“So,” I say. “Same time tomorrow? For the gardening?”
She laughs and kisses the dirt off my nose.
“Same time tomorrow.”
I press the heels of my hands against my eyes.
That was twelve years ago. I was sixteen and so sure about everything. Sure about her, sure about us, sure that nothing could ever come between us.
I was wrong about a lot of things back then.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand.
Nate:Stop overthinking. I can hear it through the wall.
Me:You can’t hear thinking.
Nate:I can hear YOU thinking. It’s very loud.
Lucas:He’s right. Your silence has a specific quality.
Me:Can’t sleep either?
Nate:No.
Lucas:No.
We sit with that for a moment. Three alphas in three separate rooms, all staring at our ceilings, all thinking about the same person.
Lucas:What are we going to do?
Nate:What we said. Keep our distance. Don’t engage.
Me:And if she tries to talk to us?
Nate:We walk away.
Lucas:Can we actually do that?
Nobody responds right away. Because we all know the answer is probably no.
Nate:We have to try.
Me:Yeah.
Lucas:Yeah.
Lucas:At least we’re disasters together.
Nate:Pack motto.
Me:Goodnight, disasters.
Nate:Goodnight.
Lucas:Goodnight.
I put my phone down and close my eyes.
