“Yes, they are.” I am hyper-aware of his proximity to me now, and I wonder if he’s noticing it, too. He must feel it. But what if he doesn’t? What if this is just how he is with his friends, and he really is physically repulsed by me? What the hell, might as well find out.
Swallowing hard, I say, “Liam, I’ve been wondering something. Have you ever heard of a meet-cute?”
“Can’t say I have.”
“Hmm, okay then. Do you think two people who meet, if one of them, say, finds the other one sort of repulsive, that he could later decide she’s not actually that gross and that maybe she’s attractive?”
By the time I’m done rambling, we’ve reached the front steps. I turn and look up at him, only to see a confused look on his face.
I touch him on the chest, and say, “Don’t worry about it. I’ve had too much to drink. I’m not making any sense.”
“No, you are,” he says, nodding. “You’re referring to the expression on my face the first time I saw you.”
I blink a few times, glad I’m not sober.
“That wasn’t repulsion, believe me,” he says in a low tone.
“Then what was it?”
“Fear.”
We both stand perfectly still, staring at each other, and I’m pretty sure my expression is saying, ‘KISS ME DAMMIT.’ A gust of wind kicks up and blows a lock of my hair into my mouth. I pull it out, then wince out of embarrassment. “That wasn’t very sexy of me.”
“I thought we were just going to be friends,” he says, his face growing serious.
“I thought so too,” I murmur, tilting my head up toward him.
He licks his lips, then seems to second guess what I think he was planning to do. Clearing his throat, he says, “You …have had a lot to drink.”
“Yes, I have.”
“So, I will see you into your house, and bid you good night.”
I grin, doing my best to cover up the disappointment that’s weighing me down all of a sudden. He opens the screen door for me, then holds it while I unlock the door. I turn back to him with a toothy smile. “Okay, good night then.”
“Good night.”
I walk inside while he quickly descends the steps to the sidewalk. I’m just shutting the door when I hear, “Abby?”
Opening it, I see he’s still down on the sidewalk, which means he is not about to kiss me. “Some things are best done sober.”
My heart starts pattering about ten seconds before my brain figures out what he means. He means there’s hope here.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
You can't always get what you want...
~ Mick Jagger (also, Every Mother Everywhere)
The next morning, I wake early with a dull headache but a happy heart. Some things are best done sober. Cryptic. And what did he mean by fear? I mean, it’s so much better than repulsion obviously, but what was he afraid of? Was hesoattracted to me it was terrifying? I want to call Lauren to dissect the entire conversation, but then I remember she’s at work by now. Plus, we’re not fifteen, so …
I quickly get myself ready for the day, taking extra time for some mascara and a touch of bronzer. I don’t want it to look like I’m trying too hard, but I definitely want to look a little better than normal, you know, just in case he comes over and we have ‘the talk’ which leads to … oh, I can’t even think that far ahead. I reach up to my neck to play with Isaac’s ring, only to remember it’s gone. I spot the framed photo of the two of us I have on my nightstand. It was taken in Paris on the Pont Alexandre III bridge that connects the Champs-Élysées quarter with that of the Eiffel Tower. I walk over and pick it up. It was a rainy spring morning and we’re sharing a large black umbrella provided by the hotel. We look so happy. And we were.
“You won’t hate it if I found someone who makes me happy, will you?” I ask. But he doesn’t answer. And I don’t suddenly have an overwhelming feeling that he’s in the room and is giving me his blessing. There’s just nothing but me and my own conscience to decide. I stare at him some more, then open the drawer and put the photo away. I quickly leave the room, then feel my entire body turn to jelly at the reason my favorite photo of us is now in a drawer beside my bed. “Nope. Not even close to ready for that.” Spinning on one heel, I take it back out and put it where it was.
Walt and I are heading down the stairs when I receive a text from Liam. My heart speeds up as I slide the screen. Then it promptly drops.Abby, I can’t make it today. One of the toilets at my in-laws overflowed and flooded part of their basement. I’ll be there all day and most of the weekend getting them sorted out. I’m sorry to skip out on you, but I promise I’ll be back on Monday.
What about Olive? Will she come here after school?
