My eyes track the guy in front of us in line, receiving his steaming plate and walking toward some of the picnic tables set up in the shade. When he turns around, I find myself blinking in surprise, staring at none other than Poseidon himself, looking just as at home in his casual surfing attire in this atmosphere as he did back at the campus dorms. For a second, I think he doesn’t recognize me—or worse, is ignoring me after the weird spectacle from yesterday—but he shoots me a wink as he breezes past with his tray, calling out to a group of friends at a nearby picnic table.
The loco moco heaped in front of him looks monstrously large, but at the same time, I can’t deny that the scent wafting our way is making my mouth water.
Ty nudges my shoulder with a satisfied smirk. “Told you.”
I cross my arms and sniff, trying to pull off indignant but actually trying to breathe in more of the salty, meaty, hearty smell that—yes, I’ll admit it—seems pretty dang good. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Ty. I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to.” His answer is immediate as we move up to the register and he slips his wallet out of his back pocket. “You forget that I know you, Olive. I don’t need you to tell me what you’re thinking.”
His words hit like the shock of the plane dipping during turbulence, low in my belly. And the stinging chaser is the unwanted thought in the back of my mind.
Jack doesn’t know me like that. He never did.
I sneak another glance at Tyler, who is beaming excitedly at the cashier as he hands over some bills and orders us two plates of loco moco and bottles of Coke. This boy who’s taking me to try new foods and knows what’s on my mind without me even having to open my mouth. While the boy I’msupposedto be with is back in his dorm room, nudging socks with a girl who isn’t his girlfriend, probably making plans for a future with her, too cowardly to tell me.
That thought is too much to process after an already exhausting day and a half, so I turn and follow Tyler to an empty picnic table instead, mind swirling.
Could it have always been like this?
And if so, then why did I ever think it was a good idea to screw it up?
Chapter Nineteen
“Oh mygod,” I groan, clutching my stomach and nearly doubling over on the picnic table. “That was absolutely phenomenal. No notes.” The loco moco was a perfect mix of a starchy, salty, meaty meal to fill me up after an entire flight yesterday of Coke and candy and bags of chips, and my eyelids start to get heavy. A post-Thanksgiving feeling in the springtime. Unlike Jack, Tyler clearly knows how to order for me.
He smirks proudly as he scoops up the last bit of rice and runny egg on his plate and pops it into his mouth. “I told you. It’s going to be a long day of exploring if you plan on doubting everything I take you to.”
I wipe my face with a napkin and tip it up to soak in the sunshine, soaking it in and giving my stomach a chance to breathe. “Okay, I won’t doubteverything.But you have to admit, loco mocodoessound a little strange when you describe it to someone at first.” Tyler laughs at this and picks up our plates, throwing them away before joining me back at the table. He rests his chin on his hand and looks at me curiously, his dark eyes scanning my face.
“All right, tour guide.” I swallow back a burp, cheeks reddening. “Where to next?”
To my surprise, he hesitates. “We should probably digest for a little while before we go to the next spot I had in mind. Do you want to talk about what happened yesterday?”
I can feel the walls of my heart closing off with every word that comes out of his mouth. “I already told you what happened,” I mumble, chest tightening. Tyler shakes his head, looking a little exasperated at my response.
“You told me whathappened,Olive. You didn’t tell me how youfeel.”
How I feel is embarrassed. Heartbroken. Ashamed. But I don’t say any of those things to Tyler, because I long since lost the right to tell him those things about me. “Stupid. I feel stupid.” I can’t meet his eyes, so instead I trace the grooves in the wood on the picnic table, running my fingernail over a heart with a hastily scrawledJ + Mcarved into the wood. I briefly wonder where J and M are now. If they’re still together. If they’re happy. I’d like to think at least someone is, if it can’t be me.
“Stupid?”Tyler’s face screws up in confusion, and he leans forward as if he didn’t hear me correctly. “Why would that asshole make you feel stupid?”
I shake my head, rushing to correct him. “Not because of what he did. I’m not taking the blame for that—I’m sad about it, sure, but that was Jack’s own asshole decision to make. But I’m feeling stupid, because…” I trail off, the words getting lodged in the base of my throat, refusing to come out.
They don’t have to, though, because like Tyler so rightfully declared earlier, he knows me. “You feel stupid because you feel like your mom.” He doesn’t phrase it as a question, and I nodslowly in response, eyes burning a hole into the picnic table’s wood, into the tiny carved heart.
Tyler reaches out and dips a finger under my chin, urging me to look up at him. When I do, there’s a fire blazing in his eyes, but it doesn’t look like anger—it looks like something more.
“Olive Austin,” he whispers, his voice hoarse and nearly impossible to hear among the chatter of the customers around us. “You are anything but stupid. And, as much as I love Sherri, you are nothing like your mother.”
My heart squeezes at the sincerity in his voice, but I force myself to turn my head out of his grip, focusing on the mountains rising behind us instead. “Are we really sure about that, though? My mom goes through a million men, each time swearing they’re the one, letting herself fall and then getting hurt. Again and again. You’ve seen it, Ty. You know what it’s like.” Heat rushes to my face as I feel the hot prick of tears in the corners of my eyes. “I never had any doubts that she loved me, or that she loved every single one of the men that she swore was going to give her the fairy tale she’s always wanted. But she ended up broken every time.” All the nights on the couch. All the weeks where she moved through the house like a zombie. Is that what waits for me? Sometimes, I can’t help but wonder.
“Olive.” Tyler’s voice is gentle as he reaches out and swipes an errant tear off my cheek with the pad of his thumb, making me shiver. “Not everyone gets the fairy-tale first-try romance.”
“Not even us.”
He looks sad as he smiles ruefully. “Not even us. But that doesn’t mean every heartbreak you have will be a prophecy for the rest of your life. You’re only eighteen and you’ve only had one heartbreak. I’d say that’s well below average.”
My mind snags on theonein his sentence. “What do you mean, one heartbreak? This is my second.” Although it feels noticeably different than the first—it’s not lost on me that this time, I’m more concerned about howIfeel about my future, and less about what Jack did to me. The thought twists uncomfortably in my stomach, the same way it did when I was on the phone with Mom last night.
