Tati doesn’t have a history of long, fulfilling relationships. Now that I’ve had some time to think more critically about orchestrating a setup, I’m realizing it’s a dicey idea. She and Davis know each other; if they wanted to date, they would. Plus, if Henry and I interfere, pushing them into something serious, and then Tati breaks itoff with Davis (or, more likely, Davis breaks it off with her), things could become uncomfortable between Henry and me.
The affection I’ve started to feel for him is delicate and exciting. I’m reluctant to jeopardize it.
There’s a lot at stake.
“What if Tati thinks your dad’s a jerk?” I ask. “What if your dad thinks Tati is a snob? We have no business sticking our noses into whatever they’ve already got going on.”
“I disagree,” Henry says.
I laugh. “Clearly. But trust me, if Tati found out I interfered with her love life, she’d be pissed.”
The elevator arrives. I step inside. Even though I’d like to see this conversation through, I’m picturing my sister upstairs, glaring at her watch while she taps an agitated toe.
Henry follows me, and as the doors close, he says, “Not if things between her and my dad work out. They might be perfect for each other. In that case, she’ll be grateful.”
“She’s never grateful. Best-case scenario, they have a good few months before things fall apart. Tati doesn’t handle breakups well, and guess who gets to deal with her in the aftermath? Plus, after they inevitably crash and burn, things will be weird between you and me. That would suck. I like eating French fries with you.”
I survive by keeping my feelings close. By keeping others at a distance. Gabi’s the only person I’ve ever opened up to, and all that got me was a ruined reputation and a summer without a social life. So it unnerves me to admit that last part. The French fry part.
The elevator slows to a stop. Henry says, “I like eating French fries with you too.”
We’re different in a lot of ways, he and I, but there’s amity when we hang out. It was there between us three years ago, and it’s here tonight. I meet his eyes and offer a smile that’s not silly or sarcastic, but sincere.
His return is a gift. I’m not about to gamble it on Tati and Davis.
It’s not until we’ve reached my apartment door that he speaks again. “Okay. Let’s forget about your sister and my dad. Tomorrow, I’ll try to survive a day on the open ocean, and you try not to set Tati off.”
“And we’ll meet up for fries or swimming or something soon,” I tell him.
He pulls his phone from his pocket and passes it to me. I key in my number and then watch him walk back to the elevator. Before he steps inside, he graces me with the most winsome smile, confirmation that we’re doing the right thing by abandoning the setup idea.
Losing my new friend’s just not worth the risk.
As the elevator begins its descent, I unlock the apartment door and creep inside.
Tati is perched on the sofa, eyes firing laser beams of disappointment.
“You’re late.”
Henry
My dad paid for an excursion out on the Gulf on a thirty-foot charter boat that we’re sharing with a captain and two crewmembers, plus four twentysomethings who’re whooping it up bachelor party–style. We shove off at the ass crack of dawn. I have to forgo my run, but I’m trying not to be a downer because maybe this will be fun.
Dad’s pumped. As we motor away from shore, he bounds around the boat with a can of charter-provided Coors, toasting Josh, the groom-to-be, who’s vacationing from Jersey with his friends. Ten minutes in, the bachelor party guys already worship Dad. The crew, a freakishly tan brother-sister pair called Matthew and Marissa, do too. He invites everyone onboard to Blitz Brews later. He seems to collect people like the Pied Piper.
If I didn’t look so much like Davis Walker, I’d question my paternity.
The weather’s nice today, though it’s always nice in Sugar Bay. The sky’s a vivid blue, and the gulf is calm, glittering inthe sunlight. I slather on sunscreen and listen as Matthew and Marissa explain about rods and reels. I Googledgulf fishinglast night, partly because I couldn’t sleep and partly because I didn’t want to look like a dumbass today, but it becomes clear pretty quick that we’re on a party boat that lets you leave with fish, notDeadliest Catch.
The crew’s doing all the work, but the sun’s relentless and I’m still roasting. Halfway through the morning, when Dad stops flirting with Marissa long enough to toss me a beer, I consider cracking it open.
I end up passing it to Todd, Josh’s best man, who’s on the bench beside me. He opens the can with a metallic pop. After a long pull, he states the obvious: “Dude. Your dad’s a trip.”
Davis is across the deck, shotgunning a beer. It’s, like, nine o’clock.
Todd jabs me with his tanning-oil-covered elbow. “You’re a lucky kid.”
I let out a disbelieving laugh, flipping my baseball hat from backward to forward so my face doesn’t end up twice baked. And so I don’t have to watch my father guzzle foam.
