Luke texted just as I was setting up our spread, saying he was outside. I pulled on a sweatshirt and went downstairs to get him. He sprang up from one of the porch’s Adirondack chairs when I shouldered open the door. “Right on time, Morrissey.”
“Actually, Carmichael,” he said, “I’m early.” He held up his phone. “It’s only 7:39.”
I smirked. “So eager.”
He shrugged. “I was promised a cheese plate.”
I laughed and waved him inside, leading the way back upstairs. Daggett was three floors, and my room was on the second. It wasn’t completely unlike Nick’s room in Mortimer. I had my own flags tacked up, and prefects also got first dibs on rooms, so mine was hands down one of the biggest. Dad and I had lofted my bed up high to make the most of the floor space and then lugged this brown leather chesterfield couch upstairs. Nick had its twin, another present from Nana, who always talked about the furniture she had in storage. So after Nick and I dropped some light hints, we managed to take them off her hands. Across from the chesterfield was my TV.
“Now”—I pushed open the door—“I didn’t exactly have time to jet to France this afternoon, so I hope this will suffice.” I gestured at the coffee table (steamer trunk), where I’d assembled tonight’s snacks: Pandora’s famous chips-salsa-and-guacamole combo, and something sweet from their treasure trove of desserts. Dove hadgone with me to pick everything up after dumplings. “Friends are coming over to watch TV,” I’d explained as I handed over my debit card, and then was treated to what I called anI’m annoyed but I’m not going to tell you whysigh. But I didn’t take the bait; I just let Dove stew, acting like everything was fine.
Luke glanced at the plate of food, then back at me with this confused expression on his face—eyebrows furrowed and lips slightly parted as if he was about to say something. But nothing came out. My heart started to race.
“Oh, right.” I moved across the room, sort of stumbling over my feet. “Drinks.” I pulled open the door of my mini fridge and grabbed two seltzers, offering one to Luke. “It’s not still, but itislemon-infused.”
He took it from me. “No, this is great,” he said quietly, and then shook his head. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting all this.”
“Well, microwaving popcorn isn’t exactly one of my strengths,” I told him. “I burn it every time.”
Luke smiled. “The trick is—” but he got cut off, thanks to someone pounding on my door.
“Yeah?” I called.
The door opened and Kyle Thompson and Randall Washington, two juniors, entered. I saw them both notice the chips and salsa as they flopped down on the couch.No, I thought.
“Charlie, Thompson needs your help,” Randall said.
“Your prefect wisdom,” Kyle rephrased, dunking a chip in the guacamole.
I half-glanced at Luke. “Okay.” I turned back to the guys. “You have five minutes.”Because I amnotmissing the opening of the show.
Kyle laughed. “Oh, right… It’sWednesday.”
Randall caught on. “Outwit, outplay, outlast!”
I nodded. “Talk.”
“Mikayla and Joseph broke up,” Kyle said. “And I sort of want to get in there, but don’t want to be too obvious…”
Randall snorted. “You mean aggressive.”
Kyle flipped him off.
Good, I thought,an easy one.“Set up a mixer with Merriman,” I responded, since Kyle was our house’s social chair. “That way it’ll seem casual, but you’ll still get to lay some groundwork.” I shrugged. “A game of Twister is always fun.” I reached up and ran a hand through my hair. It felt weird talking about this stuff with Luke here.
They beat it after that, taking some food with them. Once the door clicked shut, I turned to see Luke looking at my bulletin board. So I took the opportunity to look athim. Cool and casual in his denim jacket and navy sweatpants with white stripes down the sides. Backward baseball hat too. I quickly blinked when he pivoted to face me.
“Who’s this?” He pointed to a photo. “With you?”
I stiffened at the shot. It was an old one, taken on the Vineyard…of me and Cal. We were in Edgartown, Mad Martha’s Ice Cream in the background. Cal licked his cone beside me, his wheat-colored hair shining in the sunlight. Meanwhile, I was smiling so hard my jaw ached, because Cal’s arm…well, it was slung around me. Loosely, lazily, and to everyone but me, brotherly. I remembered not wanting to look at the camera, instead feeling the pull of Cal’s dangling fingers, wishing I could…
“Carmichael?”
“Oh, that’s Cal,” I said, hoping my voice stayed level. “Kitsey’s high school boyfriend.”
“Gotcha.” Luke reached to smooth one of the photo’s curling edges. My eyes followed his fingers, long and tapered. I hooked two of mine onto my rope bracelets and squeezed as tightly as I could. “How old are you here?” he asked.
“Fourteen.”
