As we roll into the garage, water sprays at us from both sides and multicolored soap spits out onto the windows, shielding us from any natural light.
“Whoa,” I say. “Got pretty dark.”
“I actually love it,” says Freddie. “I wish my job was to drive the cars through the wash instead of dancing outside with a giant sign. You know Adam’s mom is ordering a rubber ducky costume?”
“Oh man, I gotta see that.”
“Well, it’s on back order. I’m hoping it doesn’t arrive until after graduation.”
I feel my lips slipping into a frown at the mention of graduation. Our days are numbered.
“I decided I’m still going to LSU,” he says. “It’s where I’ve always wanted to go. And I heard Viv changed her plans and decided on Florida. So no chance of running into her at least.” He notices then that this is not a subject I have much to add to. “But forget that. I have a question.”
I swallow. “Okay.”
“I don’t want you to get freaked out.”
“Well, that freaks me out a little.” I laugh nervously.
He takes both my hands in his. “I know you may not be ready to label yourself, and... that’s been hard for me to understand, but I’m okay with it.”
“Okay...”
“But I was wondering if you would be interested in labeling us?”
I inhale sharply. “What do you mean?” Even though I know exactly what he means.
“Will you be my girlfriend?”
Another round of rainbow soap splashes across the windows. “I—do we...” I’ve played the role of girlfriend before. That’s nothing new for me. My brow furrows for a moment as I turn this over in my head. I know I’m ready to take this relationship further... in a physical way. And it doesn’t make sense for me not to make this commitment too. It’s not a label that means much to me. If fact, thinking back to Grace and Andrew, it’s a label I once loathed. But it means something to Freddie, and for that reason, I say, “Yes.”
His face lights up with a stupid grin as he leans over the center console and kisses me in the dark car under a kaleidoscope of soap and bubbles, and I think everyone should make out in a car wash at least once. The car rocks gently against the brushes and the dryer until the employee guarding the end of the wash is whistling at us and waving us on to the exit.
THIRTY-ONE
It’s been a slow night at Boucher’s. January always crawls by, and we’re only two weeks in. Ruth and I start our closing duties early in the hope that Tommy will send us home before our shifts are up, and as we’re refilling ketchup and hot sauce, Freddie texts me.
FREDDIE: let’s play house tomorrow.
ME: what does that entail?
FREDDIE: do you work tomorrow?
ME: It’s my Saturday off.
FREDDIE: my gram and Bart are going to the swap meet tomorrow morning.
It’s the first time Freddie and I will have a chance to truly be alone for an extended amount of time without sneaking around in empty classrooms or stolen moments when we can duck away from our respective obligations.
ME: I just have my route.
FREDDIE: Which ends at my house.
ME: True.
FREDDIE: All roads lead to me.
I fidget with the evil-eye bracelet tied around my wrist before responding. Ruth hums “Silent Night” to herself, even though Christmas is long gone. While she moves on to her next table, I slide into a booth and study my phone.
