Her Best Friend's Brother (2 page)

“So they are dating, but not go to a wedding with me dating, or not fly to North Carolina for a weekend with me or…” Libby couldn’t go on. It was too awful. Tony.

Girl. Cat’s eye glasses. Suddenly she completely agreed with Mel that 1950’s eye glasses were obviously tacky.

“I don’t know. I got the impression they had gone out a few times but it isn’t like I found her name scrawled next to his on his school books or anything. He is going to love the dress. You know he and Olivia have never been very close. I didn’t realy think he minded missing out on the wedding, and then the other day I told him about Cory

—and that you were my new date. Voila, home for the weekend. Makes you think.”

But al Libby was thinking of as she walked to her car with her bags was little miss turtlenecks and her cat’s eye glasses. Stephanie. She even had a stupid name.

Actualy Libby had an aunt named Stephanie, and the name had never bothered her before. But she hadn’t been thinking objectively then, and of course now she was al about objectiveness—right. It shouldn’t matter. She knew about objectiveness—right. It shouldn’t matter. She knew Tony dated, she knew he had had girlfriends. Some of those girlfriends had been to the Marchetti’s for dinner on nights when Libby was also there. But now, wel was it her imagination that she and Tony had gotten closer lately?

Certainly he hadn’t ever emailed her last year while he was away at school, and then there had been al those late nights in his bedroom.

Last summer when Libby’s mom had been invited to teach a two week workshop at some pastry school in Pennsylvania Libby spent 14 perfect days at the Marchetti’s home. Not that she was glad when Mel caught a nasty stomach bug the last 5 days of her visit, but she hadn’t been in a hurry to turn Tony down when he offered to take the couch and give Libby his bed so she would stay germ free.

Tony had made a smal attempt to clean up, and of course Mrs. Marchetti had changed the sheets, but it was stil his room. His bed. His space. Just remembering gave her goose bumps. The Tuesday that Mel started feeling il the new sleeping arrangements were finalized and her things were moved to Tony’s room by 7:00. It had been too early for bed realy, but for the first time in eight years she had felt awkward and out of place in the Marchetti home. With the family room transformed into Tony’s temporary bedroom, there weren’t a lot of options. So she had changed into her pjs, borrowed a book from the family library, and settled nervously on top of Tony’s twin bed to read and wait for sleepiness to claim her.

At first she almost didn’t hear the knock at the door. But then came a louder knock. “Libby? You aren’t asleep already are you?” Tony’s voice always gave her heart flutters but Libby had forced herself to sound calm.

“No. Come on in. Is this okay?” Libby gestured indicating where she was sitting on his bed.

“Of course.” Tony puled a face and shook his head at her. “We told you it was fine a milion times. I don’t mind the couch realy – Mom never let me have a TV

in here anyway, and in the dorm I got used to faling asleep to Letterman’s top ten. I just thought it was pretty early. In al the years I’ve known you I don’t think I have ever seen you hit the sack before midnight.”

“Wel I usualy have very important and secret slumber party rituals to complete” Libby was relaxing more and finding that talking to Tony in her pjs, in his bedroom wasn’t al that different from talking to Tony anywhere else.

Except that now she wasn’t wearing a bra, and that had realy started to matter lately. Shivering nervously Libby looked around for a discreet way to cover herself.

Tony must have seen her shiver because he grabbed a blue hoodie off a hook on the back of the door, and tossed it to her. “Here … it can get chily in here.” He made himself a little busy straightening the frame holding his high school diploma on the wal for several seconds.

“Thanks.” Libby shrugged into his sweatshirt inhaling deeply the mix of his cologne and laundry detergent

–a smel that was distinctly his.

When she looked up Tony was looking at her a little strangely. “It is clean. I wore it for a few minutes yesterday, but only out to the mailbox and back, it’s clean.”

“Okay. It’s clean.” Now Libby almost thought Tony might have been the nervous one, but that was probably just her over active imagination Shaking off the weird moment Tony produced a very battered monopoly box from under his arm. “I thought we could play. Maybe it’s time we had our own slumber party rituals.” The last part was said with a teasing grin and despite the fact that her heart was desperately trying to pound its way out of her chest an easiness settled back over them. Tony sat cross legged at the foot of the bed and set up the board between them.

