I stared at Daisy’s message for what felt like hours before sending a reply. And another. Then I called multiple times. Desperate, I texted Gwen instead.
I need to talk to Daze.
Three little dots appeared, and I held my breath for her response.
It sucks, I know, but I have to respect her wishes. You do, too.
Is she mad at me or something?I typed the reply in a panic.
I think it’s just hard for her, you know?
Why was Gwen being so cryptic?
It’s hard being friends?I texted.
She needs space.
We had thousands of miles of space. I replayed the stilted phone calls, interrupted FaceTimes, and missed texts. Sure, we hadn’t nailed friendship from afar, but I still wanted her in my life. I would never not want her in my life.
Daisy’s trying to figure stuff out right now, and as her friends, we can’t pressure her,Gwen went on.You know how she is. She has to do things on her own time.
All the years I wasted flashed through my mind. The missed moments. I should have kissed her at prom. I shouldn’t have done the summer program. I should have gone to school in LA like my original plan.
I lay back on my bed, my eyes stinging. During orientation, one counselor talked about adjusting to college life and how homesickness might hit. But I didn’t miss home. I missed her.
This summer, I’d been a terrible friend, and every decision I made dragged me further from Daze. I was angry at her for pushing me away, too, but I was angrier with myself—especially because Gwen was right. The more I tried to patch up the damage I’d done, the more Daisy would withdraw.
Can you at least tell her I’m thinking of her?It was probably overstepping bounds, but I didn’t care. She could ask me to stop reaching out, but she couldn’t control if I thought of her. And I would, all the time, until I could find a way back into her life.
Chapter Forty
Max, Now
“Did Daze kick you out?” Ava asks.
“No.” A hot spritz of grease hits my wrist, as if it’s punishing me for paying more attention to my phone than cooking. There’s no point in checking the device constantly. I only called late last night, and this morning was probably busy for her. I bet she hasn’t even seen the notification yet.
“Then why are you here?”
“You hadn’t mentioned you two were dating,” my mom says, not lifting her gaze from the paper’s politics section.
“You broke up with her?” Ava asks.
“No.” I’m not in the mood to talk—even less so with my parents sitting at the dining table.
“So you’re together?” Ava rests her elbows on the kitchen island to assess me.
Daisy didn’t tell me to leave, but I would have rather collapsed into quicksand than sleep in the casita’s guest bedroom again. We avoided each other the rest of opening night, and after an awful, fitful slumber on the sofa bed, I packed up my stuff from her house and headed here, which was an added blow. I wanted to go to Daisy, comfort her, and figure us out, but she made herself clear.
“Daisy and I…” What’s the best way to explain this to my teenage sister? “We’re taking a break.”
“Forever?”
My parents don’t chime in with more questions, but they both lower their papers and make eyes at each other.
“Can I cook breakfast without an interrogation?” I have a few hours before I’ll be on the plane, so I should try to get some food in my stomach. I add the egg mixture to the other side of the pan, opposite the burned sausage. Daisy’s so much better at cooking than I am. “I don’t feel like having my love life analyzed at the moment.”
“Ah.” My sister nods her head. “So she broke up with you.”
