I just grin at him, amazed that he would want to spend an entire day alone on the ocean with me.
“So,” he starts, gripping the back of his neck with his free hand, “when I get back from California, would, um… would you go on a date with me?”
He looks so serious. And almost nervous, despite the fact that I enthusiastically made out with him on the beach a few short hours ago. “Of course I would.”
His answering smile is like a blooming sunrise, and he leans forward to kiss me one more time before I get out of the car.
I walk on unsteady legs to my front door, and lean against it once I’m inside. I lightly touch my fingers to my lips, still tingling as I remember his sliding against them. I can’t wait to text Shelby and tell her—but first I have to see Fiona and the kittens. My mom sent me three more pictures while we were on the water, so I know the final count is five.
I go into the garage and kneel down a few feet from the box. Fiona eyes me but doesn’t seem upset that I’m here. The kittens are curled up against her belly, as if they just ate and passed out. Two are black, two are gray, and one is black with white spots.
“Hey, sweet girl,” I murmur. “Look at them. You did such a good job.”
She lets out a mewl, and I assume she’s letting me know how exhausted she is. I take out my phone and snap a picture of the whole group, then shoot off a text to Gregory as I head back inside.
Me: Tell Waffles he’s officially a father!
I grab a soda before climbing the stairs to my room, Margarine at my heels. As soon as I step inside my room, I go rigid.
Because there, scattered across the wall where they’ve always been, are dozens of photos of Kat. Smiling at me from the beach, in front of a sunset, from the school cafeteria. Reminding me of our shared history and everything we’ve been to each other.
Only, now it feels like they’re judging me, staring me down. It’s so brutal, this reminder of my betrayal, that I immediately turn on my heel and head in the other direction.
Margarine follows me, confused but apparently up for anything, and I ask if she wants a walk. She bounds down the stairs ahead of me as soon as the words are out of my mouth, and she bounces around near the hook with her leash.
Once we’re forging our usual path along the sand, I still think about Kat, but at least I’m not surrounded by the history of our friendship while I do it.
Now that we’ve kissed and Myles has declared that he wants to date me, it’s alarmingly clear that if I want to keep our friendship alive, I should have been honest with her from the start.
Because if I’d kept her up to date on the inevitability that he and I would get to know each other at work, and the friendship we’ve built over the last several weeks, maybe she’d understand. She’d understand that these things aren’t always planned, and that when we made the pact, we were young and really didn’t know anything about relationships or real feelings. Hell, we didn’t really know anything about Myles, either. She’d understand thatwhile she was nowhere to be found, I got to know him in a way I never expected.
But I didn’t keep her up to date, and I haven’t been honest. I intentionally kept her in the dark about Myles and made it sound like we’re basically still acquaintances who cross paths at work. I never told her that he asked for her number, or that I started talking to him instead and that texting has turned into a daily occurrence.
Maybe I shouldn’t care, because she hasn’t made me a priority this summer. But despite how much has changed, I’m not sure I’m ready to completely give up on us just yet.
Eventually Margarine and I arrive at Mr. Autry’s house and stop for iced tea and dog treats. I’m so eager for a distraction from my anxious thoughts that I spend a half hour on his back porch listening to his stories about growing up in the sixties.
Margarine and I meander back to my house, and after I’m finished showering and changing, Gregory finally answers my text about the kittens.
Gregory: that’s cool
I frown at my phone. That’s it?
Me: are you at work?
Gregory: yeah
I should probably leave it at that, but something about his replies eats at me. My mom thinks I’m making it up, but you can totally tell someone’s mood from a text. I once spent a solid twenty minutes explaining to her why “k,” “ok,” “okay,” and “okay!” mean very different things. I look over at the selfiepinned to my wall a few feet away. Gregory’s smile is so infectious, my lips curve up. My face falls when I look back down at my phone. Something’s wrong, I know it.
Me: Everything ok?
Gregory: yeah
That’s it. I get to my feet, head downstairs, and pull on my tennis shoes. I kiss Margarine on the head on my way out the door and hop onto my bike, feeling the summer breeze on my face as I take off down the street.
21PLAYLIST:all the small things
I FIND GREGORY INthe produce section stacking oranges. It’s like the first time I saw him here, except now he’s building a perfectly shaped pyramid just like I taught him.
