My thoughts go back to that failed graduation party. I don’t like to think about that too much, but now that I’ve circled around it, I can’t help but dive into that can of worms. The logic for planning the party in the first place was to give me the eighth-grade graduation I’d never have, since I was moving back to the province of Quebec. We spent several evenings cozied up in Logan’s room, scrapbooking ideas together. But my favourite moments had to be when his mom, Carol, would interrupt our work to grab us for a game of Uno. Which I almost always lost.
I wish I could say I wasn’t still bitter about everyone in our class ghosting that party. But the truth is, I am. Why, though? I don’t see a logical reason to care what a bunch of kids thought of me seventeen years ago. But I can’t help it.
I look out at the ocean before me and take a deep breath, making a focused effort to relax my shoulders. The bitterness in my heart eases.
A sudden voice behind me makes me jump: “Mind if I join you?”
“Geez,” I reply, meeting Logan’s gaze with one hand on my chest. “I didn’t hear you coming at all.” He’s standing behind the bench with one hand leaning against the top of it, looking amused.
“You’re jumpier than before.” Back during the days of our friendship, I was already a jumpy little thing. But it got worse when the panic attacks and the anxiety came. Makes sense, in a way. I’m always on edge, as if I’m waiting for the next thing in my life to attack me out of nowhere.
“Yeah.” I fiddle with my hair. “But yes, please join me.”
He nods and sits on the bench, leaning forward against his knees. “This is my favourite spot in the entire resort,” he says. “There’s always people here at sunset and sunrise. But I like to come here when it’s dark out, like this.” He gestures to the night sky around us.
“Yeah, I can see why this would be your favourite.” It makes me a little giddy to know his favourite spot is the same as mine—and that he even shares the same ritual I wanted to start.
“So,” he starts, shooting me a sly smile, “how did your writing go today?”
“Eh. It was okay.” I sigh. “But you were right. I could use a little inspiration.”
“Of course I was right.” He winks. I pretend not to notice how my stomach somersaults in response. “You’ll figure it out. Unless you got dumb over the last seventeen years. Did you get dumb, Avery?”
“Absolutely. Without you as a friend, my brain rotted away, and now only desperate people hire me.” He chuckles, and so do I. “You obviously stayed smart, otherwise you wouldn’t have built yourself an epic programming career.”
He looks away towards the ocean. “You’d be surprised. I’ve worked with my fair share of idiots. And working in startups isn’t as epic as it’s made out to be.”
There’s a hint of hesitation in his voice, like he wants to say more but won’t. I’m not sure what he’s insinuating here.
I’m reminded of everything Idon’tknow about him. There’s so much of it. So much I want to know. “So how was it really? And how was it living in San Francisco?”
“It was a shock for sure. You go from a place like Red Lake to Toronto for college, which is already a big jump … but it’s nothing compared to San Francisco.” His eyebrows shoot up, as if to emphasize this fact. “It took a while for me to find my footing there.” He chuckles. “Getting around in that place is a complete nightmare. And the gunshots took a while to get used to. Honestly, I still wasn’t used to it after all those years.”
“Damn.” Living in Montreal, I’m accustomed to the big city—by Canadian standards. But I know American cities are another ballpark entirely. I’m suddenly hit by a pang of longing to hold Logan’s hand. To tell him he did good. That he’s been brave.
But I won’t go there. So I settle for a sympathetic smile. “Is that why you needed a change of scenery, then?”
He nods. “Yeah, you could say that.” His answer elicits more curiosity than anything else.
If that was truly why he came here, he wouldn’t have said it like that. And it doesn’t answer the question of why he would stop doing what he loves—and take the huge pay cut—to work in hospitality for an entire summer. Family business or not, if he has changed as little as I think, this type of public-facing job is a nightmare come true for him. In that way, we’re exactly the same.
“So why not ask your boss to work remotely for the summer, then? Why work here?” I immediately realize how judgy it sounds and want to fix it right away. “Not that I’m judging, though. It’s just that, I remember how much you were scared of eventually getting your first job because all there was in Red Lake for teens was customer-facing … and now here you are.”
I can see right away that I’ve said the wrong thing. His entire body stiffens, and it looks like he has stopped breathing. He’s staring out at the ocean, and I can’t read what’s going on in his eyes.
“I didn’t mean to pry,” I say, hoping this brings us back to our previous camaraderie. “You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to.”
He breaks his focused stare towards the water and blinks quickly. “Oh. Yeah. Sorry, I just got distracted in my thoughts a little bit.” He shoots me a look and smiles. “I guess I wanted to try it out. Call it a sabbatical or whatever.” But there’s something off about his tone, and I can tell that’s not the complete truth.
“And how has it been?”
He shrugs. “Eh. Most people don’t suck. But … still.”
That isn’t even an attempt at an answer. Yet, I don’t push it. What right do I have? I was the one who catapulted my way out of his life. And now, seventeen years later, I can’t just waltz back in and expect him to lay his entire heart out for me on a silver platter. That’s not how it works.
Baby steps. For now, I’ll take what I can get.
It takes all of my willpower not to scooch up against him and squeeze him tight. Because I can tell, just from the way his gaze has wandered again, that whatever he’s not telling me is hurting him. And I can’t stand to see him hurt like this.
