Page 51 of Love Out Loud

Ever the actress, Lark pastes on a high-wattage smile as she lowers herself gracefully to the armchair, leaving my dad and me to the couch. My mom folds her legs underneath her and sits on the floor, her preferred way to sit in any company.

“She’s not so little anymore,” Lark singsongs. “I saw her off to college a few weeks ago.”

Mom gasps. “No. I can’t believe she’s all grown up! Is she at college in Los Angeles? Is that why you’re here?” Her questioning gaze bounces back and forth between the two of us, but I’m still having trouble processing the fact that they’re here—and that I was kissing Lark before they arrived.

My mouth opens and closes a few times. Lark must be able to tell that I’m floundering, because she jumps right in. “No, she’s headed to NYU. I’m here because I’m recording an audiobook this summer. Lennon is working on it, too.”

The sound of my mother’s hands clapping in glee is finally enough to break me free of the mental calculations I’ve been trying to do to figure out how long they’re likely to stay. Based on the size of the duffel bag my dad dropped inside the door, my guess is not long. And the part of me that is still fifteen and overjoyed to see them is at war with the part of me that is forty and jaded and wishes they’d never come. Not to mention the giant part of me that just wants to get back to kissing Lark.

“What brings you two here?” My voice sounds strangled, even to me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Lark’s head snap to me, but I avoid her gaze and, instead, focus on my dad.

“Oh, just passing through,” he says. That fifteen-year-old part of me withers. They’ll stay an hour or so and then be on their merry way.

“Where are you headed this time?” I try to keep the bitterness out of my voice. I really do. But it sneaks in nonetheless.

If my parents hear it, though, they don’t let on. My mom looks up at my dad with a dreamy gaze from where she’s sitting on the floor. My dad looks back at her indulgently.

“We’re on our way up the coast. The plan is to spend the rest of the summer working in wine country, then continue on to Oregon for the fall,” he says.

“What’s in Oregon?” Lark asks politely.

Dad’s face splits into a grin. “Golf.”

“Since when do you golf?” I ask, frowning.

“Since never!” he exclaims. “But I guess no one is a golfer until they try it, so I might as well give it a shot.”

Mom nods emphatically, her eyes wide and her eyebrows raised. I glance at Lark, but she’s already looking at me. The corners of her mouth pull down as if to say he has a point.

No one is part of Drama Club until they come to a meeting.

I blink rapidly to dispel the memory, but maybe she’s right. Maybe Dad does have a point. I guess I just kind of always wish they’d try to be part of something permanent instead of looking for the next something to try.

“How long are you in town for?” Lark asks. “Can you join us for lunch?”

I can’t tell if she really wants them to stay or if she’s faking it, but she just clasps her hands in her lap and smiles sweetly, waiting for their response. Dad winces as if he’s getting ready to apologize, but Mom looks up at him again, this time pleading.

“Oh, I think we can stay for lunch, right, Arlo?”

Dad scrunches up his face. “I wanted to get back on the road before it gets dark.”

Mom laughs. “It’s a good thing lunch is well before sunset, then.”

What my mom wants, my mom gets. Dad has always done anything to make her happy, including moving me halfway across the country multiple times during my school-age years. It was because of this that I went straight to her during my junior year when I caught wind that they were planning another move. I begged her to let me stay. I told her I could stay with Lark if they couldn’t stick around, even though Lark’s family hadn’t offered.

I didn’t even tell Lark. I couldn’t bear to. I just started pulling away like I always did when I figured out we were leaving. I never forgave myself for that, either. It’s a core memory now, seared into my mind.

“What’s going on with you?” There was an angry edge to her voice, but she seemed concerned more than anything else.

“What do you mean?” I evaded. She must have known I was avoiding answering her, because she pursed her lips, cocked an eyebrow, and glared silently at me. Even though I knew she was angry, she was so cute when she did that. I was overcome with the urge to cup the back of her head and bring my lips to her forehead.

“You’ve been distant,” she says finally, saving me from the embarrassment that would surely have come if I had let myself kiss her.

I shrugged. “Sorry. Things are just…weird.” That, at least, was the truth. I was so upset about the possibility of moving again that I had made some mistakes, and I wasn’t sure how to make up for them.

Lark covered my hand with hers, intertwining her delicate fingers with my lanky ones. She squeezed, looking up from where she was seated on the couch next to me. “You can tell me anything. You know that, right?”

Anything? Like how my heart beat faster at the mere thought of her? Like how I thought far too often about what her pink lips tasted like? Like how I had wanted to ask her on a proper date for years?