I bristle at the comparison, and I think she notices as she rests a palm on my knee. I don’t recoil from her touch, which maybe surprises both of us a little.
“You would pick anyone else rather than choose yourself.”
Her words hit my chest like Thor’s hammer just as my pocket vibrates with a call from the one person I want to pick for myself, more than anything. And even with my mother’s truth bomb giving me permission, I still don’t know if I can. Because he’s always going to be somewhere else more often than he’s not.
I pull my phone out and stare at the single H that comes up. I couldn’t even get myself to type in his full name in my contacts. That felt too permanent. I haven’t answered his texts today either. I’m sure he’s confused by it because I said I would. But I don’t know what to say.
“You deserve to let yourself answer that,” my mom says, placing a hand on my leg again and squeezing before getting up and leaving me alone in her room—my room.
Five rings have buzzed, and I know the call is going to disappear into my voicemail soon. My thumb is vibrating with fear as it hovers over the answer button on the screen. I close my eyes and wet my dry lips with my tongue before my thumb presses the screen and accepts the call.
“Hi.”
“Hi.” His reply is swift. He sounds excited. Maybe relieved.
“I’m sorry I haven’t texted back yet, I?—”
“It’s okay.”
It’s not, but I take his out. He’s giving it to be kind.
“How was your trip?” I pull my feet up and scoot back, making myself smaller in the center of the bed.
“It was fast. Weird. I feel a bit like a commodity,” he laughs out. “My agent met me in the parking lot downstairs. I’m in an apartment that looks like it was ripped straight out of a catalogue.”
“Was it an IKEA catalogue, by chance?” I tease.
“I wish!” His laughter is soothing to my ears. I hold the phone close, wanting to capture it to remember later.
The quiet filters in between us, and I wonder if his lips are parted like mine are, his mind riffling through what to say.
“I was just—” I stop.
“How would you feel about—” He starts.
We laugh as we talk over each other, and my cheeks rush with heat, the nervous flirtatious feeling trickling down myspine. Hunter does this to me. Nearly every time I see him there’s a physical reaction. A giddiness, perhaps. Attraction, definitely. But there’s also this want for more time. With him.
“You go first,” I say, unsure of what I was going to say anyhow.
“Okay, well. I was wondering if you’d like to ride to Dallas with me next week? I have to come down and get my truck, and it’s a pretty easy drive, but I sure could use company. I’d let you pick the playlist and everything.
“Ooooh, playlist perks. That’s . . . that’s tempting, Hunter.” Itistempting, but not because of a playlist.
“Yeah? What do you think?”
I breathe in deeply and look out the open bedroom doorway toward the room I’m sharing with my sister for, well, who knows how long.
“I don’t know. What would I do when we get there?” I mean,I know what we would do.But then what?
“I thought maybe you could check out the area with me. There’s a psych program at UT Dallas I was just looking at, and since you were already in a Texas school, I thought?—”
“Hunter, that’s . . . I can’t move to Dallas. I’m not starting school now. I can’t leave here,” I explain.
“Okay. Yeah. I get that,” he says.
The quiet creeps in again, and it’s heavier now. I glance at the box still resting on top of the bed. My mom picked those moments. And then she picked others. I still don’t know how much I believe my dad pushed her to leave, but at the same time, his affection for her has never wavered. She made so much money in her line of work. Meanwhile, life here stayed simple. Dad barely got by.
“Why?” Hunter breaks into the conversation happening in my head.