They played for hours, and talked the whole time.

It was the first time Libby could remember having any lengthy conversation with Tony that didn’t also include another member of the Marchetti clan. And they talked about a lot of stuff. First they debated the strategy behind great monopoly players: green properties vs. blue (green obviously), and utilities vs. railroads (railroads if you could get al four of them were the better deal by far). Eventualy the topics spun off and they were discussing life, and classes, and coleges. When Libby admitted she had tried out for cheerleading at the end of the school year Tony laughed.

“You would make a terrible cheerleader.”

“I wasn’t that bad.” Libby whispered practicaly too herself. She could jump and giggle as wel as anyone else. Besides she knew perfectly wel that Tony had dated else. Besides she knew perfectly wel that Tony had dated Elen Kirkpatrick for months his senior year, and she had been the cheeriest of cheerleaders.

“Don’t get al sulen on me, Libby.” Tony chuckled and shook his head at her. “Every year you come over for the super bowl, and every year you make me explain the rules of footbal, and every year you fal asleep before it’s over! And that’s the most exciting game of the year. No way you make it through a high school footbal game every Friday night for an entire season. No way.”

“You might be right about that.” Libby chewed on her lip as she counted out the price for Pacific Avenue. “I think I am going to try out for track and field. I like to run.” Tony stiled for a moment and raked his eyes over her the length of her body. “Yeah.” His voice was a little huskier than normal. “I could see that. You definitely have the legs for it.”

Just remembering the appraising way his eyes had settled on her legs where they were stretched out along the edge of his bed was enough that she could feel a blush rising to her cheeks.

Every now and then Tony would smile at her. Like when she told him that she remembered what a good story teler he had been as a kid, and that journalism sounded like a good idea. It was not the
I love my life
easy-going-Tony smile she was used to. It felt like a new only-for-Libby smile. When Libby could no longer hold back her yawns they checked the time; it was actualy early morning and Tony had long ago missed The Top Ten.

“Should we cal it a draw? Or see who has the most cash?” Tony smiled slyly and Libby knew exactly what he was up to.

“No way Marchetti! I have 3 monopolies! You might have more cash but a few more turns around the board and it wil al be mine! Nothing doing – we can finish tomorrow.”

“How do I know you won’t cheat during the night?” Tony played along with mock outrage. So they carefuly wrote down who owned what and their cash totals and they even went to the extreme of carrying the board to the garage and locking it inside. When the door was locked and the key solemnly slid underneath Mr. and Mrs.

Marchetti’s bedroom door (for safekeeping) the hilarity of it Marchetti’s bedroom door (for safekeeping) the hilarity of it al (compounded by the fact that it was now almost 2:00 in the morning) over took them and they exploded into giggles. Giggles! Anthony Marchetti actualy giggled!

Libby grinned at the memory.

When they caught their breath Tony walked her back to her room, his room realy, and for one excruciatingly long moment things got weird again. Exciting weird. At the door to his room she turned to say goodnight, and found him only inches away from her. With one arm braced against the door frame over her shoulder he leaned in and was so close she could almost taste his breath. It occurred to her that if she arched into him even a little bit she would feel his hard chest against her body. And after eight summers of beach vacations with him she had a true appreciation of his upper body.

“This was fun. You know, Libby, I think this is the first time we have ever played together. We should do it again.” His voice went al husky and low. Was he flirting with her? No, he couldn’t be— but stil this was new.

“We can finish the game tomorrow, and we play scrabble al the time at the beach.” Scrabble was a Marchetti family vacation staple. Tony looked almost confused for a moment, and then his smile returned. Not the only-for-Libby smile, but the old friendly smile.

“‘Night Lib.” Tony straightened up, reached out to open the door behind her, and turned and walked down the hal. For one fantasy moment she had thought Tony had actualy been about to kiss her. Even though she was exhausted it took her a very long time to drift off to sleep that night, and she nearly slept through Mrs. Marchetti’s huevos rancheros the next morning.

