“Probably not.” Holden started to speak, but I cut him off. “Things are good right now. Mom’s better. We all thought this was going to be a very different kind of Christmas. Like, un-fucking-bearable. But it’s…good.”
“And you want to keep it that way.”
“Yeah. I do.”
“So why, River Whitmore, do you keep talking to me?”
“Because…” My jaw worked.
Because I can’t stop thinking about you. While I’m driving. At practice. In class. In my bed at night.
“Because I want us to be friends. Or at least not ignore each other in class.”
Friendswas such a weak word to describe the maddening swirl of emotion I felt for Holden Parish.But it’s the best I can do.
“Friends,” Holden said as if the word amused him.
“Look,” I said, lowering my voice. “We said a lot of shit to each other that night. And again when I called you from the hospital. You could’ve just hung up on me, and I would’ve deserved it. But you didn’t, and that means something, okay? I don’t want to pretend like we don’t know each other after everything we talked about. I can’t do it.”
He considered this for a moment. “You don’t want to be friends with me,” he said finally. “I’m not a nice person.”
“How about you let me worry about that?”
His voice grew sharp. “Is that what you really want? For us to bepals? You going to invite me to hang out with your buddies on Saturday night to talk about girls and football?”
“No, but…” I sighed, ran a hand through my hair.
Holden faced forward again, his jaw tight. The bell clanged through a thick and heavy silence.
“All right, well… I gotta go,” I said, pushing off the wall. “See you around, I guess.”
Except we wouldn’t. Next semester, our classes would change, and we wouldn’t have calculus anymore. This was the end of whateverwewere.
“River.”
I turned.
“I’m glad your mom is better.”
Six words in a soft tone, and my stupid heart sank deeper into his green eyes.
“Careful, Parish,” I said, smiling like a dope. “That sounded pretty fucking nice to me.”
***
That night, we ordered pizza. Dad, Amelia, and I watched Mom eat two slices without letting on that we noticed, smiling into our plates. Dazia had gone back to Washington, DC, ready to fly back in a moment’s notice if we needed her. As much as I appreciated everything she did for us, I was glad it was just the four of us again. It almost felt like real life.
“And then Jared asked Michaela to the winter formal, but she said no,” Amelia said animatedly. “He’s been a real jerk lately, so a bunch of us are going to go together as a group instead.”
“That sounds like a solid plan,” Mom said. “I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time at the dance.” She looked to me. “Are you going to the winter formal?”
“Nah,” I said. “Prom’s my next and last.”
“Too bad,” Amelia said with a snicker. “The girls are already lining up, hoping they too have a chance at being stood up by River Whitmore.”
“Here we go again,” I muttered, though I was too glad to see Amelia back to her old smart-ass self to be mad.
“Good one,” Mom said, high-fiving Amelia. “Is that what you call a sick burn?”
