Oxygen seems prudent at a time like this, so I inhale and will myself to respond like a normal human.
“Pretty good.”There, see? Not so hard. I keep my eyes on the fire, though, because I’m not sure I can look at him and speak coherently at the same time. “You?”
“Same. Ready for Pearl’s?”
Ah. Pearl’s. So that’s why he came over.
“I think so,” I say, thankful that it’s dark and he can’t see myflushed skin. “Waitressing will be different from scanning groceries, but at least I’ve got the small talk part down.” Hell, if I can exchange words with Myles Ford on the fly, I think I can handle just about anything at the restaurant.Keep it up, Amelia. You’re doing great. “Are you?”
I’m normally a really good listener, I swear. Especially to someone like Myles, who I’ve crushed on my entire life. But at the exact same time he answers my question, I catch Kat’s yellow dress out of the corner of my eye. She’s running up to someone who just arrived, hugging them. In this moment, sitting here with Myles Ford isn’t even enough to boost my spirits, which is really saying something. And talking about Pearl’s just makes me feel even worse. Kat left me tonight, she bailed on our job for the summer, and she’s attending another school next year.
Myles even mentions it, I think, because I half hear him say “with Kat leaving and all.” I tell myself to focus. Is he worried about being down a person at the restaurant? I didn’t even think about needing to fill shifts they’d planned on Kat taking. Will Myles and I be responsible for those?
I guess it doesn’t matter if we are, because it’s not like I’ll have anyone here to hang out with otherwise.
“… number?”
I turn to face him right when he finishes talking, and he’s holding out his phone.
I scramble to recall what he just said while I was in my own head. My stomach flips over when I make direct eye contact, and I drop my gaze to the lit-up screen. I quickly realize he must be askingfor my number in case we need to trade shifts or have questions about work.
“Oh, sure,” I say, taking his phone. He’s already got a blank contact pulled up, so I type in my number with surprisingly steady hands and hand it back.
“Thanks.” He stands up with a smile. “See you next week, I guess?”
“Yeah,” I confirm. I watch him walk away, and as the seconds pass, my heart gradually returns to a normal rhythm. It hits me that under different circumstances, I might have freaked out that Myles Ford asked for my number. But that wouldn’t happen, because in what world would Myles Ford be interested in me?
Besides, even if the universe turned upside down and he did like me—like,likeme—I’d never do that to Kat. We made a pact.
Abandoning our last summer or not, ignoring me at this party or not, I’ll never break a promise to my best friend.
Ever.
3PLAYLIST:everyone be quiet, it’s been a long day
THE PARTY IS BASICALLYa full-on rave at this point, and I’m ready to go. I’ve (mostly) recovered from my second-ever conversation with Myles, but I’m still not really in the mood to socialize. We’ve stayed way past what would be considered “just a little while.”
Kat’s still making her rounds, and every time I think she’ll find me and tell me she’s ready to leave, a new group of people arrives. I fold my arms across my stomach and make my way to the drink table again, wondering why she suddenly wants to hang out with these people who have no idea she wanted to be a prima ballerina until she was fourteen (even though she never took dance) or that Jake Mallory was her first kiss. (She tells everyone it was Russell Temple.)
I try to come up with excuses for Kat and me to bail as Isift through the cooler, bypassing cans of Bud Light in search of another Pepsi. I’ve never tried beer, and I tell myself it’s because it smells awful (which is true), but really it’s because I’m too big of a wuss to break that particular law.
I straighten and find a boy standing on the other side of the table.
He tips his head at the soda in my hand. “See another one of those in there?”
I don’t recognize him, which means he’s new or he’s from out of town. For his sake I consider telling him not to let anyone know if he’s a tourist. Jade would escort him right off the premises.
He’s tall and thin, and I have to look up to meet what I think are brown eyes. His back’s to the fire, so his face is shadowed and it’s a little hard to tell. His dark hair is short, like it’s just growing out of a buzz cut, and I wonder if he’s from that military boarding school in Connecticut. It’s shorter than most of the guys I know, who all keep their hair long enough to constantly tousle and toss out of their eyes when they come out of the ocean.
Yes, sometimes it’s hot—like every time Myles does it. But on most other guys it seems practiced and fake.
I can’t tell which of those words might describe this guy. Hot? Practiced? Fake? For all I know, he could be all the above.
I decide I’m too tired to find out and hold out the unopened can. “Here. I’m about to leave anyway.”
He doesn’t make a move to take it, and shoves his hands into the pockets of his navy-blue zip-up hoodie instead. He gives me a sort of disappointed look, but the quirk to his lips is a little teasing. “Really? But I just got here.”
I tilt my head. Is he flirting with me? “Who are you?”