The next night instead of sitting on the bed Tony wheeled in his father’s office chair. It made the smal room even smaler, and Libby felt a certain loss at sitting on the bed alone. “I must be getting too old to sit up al night with no back support.” Tony joked as he settled into the chair.

For just one fleeting second she thought she saw him look sort of longingly at the empty space on the bed.

Monopoly lasted three more nights, with Tony holding on through stupid barters, and desperate trades.

Honestly Libby purposely let him make those stupid barters just to drag out the game, but somehow she had the feeling that he knew what she was up to and he didn’t seem to that he knew what she was up to and he didn’t seem to mind. Every now and then his voice would drop an octave and tease her in that new way that made her heart leap, but there were no more moments when she could taste his breath. No more
is he going to kiss me
goodnights. Each night they locked up the board as if it were the most important game of monopoly in the history of games of monopoly, and each night Libby lay awake far too long afterwards reliving each word, and each smile.

On Friday night Tony finaly, albeit grudgingly, admitted his utter defeat in monopoly. This seemed a little convenient since she was going home the next day.

“Libby?” Tony took a deep breath. “Libby, did you realy like those stories I used to tel? When we were kids?”

“I don’t know if
like
is the right word—since your sister and I would be awake for days afterwards afraid to close our eyes…. but… yeah. They were good.”

“Did you know I used to write them down? Not just when we were kids, but I wrote a lot of stuff my last couple of years in high school. It would be cool, I think, if I wrote something people actualy read. Not just a newspaper article that is going out with the recycling but the kind of thing people kept on their shelves and read over again every once in a while.”

“A book. Tony you are talking about writing a book and I think that is fantastic.” Libby smiled wide and bright because she knew Tony was sharing something with her, and because she knew he could write a phenomenal book.

Tony smiled back. Her special just-for-Libby smile. “Yeah. A book. I want to write a book.” He breathed out a deep sigh. “I think I could do it. A colection of short stories, or maybe I’l realy go for broke and spin out a ful length novel. A thriler. I love a good thriler you know?” It al came out in a rush and Libby was so swept up in his excitement that she threw her arms around him and squealed.

“Go for it Tony. Go for broke—it’s gonna be great!” Less than a second later Libby realized what she had done. And from her head to her toes she felt every inch of her skin come alive. Slowly, almost hesitantly, Tony’s arms circled around her waist. He barely touched her at first, and then suddenly he tugged her against him in a tight hug. His hands splayed open across her back pressing her hug. His hands splayed open across her back pressing her torso to his. She had wanted to open her hands against his back, and feel the muscles she knew, from lots of careful observation, were there. But an instant later his hands were at her hips and he was setting her carefuly away from him.

“Thanks Lib.” Without looking away from her, he reached over to his desk and puled out a pretty battered spiral notebook. “Maybe you could read some of these.

Just enough to tel me if they are any good. Really. I need you to be honest with me.” Tony shoved the book at her.

“The stuff at the back is the most recent. I know the grammar wil need some work, but…” He was actualy rambling. Tony Marchetti had lost his cool talking to her!

Definitely a highlight of her life so far.

“Not tonight—since I am sure I wouldn’t sleep, but as soon as the sun is up I would love to read these.”

“Don’t… this isn’t public knowledge okay? Mel doesn’t need to know about this.”

“Of course! I won’t tel anyone.” It rankled her that he felt the need to even say such a thing. This was clearly personal for him and not her business to be spreading around.

“I know you won’t Lib. You’re a good friend.” Softly he leaned in and brushed his lips against her forehead. Her forehead! Like a child! But it was a kiss, and hope bloomed warm and bright in her heart.

And his stories realy were great. Now that Libby was old enough not to let them give her bad dreams at night. That was how the email-pal bit had gotten started.

With Mel no longer incapacitated it wasn’t like Libby had a reason to have many private conversations with her brother. So she had started emailing him as she finished each story, and he would email her back. When she had read the last story there hadn’t felt like a need to stop emailing him. And surely he would have let her know if she was starting to pester him—wouldn’t he?