“But…you just agreed to it without, like—attacking me—”
“What about your date?” I interrupt. “Will it hurt her if you go with me instead?” If I’m going to be Not Selfish Teal, then I gotta think about things like this now. Even about the feelings of a woman I’m pretty sure I’d very much like to punch in the face, for reasons I don’t want to investigate right now, or ever.
“No. She won’t care.” Carter shrugs again and lets out a long breath. We’re both silent for a few seconds. “So you’re uh—still parked at the farm? Wanna walk back together?”
The question is so absurd, I break into a laugh. I mean, what was I going to do, make him wait here fifteen minutes while I got a head start?
Carter’s eyes are on me, unblinking, as his mouth curves into half a smile. He was always weird about making me laugh, even when we were kids. Acting like I broke into song or something, and it was his favorite sound in the whole world.
I push down whatever emotion is trying to ride up now at these thoughts and stomp around him. “Come on, flaco,” I say. “You’re probably still on the clock, aren’t you?”
“Hey, I’m not flaco anymore,” he says, jogging beside me, puffing his chest.
“Oh, I know,” I mutter.
He leans forward, trying to catch my eye. “What was that?”
“Nothing! Just saying that Sky’s the skinny one now.”
We hike back to the farm in silence, probably because the pace I set is just short of running. But I’m scared I’m going to open my mouth and mess everything up again. So I just focus on the sun, breaking open through the clouds, steaking toward us until we’re both aglow like living gold.
2
“Carter? CarterVelasquez?”
Leilani’s voice breaks up, but I hear her incredulity just fine, and it’s making me clench my teeth.
“Yup.” I run the sponge over the bowl in my hands. My phone’s on speaker, angled at me against the window over Nadia’s kitchen sink.
“But…it’sCarter. Isn’t he, like? You know? He’s got nothing going for him? And you’ve been complaining about him following you around like a puppy dog since I’ve known you. And now you’redatinghim?”
Carter doesn’t have “nothing going for him,” but she’s not wrong about the rest of it. Carterlike-liked me for a long time. We were tight when we were little, but when I was sixteen, I got tired of him always being everywhere all the time, those light honey eyes looking at me like I was the whole world when he knew, more than anyone, how broken I was. It wasn’t until we thought Sky was gone that Carter and I got close again. And by close, I mean late-night phone calls while Johnny slept, and himleaving me gifts at the gym or Nadia’s for my birthday and holidays.
Even then, things remained platonic. Well. Mostly platonic.
“It’s not dating. It’s just a wedding.”As friends, I don’t add, because I feel like it would sound like I’m protesting too much. Her tone already has me on edge as it is. I swear, I can feel the storm clouds gathering up on the water, marching here to Nadia’s like a line of thunderous soldiers.
“Yourex’swedding.” Leilani still sounds stupidly shocked. For nowhere near the first time in our friendship, I wonder if she’s high on some random organic, plant-based microdose.
I narrow my eyes at my phone. “What is your deal, Lani? You’re the one who’s been on my case to get out of the house and date guys with jobs.” The last three guys I’d hung out with were, in order: a musician, an entrepreneur, and a deejay. For these particular men, each of those careers was code for unemployed and couch surfing.
She sighs, exasperated. “I meant, like, guys with real jobs. Not bartenders.”
“He doesn’t work at Lost Souls anymore.”
“Okay, so now he hoists manure at the rose store. Real upgrade there.”
“What the fuck, Leilani?” I throw the pot back in the sink with a clatter. “Did you forget that my sister works at thatrose store, too? And so does her fiancé?”
There’s silence for a minute, and then she speaks with a choked-up voice. “I’m sorry, Teal. You’re right. I’m just so stressed out lately.”
I grab my phone and sit on the table, stretching my legs out. When I glance around, Sky’s leaning against the entrance of the kitchen. Her hair is so long, it reaches her waist, and the ends areas gold as Carter’s eyes. She narrows her eyes at my phone as she cradles…yep. She’s cradling a freakingsquirrel, running her fingers along the bronze fur of its tiny head.
I turn back to my phone. “What’s going on? You’re stressed about the move?” A few months ago, Leilani purchased what she keeps calling her “dream house,” but she hasn’t let me see it yet, not till “after renovations.” My guess is she’s having a giant, cream-colored crocheted swing installed, alongside a greenhouse for all her houseplants, and probably she’s waiting on expensive commissions from around the world for earth-tone tapestries to hang on every wall.
“It’s—a lot. I’ll tell you all about it on Sunday. It’ssuperawesome news. You’re going to be so excited to hear it!” Her teary voice is gone, replaced by nothing but cheer. It’s almost,almostlike the guilt was an act.
I stifle my sigh as I watch the clouds rolling in from the window. They’re not gray like I anticipated—instead they’re thick and white with the palest blue shadows. “Okay, girl. I’ll see you at the wedding on Saturday, right? And then we’ll be able to talk on Sunday.” Leilani and I have been renting our own booth at the Cranberry craft fair every year for the last three years. It runs from the first Sunday of spring to the last Sunday of fall. At first, renting a table was just an excuse to drink papaya mimosas from the Lost Souls Lounge table and watch all the hot, local carpenters lugging around their work, but then we started actually selling our own shit. It’s why I’m not worried about having just gotten fired. As long as I have my Sundays in the alternative parking lot of Cranberry Library, I’ll be able to make ends meet.
