“I’m sorry,” I say. “Maybe we both need some space. It was stupid to think we could be friends.”
“Lucy,” Ethan calls, but I turn on my heel and start walking as quickly as I can to the pergola around the side of the clubhouse, forcing myself to keep going, to not look back and see where he isor what he’s doing. Everything swirling in my chest is a frustrating mix of contradictions. I don’t want to be with Ethan. Iknowthat. But the idea of him with Millie, of him withanyone, is more painful that I imagined.
Under a pergola covered in wisteria, I drop onto a bench and rest my forehead on my knees. My hands make fists, and I force myself to breathe in and out, to focus on the distant sound of waves crashing and tennis balls thwacking, which is why I don’t hear the footsteps coming up behind me.
“Hey.” I lift my head and see Olivia walking toward me in a tennis dress and sneakers, her smile wide. But when she sees my blotchy complexion, the tears in my eyes, her mouth falls and she sits down beside me, touching her fingers to my shoulder. “Are you okay?”
To my horror, I whimper, and Olivia wraps an arm around my back and pulls me to her. She smells of lilac and sunscreen, of summer.
“Gonna take that as a no,” she says softly into my hair, which only causes me to cry harder. “Is this about Ethan?” she asks.
I nod, pressing my teeth into my bottom lip. “But,” I start, “not because I want him back.”
Olivia nods slowly. “It’s okay to feel sad for something you don’t want.” She keeps her arm steady around me, running her fingers up and down my back.
“He kissed Millie. Or Millie kissed him. Or they kissed each other. I don’t know. That’s what’s bothering me.”
Olivia twists her face into a grimace. “Oof. That’s kinda gross.”
“It is, right?”
“Definitely.” She pauses. “But is that all? A one-time kiss?”
“You’re saying a one-time kiss doesn’t mean anything?” I raise an eyebrow at her, and she lets out a laugh.
“Touché.” Olivia leans back on her elbows and looks toward the water, the tiny waves rolling toward us. “I think it’s normal to be freaked out. And that you still care for Ethan.”
I open my mouth to protest, but she holds up her hand.
“Come on. Don’t deny it. It’s not a bad thing. That’s how relationships are. They don’t end abruptly, or start that way either. And our job as people who want to love, who want to feel that kind of tether toward another person, is to accept that the people we like aren’t ours to keep or control or put in tiny boxes.”
I take in her words, watching her mouth set into a straight line. It’s not a smile nor a frown, just a neutral, placid look of understanding.
“When did you become a fortune cookie?” I ask.
“I’m just saying that nothing will take away the time you guys had together. Just like nothing will take away whatwehad.” A small smile forms on her lips. “What we could have.”
The edge of her arm grazes mine, and I lean into her, testing how close I can get before she pulls away. But she doesn’t. She stays still.
“What are you saying?” I ask, my voice quiet.
Olivia reaches her fingers up to graze my cheek. “All I mean is if I do this,” Olivia whispers, tilting her head slightly, so close I can feel her lips hovering in the space above mine, “it doesn’t change anything about your past or mine. It can just be a kiss.” She pauses.
The freedom in that statement is overwhelming. I don’t know what I want from the future, from her, but I do know that it feels good to lean forward and close the space between us and press mymouth to hers so gently, she’s a feather, a fine piece of linen, a slick of ice. I don’t want to think about Ethan or Millie or anything else besides the rush of air and warmth filling my lungs. The promise that life is a steady drumbeat, moving me forward—only forward—and that every action does not need to symbolize some great betrayal, movement, change.
A kiss can just be a kiss.
And maybe that means I can learn to forgive Ethan and Millie.
Millie
We’ve been at the tennis tournament for nearly twenty minutes, and I still haven’t approached Trevor, who’s standing only a few feet in front of me, talking to some kids from our class. The courage I summoned at home has dissipated now that we’re actually here, surrounded by all our friends and neighbors, people who clearly don’t want to be thinking about Billy’s death.
Mr.and Mrs.Godwin are here, sitting front-row center in the bleachers near the over-forty-five men’s singles tournament, clapping politely with each point, nodding as people come talk to them, pay their respects. Part of me wonders if Mr.Godwin wouldreallyhurt his own son.
“Okay, so what you’re going to do is this,” Frankie says, sidling up next to me. She’s got a box of popcorn and is munching loudly next to me near the back of the crowd. “Ask Trevor if he thinks Erica could have left me a threatening note. Play the pity-friend card.We never hang out anymore.” Frankie pouts and makes puppy dog eyes before flashing back to her normal self. “Works every time.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
