Kai’s face crumples, but he sticks out his hand to shake Ethan’s.
After, Ethan doesn’t return his hand to Aubrey’s waist, as much as she wants him to.
“AIM’ing high, then?” he says to Kai.
Despite the obviousness of Ethan’s joke, Kai smiles politely. “Yes, and I’m learning all sorts of things.”
He’s disappointed but not embarrassed. The embarrassment is all her, and normally she’d not want to live in this awkwardness for a second longer than she had to, but she resists her urge to mumble a quick goodbye. Instead, she finds herself suggesting Ethan check on the line for tickets while she goes over some “work stuff” with Kai.
Though his forehead crinkles, Ethan leaves Aubrey alone with Kai.
She spins the cotton candy in her hand. “Thanks for this.”
“I checked. It’s vegan.”
Her stomach sinks. “You did?”
He shrugs, and she slides his bracelet off her wrist.
“It’s beautiful,” she says as it passes from her fingers to his. A jolt she has no way of covering spikes through her, but fortunately he’s looking down.
“Appreciate it. Was my grandma’s.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“She’s not dead, just stingy. I’d loved it since I was tall enough to sneak it out of her nightstand. Ma added the tag when I left for the mainland.”
“A reminder of home,” Aubrey says, thinking of the Women Who Code poster.
“And family.”
“Family, yes,” Aubrey murmurs. Her mom and dad and siblings, all in her home state of Pennsylvania. Are they here? And has she not been back to see them in... my god... four years? Has it really been four? As long as the years of high school that made her never want to return. “Well, I’m glad it’s safe and back where it belongs.”
As she says it, she turns to check on Ethan, who’s standing at the entrance to the arcade. When he sees her, he smiles, and the guilt and grief that have been keeping her heart pumping get worse not better. She feels that tug down to the place she’s been since he died. Her throat’s as dry as sandpaper, and she thrusts her tongue against the roof of her mouth, the backs of her teeth, trying to summon saliva that will let her talk, let her try to make it up to Ethan by not letting the same thing happen again here. And the only way to do that is to not pretend. She has to be herself and see if they fit.
She turns to test her voice, to say goodbye to Kai, but he’s already gone.
Ethan’s the one here, waiting for her by the door, tickets in hand. Inside, he doesn’t balk when she says no to playing laser tag. He orders a bright pink drink called a ladybird that smells like coconut and strawberries and is sweeter than the cotton candy. Aubrey chooses a voodoo queen, eyes lighting up at the pretty purple color and the orchid floating on top. The lavender soothes her and the prosecco topper puts a bounce in her step that helps her kick up so much virtual dust as she races her virtual Humvee across the desert inStorm the Sandthat she easily beats Ethan—or he lets her easily beat him. Though it certainly makes her a bad feminist, she kinda hopes it’s that second one.
He’s an expert at darts, she’s surprisingly good at swinging agolf club, and they’re both terrible at shooting hoops. They’re so into whacking the mole that they order greasy fries and nachos, hold the cheese, and cancel their reservation at the trendy seafood place around the corner.
Aubrey’s drinking some gold concoction that tastes like honey and heaven out of a mug in the shape of a lion’s head beside the Skee-Ball when Ethan leans in and says above the pulsing music, “You’re so not an Autumn.”
His face remains close to hers and she tries to hide the flush she feels coming behind the lion’s mane, but he puts his arm on her wrist and draws the drink to the side. Then he kisses her.
The sensation’s so familiar and new at the same time that Aubrey doesn’t care if it’s good or bad (it’s not bad), all she cares is that it’s happening. Again.
“God, I missed this,” she says aloud, and she knows her face is showing her mortification and fear. The old Ethan would have called her confusing comment an “Aubreyism” and laughed and she’d have laughed with him, but this Ethan just looks at her, his lips quirking into a grin.
“Me too. You’re right, so right. I never knew how much I could miss something I never even had.”
Two columns draw in Aubrey’s brain, the start of a pro-con list of continuing down this road with Ethan, knowing what could happen, understanding the risks, unsure of what is in her power to cause or prevent and then his lips press against hers and she erases the list that doesn’t matter anyway. Both ways are going to happen, and here, in this world, Aubrey might as well stop living in the past and worrying about the future and just enjoy it.
17
Aubrey
Six MonthsBeforethe Outing
