I nodded. “Is he a dick?”
Christian chuckled and I kind of loved that sound—even now. I love it in the way you wish you could record your favorite person’s voice and play it when you miss them. In the way that I wish I could trap the sound in a jar, twist the top tightly, and save it for a rainy day.
It’s just…a really nice sound.
“He is,” he said. “Is your mom…mean?”
I shook my head. “No, she’s just…sad all the time, I guess.”
“What does your mom do?”
“She cleans houses. Your dad?”
“Something with technology. He’s always working. Investing or whatever else.”
“You don’t like it, I take it?”
“Not at all.” Christian frowned.
I frowned too, saddened for him. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he said, like the one who has to apologize is his father. “Do you like your mom?”
“I do,” I answered. “I love my mother. She can just be…a lot sometimes.”
My mom was grieving still, and I never understood how she could grieve a man who couldn’t stick around. My father left just after I was born, never showing his face again. But five years ago, we got a call. He’s dead. My mother was broken and I knew she was beyond repair.
“And your mom?”
“The same.”
Somehow, we ended up in deep conversation, getting to know each other, and one of his questions was, “What’s your favorite place in town?”
“Probably Katherine’s Dinner,” I shrugged. “I go with my mom a lot. Sometimes I go alone to study. I don’t know, it just feels safe.”
Christian looks at me now, smiling and squeezing my hand. And here I am with him in the parking lot of Katherine’s Diner for our first date. My favorite place with my new favorite person.
Levi’scar slows to a stop in front of my house, and the rush of relief I feel when I see the stupid McLaren is incomprehensible. The car ride back from the restaurant was mostlysilent—awkward enough to make my skin feel like an uncomfortable layer.
He puts the car in park and I turn my head toward him, keeping my body shifted toward the door. “Thank you,” I say. “For dinner and driving.”
Levi smiles. “Of course,” he says. “It was fun.”
I know he’s lying.
“Yeah,” I breathe. “Thank you.”
“Thankyou,” he chuckles. “I’d been waiting to take you out for years.”
“Really?” I try not to sound incredulous.
“Yeah,” he says. “Just thought…you know with…”
“Oh. Yeah.”
Levi leans forward to look out the window toward my driveway and sits back again. “He’s staying here?”
“No. Well... not really.” I sigh. “He’s just… trespassing.”
