And that’s it. He stays there with me, holding me for some time that I’m about ninety-eight percent sure is much longer than five minutes.
TherestofSaturdaymorning is a blur of activity that I’m actually proud of myself for navigating. Alex and I get out of bed sometime after nine, and we get dressed and head downstairs. His mom is already cooking breakfast, and his cousins—the ones who hadstayed overnight last night—are up and chatting as they help to rearrange the furniture.
I’m not hungry, but Alex convinces me to eatsomething, and so, after a quick breakfast of a banana and a glass of milk, I volunteer to be the one to do the grocery run. Alex’s mom is still cooking a huge breakfast, since some other cousins and family members are supposed to be arriving soon—all the more reason for me to get the fuck out of there. But she hands me a list of a bunch of last-minute things she forgot to get the day before, along with a wad of cash, and then I head out.
I stop at the grocery store first, glad that it’s not really busy and thankful, as always, that self-checkout exists. After I finish up there, I head over to Green’s Bakery and pick up her order of custom cakes, croissants, and fresh rolls. Again, it’s not busy, and I manage through whatever short, awkward conversation happens with the single employee at the register while I wait.
I’m heading back out to my car, awkwardly balancing four large bakery boxes in my arms, when I hear someone call out my name from behind me.
“Hey, Nico!”
I freeze, my whole body going rigid as I try not to panic. It’s not even a voice I immediately recognize, which means it’s not my mom’s or that asshole Patrick’s or any of those jerks from school who always bullied me and teased me and whatever the fuck else. But itisfamiliar.
I’m still painfully far away from my car—at least twenty or thirty feet—and now I can’t even move.
“You look like you could use some help. Want me to get the door to your car for you?”
The voice is closer now, just to my left, and I force myself to turn and look, even though my brain is screaming at me to run.
Jenna stands a couple of feet away, her hands on her hips and hereyebrows arched. I just stare at her like an idiot for several seconds before I realize she’s waiting for me to answer, and then I swallow tightly and shake my head.
“N-no. No, thanks. I got it.” Which is a stupid answer, because of course it’ll be difficult and awkward for me to try to open the door myself and of course it would be easier if she helped me.
Jenna laughs as though she knows exactly what I’m thinking. “Okay, suit yourself,” she says, her tone playful.
She doesn’t go away, though, and instead, she follows me as I walk the rest of the way to my car. Her following me certainly doesn’t help my anxiety, and it’s all I can do to not snap at her to please, for fuck’s sake, leave me alone.
“Sure you don’t want some help?” she asks again when I stop at the passenger side door, frowning.
I suddenly feel quite small and nauseous, and I wonder why the hell I can’t just be normal. Any normal person would just say yes, please and thank you, and go on with their day. But for me, she’s already too close, even with as perfectly nonthreatening as she is. My heart races, and I fight a familiar feeling of lightheadedness.
“Um...” I intend to try to be nice, to say just that—yes, please and thank you. But I don’t get the chance, because she steps up around me to my car.
“Here, really, let me help. Okay?” Her hand is on the door handle now, and she’s looking at me with kindness in her eyes and a smile on her lips.
God, how fucking awkward am I? I push back all the fear wanting to swallow me up, and I manage a nod. “Yeah, ’kay, thanks.”
She smiles brightly at me and turns to open the car door. Then, rather than let me continue to be awkward and try to fit all of the boxes through the door at once, she steps up to me and takes off the top box to move it to the car. She repeats that once more until I’m left holding the bottom two boxes, then she moves out of myway to let me finish loading the boxes into the front seat.
After I close the door, I barely stop myself from backing away or flinching or shrinking into myself. Instead, I just shove my hands into my pockets and mumble another “thank you.” She’s biting her lower lip and studying me intently when I finally manage to look up.
“You’re welcome,” she says quietly. Then she adds, “Are you okay? You look a little pale. Or, you know, paler than normal.”
I laugh. Kind of. It feels almost like a laugh, and she gives me a half smile as she laughs too. “I’m trying to be okay,” I say, which is probably about as honest as I can be.
“I can respect that.” She backs up a step as though maybe she’s sensed that’s what I need, I’m not sure. But it’s one hundred percent the truth, anyway, and some of the tension immediately leaves my shoulders. “Is there a party?” she asks, tilting her head toward my car and the boxes from the bakery.
I shake my head but then nod, and she gives me another of those skeptical looks, her eyebrows raised. I groan inwardly. I just want to leave, not have more conversation. “S-sorry, um. It’s at Alex’s. A family thing. I’m just helping.”
“Oh, right.” She nods thoughtfully. “He mentioned something on Thursday about a family reunion thing.”
Thursday? With the hell that’s been this last week, it takes me a second to catch up. Thursday... was a fucking mess of a day. But I remember that he went with Jenna into Omaha on Thursday, and then when I got off work...
God. Right.Thursday.
Thursday evening. Alex’s flushed cheeks and unfocused eyes when I knocked on his door. The way he was slightly out of breath. The way he stared at my ass as I walked away.
I shouldn’t be thinking about this now, but I can’t seem to stop myself. Heat rushes up into my cheeks, and I quickly drop my gaze,cursing inwardly.
