Vera and I grab the beers and head down to the basement together, which hasn’t changed a lick since we were kids. In fact, I’d bet twenty bucks that there’s still a half-watched Die Hard VHS in the VCR right this very second.

We plunk down on the side-by-side beanbag chairs.

“So, this is unexpected,” she says.

I can’t help but wince. There’s no censure in her tone, but it would almost be easier if there were. “I wish that weren’t true. I wish you’d been able to just assume that I’d be here to support you.”

I pause for a minute and consider telling her everything. That I’m really just a kid in a grown-up’s body. That I’m constantly one second away from screwing everything up in my life. That I’ve been trying to juggle everything perfectly and to my absolute and utter horror, I’ve just realized that Vera’s one of the things that’s slipped through my fingers. I want to tell her that everything she’s going through with Mom and Dad—the skeptical expressions, the passive aggressive needling, the constant underlying doubt—that I went through all of that, too.

We talk for a minute about Mom and Dad, but before I can figure out how to steer the conversation in the direction I want it to go, her phone starts ringing. She digs it out from her pocket.

She makes a big show of frowning, but there’s a flash of vulnerability when she sees who’s calling. My stomach drops. It’s definitely a dude who’s calling her right now. Vera has, let’s just say, interesting taste in men. Which is why I’ve tried so hard to set her up with Fred. She just needs to meet someone who doesn’t hide most of himself from her. She needs someone as genuine as she is. “Uh-oh. Who’s the guy?”

She glowers at me. “Ugh! When did you become all-knowing? It’s annoying!”

“Oh, crap. So it really is a guy? Vera, no!”

“What’s wrong with me getting a phone call from a guy?”

“It’s not the phone call that’s the problem. It’s your taste in guys.”

“What’s wrong with my taste?”

“You have a proclivity for fuckboys.”

“I do not! I . . .” She sags, apparently deciding that this argument isn’t worth the energy. “Oh, fine. Yes, in the past I’ve been attracted to fuckboys.”

“In the past? So this guy isn’t a fuckboy?”

“Welllllllll.”

“Oh, Vera.”

“He’s definitely the best guy I’ve ever had a crush on. He’s sweet and supportive and a good listener.”