She laughs good-naturedly, but I can tell she thinks this is all in my head. And I get that. We haven’t worked many shifts together lately, so she doesn’t know how much Andy has been coming in. Early on, he’d just get his usual Strawberry Sunrise, give Crystal and me a wink, and leave. But these last few weeks have beendifferent. He’s been staying longer and longer at the shop, telling me about his soccer practices and pickup basketball games, teasing me for lip-synching to the loop of eighties songs that play on repeat.
I take a deep breath and tell her about last week, how he pulled me into the middle of the empty shop to dance like we were main characters in a movie montage.
“It was the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to me.”
She smiles. “That sounds really fun, Ellie.”
But it wasn’tfun. I mean, it was, but it was also swoony and she’s not getting it. I think about going on, telling her more about Andy’s latest visits, but then I hesitate. I don’t want to jinx anything. And it’s going to be so entertaining to see her reaction when Andy and I get together.
I bring down a collection of shoes for her and she falls for a pair of pink ballet flats immediately. Crisis averted. I give Mom a peck on the cheek and grab my key from the hook. “I’ll see you later.”
“Be safe! And tell me everything tomorrow over breakfast.”
We hurry out to Crystal’s car.
“Are you excited?” she asks as she pulls away from the curb.
“So excited!”
“You better be. Andy’s parties are always epic. Just you wait.”
She does a little shimmy dance and I do the same, a wave of adrenaline coursing through me. Epic is exactly what I’m hoping for.
A quick glance at Andy’s street tells me that this is the biggest party I’ve ever been to. If kids had parties like this back in Virginia, then I was never invited. Cars line both sides of the road, and we haveto park blocks away and hoof it to his house. I’m starting to wish I’d traded my heels after all.
I quicken my pace to compensate for the nerves shooting through my limbs. Small groups of people meander down the sidewalk with us. I recognize most of the others from the end-of-season pep rallies, since a lot of Andy’s friends are athletes and cheerleaders, but I don’t really know them. Waterford Valley is so ridiculously big that it’s hard to keep people straight, especially transferring in at the end of the year. I’m so grateful to have Crystal next to me.
A few guys I recognize from Andy’s basketball team wave. “Hey, Crystal!”
She blows them a kiss. Crystal might not be the most popular girl at school—she doesn’t do sports or cheer or anything like that—but she’s in student government and in atonof clubs, so everyone seems to know her. I’m hoping to follow her lead and get involved this year.
“Omigod,everyoneis here,” I whisper as we walk through Andy’s front yard and into the palatial backyard.
This isn’t some little shindig with hot dogs and coolers full of melting ice and soft drinks. This isfancy. I knew he was rich, but his parents have gone overboard with birthday decorations and elaborate balloon creations throughout the manicured lawn. There are long tables covered in catered food along the patio and a cake that’s large enough to feed a hundred people.
I rub my sweaty palms down my dress and pray my queasiness doesn’t become full-out sickness. Accessorizing this outfit with puke isnotthe look I’m going for.
“Ooh!” Crystal squeals. “There’s Sara!” She waves and rushesover, leaving me alone in the middle of the lawn.
My stomach squeezes and I check my phone for nonexistent texts to give myself something to do. I’d imagined that Crystal would be my guide here—at least until I found Andy—but I don’t want to be a complete dork trailing after her all night. Instead, I head toward the drinks table. As I grab a water, a hand falls lightly on my shoulder.
“I see the party’s arrived now.”
Tingles race up my spine at his voice. Andy. And is it my imagination, or is he standing extra close to me? My heart tugs in my chest as I look up into his gorgeous blue eyes. Every time I see him, he’s cuter than the last time. I can’t believe I’ll be calling him my boyfriend by the end of the night.
Of course he hasn’t said anything specific yet—that would ruin the surprise—but I overheard him talking about it at the shop a few days ago. I was in the back, getting more blueberries, when my middle-aged shift manager tried to wait on him.
“Can I help you?”
“Oh, no thanks.” Just hearing his voice made me smile. “I don’t think I could drink another smoothie this week.”
“Um... okay. Are you wanting to apply for a job, then? I don’t have openings now, but I might next month if you want to take an application.”
“No, sorry. I’m just”—he cleared his throat—“uh, waiting for a girl. One of your employees.”
She sighed. “I should have known. You’re the boyfriend?”
“Not yet. But hopefully soon.”
