“Jay!” Mina’s voice rings loudly throughout my Jeep. I can only laugh, the joy too much to contain. “You’re smiling. I know you’re smiling.”
I am smiling. “You’re not wrong,” I admit. One hand rests on the steering wheel while the other pats my pocket. It holds a Polaroid of Ivy and me. Since I got in my truck, I’ve been continually checking to make sure it’s there, like it’s a passport for my heart to document our meeting.
“I knew it! I knew it!” No doubt, Mina is punching her fists in the air with the phone pressed to her ear. A crash on her end confirms it. I laugh again, knowing she’ll be back on the line soon.
“Sorry about that,” she mutters a second later. “Dropped my phone. Okay, tell me everything.”
“First, thank you for vouching for me.”
“I meant everything I said.”
I clear my throat to keep back the emotion. “Thanks, Mina. You know you’ve always been my favorite.”
Her laugh is the response I was hoping for. “Yeah, yeah. Okay, now tell me. What’s she like?”
Thinking of Ivy and how to describe her has my heart racing like I’m back in the ring. “Ivy is . . . she’s . . . she’s beautiful. She’s so beautiful. But she’s also a stunning person on the inside. Quick to laugh, witty, driven, and works in the arts. I feel like I’vebeen caught in a photo flash, and I won’t ever get the imprint of her out.”
The memory of the kiss we shared distracts me. I can almost feel my fingers threaded through her dark-golden hair, and I nearly swerve off the road. As I pull the wheel back, I say a prayer of thanks that I’m okay and shake my head.
“Wow. Okay, I knew this was going to be good, but this is beyond my expectations.”
I settle back into my seat. There’s no one on the road except me, and something about the endless path before me feels poetic.
“Mina, she’s the most captivating woman I’ve ever seen in my life. She was so open. Completely adorable. But she’s also elegant. She’s a dancer in a ballet company.”
“So, not a rock star?” she teases. “That’s so perfect for you! You love classical music!”
My face hurts from smiling. “Yeah, I do. And her best friend’s family does something with books. I was so nervous that the cookie I was holding started shaking, so I can hardly remember what it was, but still!”
“You love books!”
I approach the last traffic light before I turn onto the street that leads to the house where Angie, Mina, Edgar, and I live. Our parents live a few houses down from us. When we were old enough, the four of us decided to get our own place so we could have some independence and yet still be together. I’m a guy who’s grown up in New England and never moved to the city. My family has been enough for me, and I can’t imagine being away from any of them, but I wouldn’t want to be parted from Mina most of all.
“I’m almost home,” I tell her, knowing that she’s going to be waiting by the door, ready for more information.
“Excellent. I’ll put the tea on.”
I hear her moving and then the shuffle of cabinets opening.
“Don’t wake Edgar,” I whisper, even though there’s no way I could disturb him from my truck.
“I wouldn’t dare,” Mina whispers back, and I hear her filling the kettle. “I thought I would when I yelled earlier, but the coast is clear so far.”
We say our goodbyes quietly, even though we’ll see each other in a minute, the habit unbroken from sleepovers in the living room growing up. Mina and I are only a year apart, and even as we progress through our mid-twenties, we’re nearly inseparable.
As soon as I pull into our driveway, my Jeep taking its place as the last in the line of cars, I flip off the headlights and bolt from the car. Mina is already waiting in the doorway, the lights behind the glass door illuminating her small frame. She hops out onto the front step when I reach the bottom one—in her socked feet and all—and jumps into my arms.
“I’m so proud of you,” Mina encourages in my ear, and I hold her close, her signature smell of peppermint and acrylic paint tickling my nose. “I know it can be hard for you to open up to anyone besides me or the rest of our family. But you did it.”
The best part about Mina is that she sees people and accepts them as they are. I pull her closer one more time before releasing her.
“Let’s get you inside before you freeze.”
I follow her in and quietly take off my shoes. Within minutes, we’re huddled together on the enclosed back porch—something I built to keep the warmth in on nights like this. My telescope is in the corner, the one I’ve been tracking stars and constellations with since I was in high school.
“Before we go any further,” Mina says, the steam from her cup of tea trailing toward the wooden ceiling, “Mrs. Lark came over to thank you for shoveling her driveway again.”
I shrug like it was nothing.
