Watch Me Disappear

around Missy and is not going to let her go. Jeff looks terribly amused in the way that adults often look at teenagers, which annoys me because he is only three years older than us. Besides Jen holds Jeff’s hand in a way that suggests she has no desire to be physically separated from him, if only by a table. We all stand there, no one choosing a seat.
    “Can we have that one?” Jeff asks, pointing to a big, circular booth in the corner.
    “That’s really for bigger parties,” the hostess begins, looking impatient, but Jeff gives her his winning smile, and her tone softens. “I guess it’s not going to be too busy tonight,” she says, leading us that way.
    We slide around into the booth, Paul and me in the middle, with Jeff and Jen to my right, and Missy and Wes to Paul’s left. We all order coffees, except Jen who gets tea, and Missy and Jeff order pie. We only have to suffer awkward silence for a minute before Paul can’t take it anymore. “So you’re a soccer player?” he asks, turning to Jeff. I know we won’t have another lapse in conversation for the rest of the night. If you want nonstop chatter, just put Jeff, Missy, and Paul at the same table. Jeff is a storyteller, Paul is a questioner, and Missy is both. Also Wes is in a good mood, which is a relief. I wasn’t sure how he’d be with Paul here, but he is acting relaxed, like when I first met him. He seems happy enough to add details to Missy’s stories, as if his ability to do so is proof of their flourishing romance or something. Actually, they’re acting like a boring old married couple, but at least everyone is getting along. 
    Jeff regales us with stories about college life and hands out advice about choosing a college and writing application essays like he’s some sort of expert. He is working in the admissions office, so I guess he has some inside information, but mostly I think he’s just enjoying his senior status at our table. He and Paul talk about sports and Missy asks Jen a million questions about southern living, since Jen is from Georgia. Jen isn’t much of a talker, though, so her answers tend to be shorter than Missy’s long, rambling questions. We sit there longer than the waitress would like, taking up precious time at her biggest table, downing free refills of coffee and not much else. At least we leave her a big tip.
    It is freezing when we go back outside. Jeff and Wes, good boyfriends that they are, wrap themselves around their girls as we walk down the block toward the cars. Paul and I walk along behind them, taking turns shoving each other playfully to the side. When we reach the parking lot, Wes is suddenly in a big hurry to take off, which leaves the four of us standing there in the cold dark.
    Jeff extends a hand to Paul. “Take care of my sis,” he says.
    “As if she were my own.”
    Their handshake turns into that fake boxing thing guys are so fond of, and that turns into some typically male wrestling hold, and then Jeff is clapping Paul on the back and Paul is getting into his car.
    “I’ll pick you up at 8 tomorrow,” he says to me, before he shuts the door.
    I get in the back seat and give Jeff some directions to get us home.
    “Lizzie, he is so cute,” Jen says, turning around in her seat to look at me. It is the first time she’s attempted to initiate conversation with me all weekend.
    “He’s just a friend,” I say.
    “Mom said he’s at our house like three times a week. And you two are skipping the semi tomorrow together, right?” Jeff asks.
    “Yeah, but if we weren’t just friends, maybe we’d be going to the semi together,” I say.
    “I bet he likes you,” Jen says.
    I fill them in on how Paul and I became friends thanks to his crush on Missy.
    “Whatever,” Jeff says. “Wes seems to have a pretty firm grip on Missy.”
    “And Paul and I are just friends,” I say.
    “I’ll bet you’ve never seen When Harry Met Sally ,” Jen says.
    I haven’t.
    “Well, you should. Believe me, men and women cannot be friends.”
    I want to believe her, but I know Paul is not interested in me. Still all night I have been letting myself pretend that Paul and I are a couple, just like Jeff and Jen and Wes and Missy. It’s fun to pretend. And we have better chemistry than Missy and Wes any day, anyone can see that. There is none of the under-the-surface tension lurking between us that has recently developed between them. Maybe if I were prettier, thinner, taller. Maybe if I were nicer,