Lily talks about camp, about a science project with crystals. Rye relaxes as Lily chatters. I ask questions but mostly watch them. How Rye fixes Lily’s napkin without thinking. How Lily checks if her mom’s laughing too.
This is their world. Complete and protected. I’m sitting at their table.
“Tell him about the talent show,” Rye says when Lily stops to eat.
“Oh! I’m playing my original song but with my guitar. I wrote the song myself and mom is helping me put music to it.”
“That’s great. My sister and I used to do that. How long have you been writing?”
“Forever,” she says as if she isn’t ten.
Rye and I laugh.
Lily rolls her eyes. “You know, she pretends she doesn’t know music stuff, but she’s actually good.”
Rye’s cheeks go pink. “Lily.”
“What? It’s true. You should hear her sing in the shower. She thinks the water covers it, but it doesn’t.”
I lean forward and whisper. “I know she can sing. I’m trying to get her to do it more.” And then glance at Rye, who blushes.
She clears her throat. “All right, you two. Subject change,” Rye says. “Who wants dessert?”
“Is it store-bought?” Lily asks.
“Yes, because I know my limitations.”
We clear the table together. Lily rinses, I dry, Rye puts away. Every time Rye’s hand brushes mine while taking a plate, I notice.
“Can I show Darian my song now?” Lily asks when we’re done.
Rye checks the clock. “Thirty minutes, then it’s reading time.”
“Mom,” Lily groans.
“Thirty minutes. It’s a camp night.”
Lily runs to the living room. Rye touches my arm. “You don’t have to stay.”
“You kicking me out already?”
“I’m giving you an out.”
“I don’t want one.”
She looks at me for a long moment. “Okay.”
With Lily in the other room, I put my hand on her hip. “Thank you for inviting me over.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I really want to kiss you,” I say as quietly as possible.
Rye bits her lower lip and nods. “Lily . . .”
“I know.” And I do know but it sucks because I don’t know where we stand. I’m fine being Rye’s friend and Lily’s teacher, if that is all Rye can handle right now. If all we’ll ever be is writing partners, so be it.
I follow Rye to the living room. Lily’s ready with her guitar when we get there. The song she plays is simple but real, lyrics about feeling different and finding your voice. She messes up once, keeps going, finishes strong.
