well, of course .
    John

To: Mel