“I’m grateful for whatever force of nature or string of decisions that brought you here, more grateful than you know.”
A flicker of sadness flashes in her eyes before she takes another bite of her burger.
Focusing on the steady rhythm of my heartbeat, I add, “But now that youarehere, all I want to know is, well, everything about you. In painstaking detail. I want to know all of it.”
She chews thoughtfully. “I guess it couldn’t hurt, catching up. You know, while I’m here. Just for the night.”
“Exactly. Now you’re getting it.” I nod, a little too eagerly.
I know there’s plenty between us to overcome. But our friendship was always something special, somethingmore. By the time we were eighteen years old, we’d faced more hardships than most do in their entire lives. And we faced them together. We can get there again—I just need time to prove that to her.
It only takes about ten minutes for Gracie to eat all the fries and most of her burger. She takes a slow sip of ginger ale, and her eyes wander. I’ve been cataloging her bland reactions to the interior of my house. She doesn’t appear excited by my “accessible beige” walls. I haven’t taken her on a house tour yet, but I know this woman has the patience of a toddler in an icecream shop. Now that her plate is clean, she starts swinging her feet back and forth and tapping them softly against the island.
Grinning at her restlessness, I decide to put her out of her misery. “Do you want me to show you around, Gracie?”
“Obviously.”
And with that, she walks out of the kitchen. To give me a tour of my house, apparently.
We make our way to the sunroom first. Next, we visit the laundry room and then the game room. I stay close to her side, shadowing her as she tests out the no-touch sink in both of the first floor bathrooms.
“I feel like I’m trying to pass a home inspection right now,” I joke.
“You’ll need to pass a health inspection if you keep hovering,” she retorts.
I dramatically place a hand over my heart. “Oh, I’mso sorryto disrupt your forensic sweep of my home.”
Gracie avoids eye contact with me, but her lips turn up as she continues to weave in and out of each room.
She pauses before we meander upstairs to check out the guest bedrooms. “You know, this place could do with a little personality.”
“What I missed most about you, Gracie, is the way you were always so subtle with me,” I tease.
The truth is, she was only bold with me. If teachers or classmates were asked to describe Gracie, I have no doubt they would have said “shy” or introverted. Neither of those terms apply to the girl I know. If she was quiet, it was out of necessity. She was constantly assessing who was safe and who would make fun of her for something out of her control. The list of people she fully trusted growing up was limited. Me, my little sister, Mae, my mom. Later, Ben. And regardless of what she said when she ended things with me, I never took that trust lightly.
“In all seriousness, you can take as much time as you’d like touring this place.” I slow my pace. Gracie slows down, too, as she approaches the last guest room, the one she’ll be staying in. After years of trailing each other around, I know better than to rush her. Hurrying Gracie only ever triggered her stutter. Questions I don’t have the right to ask leave me wondering how she copes with rushing today.
Who reminds her to blow out the candles?
Chapter 10
Danny
Fifteen Years Old
“Stop rushing me! I’m almost d-done!” Gracie shouts through the walls of her house.
“Hurry up, we’re going to miss the bus!” I yell in response.
I tilt my head in curiosity as she runs out onto the porch, where I sit and wait for her. She looks different today. Her lips are shinier and fuller. Her eyelids have glitter on them, making the purpley-blue colors in her right eye even brighter. The rest of her appearance, I recognize, with the exception of the curves she got over the summer. I’m still getting used to those. I try my best to ignore the way Gracie’s body looks, but her tight blue jeans and fitted Dashboard Confessional T-shirt are making it hard not to stare.
I rub my eyes, prying them away from her for a moment. “Is it rushing when I walkie-talkied you over an hour ago to start getting ready?”
“This never would’ve happened if you’d just stayed over yesterday,” she huffs. “You’ve spent the night b-before the first d-day at school every single year. It’s not my fault I slept through my alarm.”
“My mom has been looking for me earlier and earlier each morning. It’s like she has a tracker on me or something,” I lie through my teeth. Thank God Gracie isn’t as good at sniffing out my lies as I am with hers. The simple truth is that it’s getting harder to just “spend the night” with her.
After dreaming that we slept completely naked in her bed last night, I woke up with flushed cheeks and a hard-on. No way can that happen when I’m with her. Eventually, she’ll catch on that it’s not just morning wood… It’s her. I have to get ahold of myself for the sake of our friendship.
