Kat cocks a brow. “Um, exactly my point.” Her eyebrow drops, and she frowns a little, leaning in like she’s looking closer at her screen. “Did you really not know you’re into him? Because it’s pretty obvious to the rest of us.”
I blink. Is that true? It’s obvious to everyone else?
Is it obvious to Myles?
“I… don’t know?”
She just stares at me.
I say nothing else.
“Fine,” Kat says with a sigh. “I won’t push you. But he seems really nice. And he’s protective of you. I mean, dude got pretty pissed at me about your sandwich.”
“I made it for him once. I think he’d put it up for a James Beard Award if he could.”
“It was kind of adorable.”
I kick my feet in the sand. “He sucks at volleyball,” I point out. “Plus, he’s moving back to Arizona when school starts.”
“What? No! That sucks.”
I frown, because it really does. More than I even realized.
“But I have to agree about the volleyball part,” Kat says, laughing. “He’s no Myles Ford, not that it would matter.”
I stiffen a little at her mention of Myles, and I hope she didn’t notice. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, just that Myles may be good at volleyball, but you wouldn’t date him anyway. With the pact and all.”
A boulder drops in my gut, twisting my insides into a mess of shame.
A breeze comes through and ruffles my hair, and I lift my eyes a little above the screen to the blue sky.
What if I came clean? Just ripped off the bandage and told her the truth? It’s probably a good time, now that we’ve decided to make sure our friendship stays intact.
“About Myles…,” I start.
She’s looking at me through the screen, waiting, even when I pause. “Yeah? What about Myles?”
I swallow. I can feel my heart beating in my throat.
God, I can’t do it. “I… hear he’s thinking about going to USC for college. Where his brother Matt went?”
“Really? I wouldn’t have thought he’d go so far away. But you know, the surfing is pretty awesome over there.”
I force a laugh, trying to keep my hands steady. “If anyone would pick college based on the wave quality, it’s Myles Ford.”
“Totally.” She doesn’t seem suspicious at all. “Did he tell you that at work or something?”
“Yeah,” I say, hoping it sounds casual. Relaxed. “All of us servers chat during downtime. Well, except for Anders.”
“Who’s Anders?”
It’s a testament to how little we’ve talked this summer that she doesn’t yet know about the strange but lovable old guy at Pearl’s with the mystery tattoo. I spend the next ten minutes trying my best both to describe him and make sure she’s a fan, because pretty much all of us are. He’s one of those crotchety people you can’t help but adore.
I bet Gregory will be exactly like him someday.
When I realize what time it is, I tell her I’d better go so I’m not late to work. She promises to text me later, and this time I believe her.
