He looks at me, and I know he’s putting the pieces together. “Just have her toss it in the back,” he finally says. “I’m going to go check out.”
“See you at home?” I hold out my fist, which he bumps with his.
“See you at home.” He heads for the large set of automatic doors but after three steps stops and turns. “Hey, Al? Be careful.”
Usually, I would roll my eyes and dismiss him with a wave and a cheeky comment. Something along the lines of “Sure, Mom,” but I’m almost positive he’s not talking about the bike ride.
After a deep breath, I make my way over to Jules, who appears way more anxious than she did earlier this morning. “Hey.” I smile, trying to put her at ease despite my own fluttering set of nerves. “So I was thinking that maybe we could take my bike up the Skyline. Check out the view and talk about things. Didn’t really get a chance to do that this morning.”
Her cheeks darken to a shade of pink that matches her cardigan. She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear and nods. It’s adorable. “That sounds nice.” She frowns. “What about my bag?”
“Mase said he’d take it.”
She stares at me, not unlike the way Mason was just a moment ago. “Let me just tell Chloe, then we can go.”
The drive is gorgeous. I still prefer the fall foliage, but there’s something to be said about the blue sky and pink cherry blossoms and fresh blooms along the trees. It may also help that Jules has her arms wrapped tightly around my midsection as we wind through the trail.
When we reach high enough up to stop, I park in the shade, and we find a spot away from the other visitors. Jules sits close but not close enough to touch and sighs when she looks out over the tree line.
I wish I knew what she was thinking. “If you could fly anywhere in the world, where would you go?” I ask.
She smiles wistfully. “Aruba.”
“Not with my mom and Richard, I hope?”
She laughs and shoves my shoulder. “No. It’s just on my mind.” I hum. “What about you?”
I say the first place that pops into my mind. “Kyoto.”
She nods like she knew it would be someplace random, just like I knew she’d pick a beach, and focuses back on the sight in front of her. “Is that next on your list? Japan?”
For a split second, I debate telling her that I’m not planning on going anywhere. But I’m fairly certain she’d be able to see through the lie. “I’m thinking about England, actually. I’ve been looking at schools out there.”
“For grad school?” I can see the worry behind her sunglasses. “I thought maybe you’d go back to France. Or Greece.” She blushes, and it makes me regret telling her about Sophia. “Why England?”
“I dunno. I really like eating baked beans on a piece of toast for breakfast?” She doesn’t find it funny. Not that I blame her. I loved France. I’d go back to visit in a heartbeat, but just like with Greece and Portugal, I would never stay there. They were just temporary stops in my need to keep moving.
I’m not sure how to explain all that to her. To put into words that when I slow down, things become real, and I don’t know how to deal with them. Things like my brother being sick and being attracted to my best friend.
“It’s hard to sit still,” I finally say. It’s not a good enoughexplanation. I’m just not sure how else to describe it without exposing every single piece of me. “I thought about backpacking in Italy this summer,” I confess. I see her tense. “I’ll probably just go back to New York, though. Get in some extra work hours at the gym.”
She goes quiet. It’s not a panicky kind of quiet, not like when I told her I would be gone our senior year and missing out on all the plans we made, but more contemplative. Like maybe she does, in some way, understand all the things I’m unable to say. “Do you feel weird? About last night?”
“Do you?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “I asked you first.”
Confused, worried, a little bit hopeful. But not weird. Nothing about being with Jules is weird. “No. I don’t feel weird.”
“I don’t feel weird, either,” she says softly. “Itwaseye-opening, though.”
My stomach twists, not knowing what that means and too scared to ask. But talking about itisthe reason we came up here. So I steady myself and ask, “Is that good or bad?”
Her laugh sounds soft and breathy. “It’s good. It confirmed a few things. About me and whether or not I was capable of liking sex with another girl, I mean.”
Is that all last night was? A no-strings experiment? Jules using me to discover parts about herself in a safe space? If that’s the case, then it wasn’t her catching feelings. I exhale to try to push down the overwhelming sense of disappointment. After all, that’s what we said we wanted.
So why do I suddenly feel so fucking sad?
