Olivia met Adam in first grade. He was eating paper. "That's not food," she told him.
"How do you know until you try it?" he'd riposted.
Ten years later, they were still best friends. They had so much in common. They both liked algebra, and Monty Python, and boys.
On a late summer afternoon, the two of them sat under a tree, their textbooks face-down on the grass. Olivia tugged on Adam's curly pony-tail; she was the only one allowed to pulled it out to its full length and watch it snap back into a frizzy ball. "That boy at the 'Bou yesterday… He liked you. I could tell."
Adam shrugged. He was all collar-bones and big sleepy brown eyes and puffy lips. "He didn't really see me."
Olivia bit the insides of her lips, suppressing a smile. It was exactly what she had thought. The boy had been cute, and slick, and possessed of a sharp wit, but he wasn't good enough for Adam, as far as Olivia was concerned. All surface, no depth. She playfully tugged at the peach fuzz on Adam's chin. "I thought gay guys were supposed to be all, like, well-groomed and stuff."
Adam made a huffing sound. "Shaving daily is impractical, and a waste of time." He stretched and yawned, his long, skinny arms reaching out above his head. He smiled at Olivia, a sight that few ever saw. Everyone else at school thought he was so serious; only Olivia knew that he was being sarcastic most of the time. "What's happening this weekend?"
Only what happened every weekend. Olivia and Adam. Adam and Olivia. Olivia could never make herself want anything more.