"When we met, he was so…safe.After going with a long line of boys who strung me along, he was this calm, sweet breath of fresh air with a steady job and a house already, savings, for god's sake. He was responsible. Capable. Safe. But safe isn't the same as right."
Shocked, I open my mouth to ask one of twenty questions that just sprang into my brain, but the sound of tires on gravel snatch my attention--Carlin is pulling in. He waves. I wave back.
"Carlin's here, Mama."
Mom laughs, teasing, "Uh-huh. Just a friend. When I come for spring break, I'm gonna meet him!"
"I love you," I say pointedly but smiling.
"Love you too, chicken. Have fun. Don't get your brain smashed at that game!"
"Okay! Bye, Mama," I say on a laugh.
"Bye!"
There's no time to process what she said. Safe isn't right? Like,Dadisn't right? I can't get my head around it. A problem for later.
Carlin's all smiles as he gets out of his little old Toyota truck with a gift bag in his hand, and I watch him walk up as I stand. His sandy brown hair catches in a shaft of sunlight, a little longer on the top and a little unruly. His blue eyes twinkle, cheeks flushed beneath his freckles.
"Hey," I call, happy to see him like I knew I would be.
Carlin climbs the steps, saying, "Hey, girl," as I pull him into a hug. His arm is strong around my waist, and I laugh as he picks me up just enough to turn us around.
When he sets me down, I open the door and follow him inside.
"What'd you bring?" I ask as he passes.
Carlin turns, walking backward into the living room. "What, this? Just some goodies for you. A littlemissed youtreat. Nothin' big."
He's so cute. Thoughtful. Like me.
Once upon a time, I wished I was into him. I even thought maybe I could…I don't know. Make myself? Now that I'm with Grey, I know better--there's no way to fake attraction. Either you've got it or you don't.
When I met Carlin through Cass at the beginning of the school year, we hit it off right away. So well, in fact, that when he asked me out, I almost said yes. But in the end, I asked if we could be friends, and he agreed, saying he'd rather have me as a friend than not at all. He even went on some dates, said he wasover it. He's never made it weird, despite my suspicion that it's not quite over, as evidenced by the gift bag in his hand.
But then again, that's just Carlin. He's attentive, thoughtful, kind. And he's one of my best friends in town.
I close the door, shaking my head at him as he kneels to pet Scout, who meows and leans into his free hand.
"You shouldn't have brought me a gift--I didn't get you a thing. I'm going to have to bake you a hundred pies to make up for all the ways you've spoiled me."
"Nah," he says, his smile crooked and unassuming. "Sometimes I see stuff and think of you, that's all Mols. C'mere. You can open it."
I meet him around the front of the couch, and we have a seat, me sideways with my back against the arm. At the crinkling of tissue paper, Scout hops into Carlin's lap to see.
When I pull out the first bundle, it's with a little gasp.
"Homemade oatmeal cream pies?" I clutch them to my chest, smell them, and clutch them again.
He laughs, giving me a look. "You're such a freak for them. Mama and I went to the farmer's market in Franklinville and a baker had these for sale. I knew you'd smell them like that." I'm trying to undo the twisty tie when he takes it from me. "There's more, keep going." He works it open for me as I dive back in.
Next bundle is a magnet with an ungloved Lizzie Bennet hand in Darcy's. Underneath it is a little plaque that saysStill Thinking About The Hand Flex.I bust out laughing.
"Oh my god--you remembered!"
"You literally paused it and made me watch it three times." His smile softens when I pull out the photo--a selfie of us at The Horseshoe. "I noticed you don't have a lot of photos on your fridge. Thought you could use one. To go with the magnet and all."
"I love it," I say, holding them to my chest like I did the cream pies. "This is so thoughtful."
