“Don’t even,” he’d grumbled when Tyler opened his mouth to point out the U2 resemblance. “You guys need to start coming up with something more original.”
“I was going to pivot to a more Sonny-and-Cher-style joke, but something tells me you won’t find that funny, either,” I deadpanned, and he cracked the smallest of grins.
“Ignore him,” Tyler chirped good-naturedly as he waved me to another side of the counter, piled high with stacks of flat cardboard. “He skipped his espresso today and has been cranky ever since.” He leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially to me, and I caught a whiff of his spicy cologne. “But between you and me, I can’t tell the difference between when he’s had it and he hasn’t.” The quip caught me off guard and I tried to stifle a snicker, but to no avail. Bono waved his hand in our direction and muttered something in Italian at Tyler, who took it in stride with a grin and told me that he had absolutely no idea what he said.
“All right, boss.” Tyler’s joking and good nature were warming me up toward him, and I was ready to get down to business. The place smelled less like pizza grease and desperation and more like warm, comfortable tomato sauce and bubbling cheese, and things felt like they were looking up. “What’s on the agenda for today?”
Tyler schooled his expression into mock seriousness. “Before you can learn the sacred art of putting toppings on a pizza, you have to learn the crucial base skill of working at Suburban Slices.” He lowered his voice to a hushed, awed whisper. “Folding pizza boxes.”
I blinked at him as my eyes traveled to the flat pile of cardboard on the counter. “You mean they don’t just come pre-folded? I never would’ve guessed.”
When Tyler threw back his head and laughed, a hot rush of pride surged through my chest, pleased that I was the one to elicit such a reaction out of him. He was still wiping the tears from his eyes when the front door to the restaurant opened, the little bell chiming to signal a new arrival.
“What’s got you in stitches, Ty? Anything good?” a purple-haired girl asked as she strode up to the counter, ears glinting with an array of piercings. Her lips were painted a dark berry red, so deep it was almost the color of her hair. Her gaze hesitated over me for a few seconds before turning back to Tyler. “New hire?”
Tyler nodded between the two of us. “Yep, this is Olive. Nunzio hired her yesterday, so we’re going over the ancient art of pizza box folding as her first training exercise.”
“Nice.” She nodded appreciatively, but her stoic expression didn’t change. She didn’t seem mean per se, but she definitely seemed prickly.
Tyler gestured in her direction. “Olive, this is Delia Franklin, my best friend and resident pain in my ass at all times.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I said primly, arranging my face into a warm smile. “I’m Olive Austin.”
Delia simply looked at me coolly, expression unreadable. “I know who you are, Olive. We go to school together.”
I felt my smile slip a little bit, concerned.How come I don’t remember any of these people?“Right.”
Delia heaved a sigh like the world was on her shoulders and leaned against the counter, rapping her knuckles on it lightly, silver rings and indigo nail polish glinting in the fluorescent lights. “Well, I’ll let you guys get back to your riveting task. I’m just here to pick up my check.” She gave us a wave and disappeared into Nunzio’s back office, and all I could do was stareat the spot she’d been standing, taken aback by the entire exchange.
“She works here?” I’d asked, perplexed.
Tyler nodded as he pulled sleeves of cardboard from the counter and settled them in front of us, ready to begin my training. “Not behind the counter. She’s the delivery driver most nights. It’s how we became such good friends. She can be a bit much when you first meet her, but she’ll grow on you eventually.”
I hummed in acknowledgment as I followed Tyler’s steps and started folding the boxes. It seemed like there was a comfortable rapport between the two of them, and even though I’d only known Tyler for twenty-four-ish hours at that point, I was startled by the low simmer of jealousy in my stomach.
I just had to hope that she’d grow on me, like Tyler said. It didn’t seem like there was anything romantic there—but at the time, there hadn’t been anything romantic between me and Tyler yet, either. Delia was another person in his world, someone I had to hopefully charm into liking me.
And grow on me she did. It didn’t take long for us to become a trio, constantly spending all of our weekends together walking around the mall, going to the movies, or making Taco Bell runs late at night and eating our hauls in Delia’s ancient, idling Camry in the fluorescent-washed parking lot. As someone whose household only consisted of myself and my mother, I often felt shy and awkward around my peers—it was the default that I hadn’t even realized I was leaning back on. But Delia and Tyler had a way of making me feel like I was meant to be there with them, and it was like my shyness evaporated into thin air.
At one point that summer, my mother commented that she always knew where all three of us were at all times becausewherever one of us was, it was inevitable that the other two would follow. She was thrilled that I’d finally found some friends that I was hanging with regularly, even though I knew she secretlydidlove the nights—even if they were getting rarer—when the two of us would curl up on our couch with fresh popcorn and put on a movie for some mother-daughter time.
And for the first time in my high school life, I found myself sinking into a group of friends who weren’t just polite acquaintances on the field hockey team, making idle chitchat at mandatory team bondings and pasta dinners. I was more of a floater at school, bouncing between groups with surface-level friendships, never able to really get past the stilted and awkward phase of getting to know someone—at least, not until Tyler and his extrovert tendencies helped break me out of my shell. With him and Delia, I finally felt like I was part of aunit.That I was a puzzle piece that fit effortlessly, clicking into a place in their lives with no force at all.
That is, until I blew everything up, and suddenly Delia didn’t want anything to do with me anymore. And it’s not like I can point any fingers with my role in the entire situation.
The summer Tyler and I worked at Suburban Slices was when we really got to know each other. All the chitchatting in between flipping pizzas, building boxes, and doling out saucy, gooey slices gave you a lot of time to get to know someone. We talked about everything from our favorite types of movies (early 2000s rom-coms for me, superhero films for him), movie theater candies (I’m a Sno-Caps girl, but Tyler is a popcorn loyalist and thinks it shouldn’t be tainted with any kind of chocolate), and other hobbies (tabletop games for Tyler and field hockey for me). The conversations even continued after work when he’d occasionallyoffer to give me a ride home, since he had his learner’s permit and his parents let him take their rusty Jeep to and from work—and I was the contraband passenger, where our chatter would continue right until he pulled up to my house and put the vehicle in park.
Right away, I knew that I was drawn to Tyler, that I liked him, but I didn’t realize how much. He always had an easy smile, the kind that made your blood fizzy when it was directed at you. He had that tantalizing dark hair and dark eyes combo. And even though it wasn’t legal at sixteen to have tattoos, he had a few stick-and-pokes from his guys’ nights of various little things—an old Atari gaming system, a slice of pizza (which he swore wasn’t related to his job at Suburban Slices), and even a random piece of toast.
Now, on this plane, I watch his hoodie sleeve on the armrest next to me, thinking of the ink that rests beneath it. It makes my heart pang in an uncomfortable way.
Back when I first met Tyler, he was quirky and funny and friendly in all the right ways. He was filled with adventure and promise—exactly the things you want at sixteen. Before you understand that life requires a lot more stability than stick-and-pokes and flimsy life plans.
Adventure and throwing caution to the wind are cute when you’re young. But if I’ve learned anything from Mom’s string of heartbreaks, it’s that those things don’t hold up in the real world for too long.
But I didn’t know that back then. In the moment, Tyler Ferris charmed me, and I wanted to stay in his orbit. That much Ididknow. Especially when, a few weeks after meeting Tyler, he asked me to be his girlfriend via a sweet, clumsily scrawled message onthe inside of a Suburban Slices pizza box. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget the nervous grin on his face as he presented the cardboard to me, speckled with grease and cheese from the heart-shaped pie he attempted, which resembled more of a blob but tasted as perfect on my tongue as when I told him yes.
Chapter Five
