My heart squeezed tight.
Fuck, I was in love.
Chapter seventeen
August
The date with Drake had been utter perfection. I’d been thinking of it nonstop.
I’d done some errands, and when I pulled up to my house, Rory’s car was parked out front, which meant he’d be home and full of questions. Though after last night, my mind wasn’t as chaotic as it had been before.
One truth had emerged last night. Those bubbling feelings inside for Drake had solidified into something real. Something true.
I grabbed the handful of bags from the grocery store from the back and made my way to the front door.
The second I stepped inside, Rory exploded into view, all lanky limbs and accusations.
“August Evelyn Jones, I’ve been waiting for you.”
The bags dropped from my hands and teetered to the side, the contents rolling out.
“My mangoes!” I dropped to the ground, trying to scoop them up before they escaped out the still-open door.
“Ah, shit, let me help.” Rory chased an errant mango that had almost escaped and brought it over to the grocery bag. He lifted the bag up and strode toward the kitchen. “You’re coming in here, August Henrietta Jones.”
“You do know my middle name is Evan, right?” I muttered, dragging the other bag and my lightly bruised mangoes forward. I’d known from the moment I headed home that I was in for an interrogation, one I’d been avoiding all week. And my folks came home from their house-hunting trip to Florida tomorrow too. They’d be looking for answers from me. They had sent over an email with job listings, house listings, pretty much anything I’d need to move. They even included dentist recommendations and a selection of gay bars.
“Psh, you expect me to remember that?” Rory proclaimed as he set the bag on the kitchen counter.
“You remember my birthday. My middle name shouldn’t be that hard.”
“That’s because it’s your birthday.” Rory leveled me a no-nonsense look. “Middle names are like taints, in between the important shit.”
A laugh burst out of me, deflating some of the tension coiled inside. He was my best friend for a reason, and even though he might have some strong opinions about my plans, I knew in the end he’d support me no matter what.
“What the fuck are all these mangoes for?” Rory asked, picking up several from the bags and placing them on the counter.
“Eating? What the fuckelse would they be for?”
“I don’t know, some new figging fad?” Rory opened the fridge and jettisoned cheese, yogurts, and cherry tomatoes inside.
“Keep my mangoes far away from your ass,” I said, clutching one protectively. “In fact, I think I’m going to carve some up now.” I snagged a knife and cutting board and diced up a few of the mangoes while Rory put away the rest of the groceries. Within minutes, I’d accumulated a little pile of yellow-orange squares, and I popped them in a bowl and joined Rory over at the kitchen table.
The tension returned between us as I set the bowl on the table.
“So how was Drake’s?” Rory asked. “Assuming that’s where you were the other night?”
“Eat some damn mango,” I muttered, pushing the bowl in his direction.
He rolled his eyes and popped a few cubes in his mouth. His nose wrinkled. “Wow, what a shitty fruit.”
“More for me then,” I said, snagging a few and savoring the sweet, sharp taste.
“August, why the fuck would you move to Florida?” Rory burst out, as if he’d been holding that in for far too long. Knowing him, he probably had. “What’s waiting for you there?”
I scrubbed at my face. The truth, the one I knew deep down, was that I couldn’t think of a good reason to go. “I’m just tired of being alone.”
“Uh, pretty sure I’m right here,” Rory said, pointing at his chest.
