Page 63 of Don’t Be A Stranger

“And do you think it’ll always be that way?”

Are you sure you won’t grow out of me?

I’m prepared for her to ask me where all of this is coming from. Or for her to tell me that I’m being ridiculous. Or that maybe we shouldn’t be having this conversation right now. Not until the fall. Not until we’re back to being strictly friends again.

“I know that for me, no matter where I go or what I do or who I’m with, I’ll always want you there, River. When you’re not around, I feel it in my body. Almost like…alarm bells going off. When there’s a lack of you, I notice it immediately. I don’t really want to know a life without you. I think it’d be pretty boring.” Summer smiles.

Boring doesn’t even sum up what a life without Summer would be like, but because I don’t even know where I’d start to try and put it into words, I agree with her.

“Yeah.” I smile. “I think it’d be pretty boring too.”

“Good.” She’s now the one holding her palm face up, waiting. “Let’s stick together then, okay?”

I tap my palm against hers.

Pull away. High-five. Fist bump.

“That’d be more than okay.”

Twenty-One

River

“Okay, you’re supposed to blot, not scrub, dude.”

“I am!” I argue with Moose.

I’m currently on my hands and knees but unfortunately not in a sexy way. Instead, in a desperate way of trying to get a stain out of Stone’s carpet.

I came in here to look for some extra colored pencils Stone said I could grab. He doesn’t usually like anyone in his room, so I was considerate enough to text him and ask.

Trying out color in my artwork is a recent thing, so I don’t tend to have a lot of colored art supplies lying around. But watching Summer eat her breakfast this morning while the sunrise cascaded around her, warm, glowing, and hair still braided was enough inspiration.

I planned on a quick trip of grabbing the pencils and walking straight out of Stone’s room, leaving everything untouched. But Moose thought it’d be a great idea to pop out from behind the doorway and drop his voice extremely low, pretending he’s Stone.

In hindsight, it probably wasn’t the best idea for me to be holding a soda can when I stepped into Stone’s near sterile bedroom. I had a certain level of confidence at the time that I now regret.

“Remember to start on the outside edges and work your way to the center,” Moose instructs me.

I stare up at him, deadpan. He thinks reading instructions off the internet has now made him a cleaning guru. I could’ve done it myself but I needed the moral support.

“What?” Moose looks up from his phone. He hasn’t even dared to step past the doorway into Stone’s room. I’m sure he’s just as nervous to ruin something and get Stone’s “I’m not mad, just disappointed” lecture.

To completely avoid that, I continue scrubbing—I mean blotting—while Moose lists other ways to get the stain out. All of which involve a carpet cleaner or club soda. Two things that we don’t have right now.

Moose’s phone rings. He brings it up to his ear. “Hey, babe.”

I can hear Bethany’s muffled voice through the phone. The room grows quiet and I’m fully prepared for Moose to ditch me in a matter of five seconds.

“Well, can you get her off the table?”

My interest is piqued and I’m now focused on Moose’s conversation rather than the mix of warm water and vinegar I’m dabbing into the carpet.

“No, absolutely not.” Moose’s voice grows stern. A rare occurrence. “You’re not driving. I’ll be right there, okay?”

Screw this stain. When Stone gets back, I guess I’ll just have to sit through his fifteen-minute lecture about being careful. Stone is usually pretty quiet. He’s bulky and tall and a machine out on the ice. He’s the epitome of well…a stone. Which is why getting in “trouble” with Stone sucks. The guy is cool, calm, and collected. All he asks is that we clean up after ourselves and respect his space.

“We’ve got an errand to run, my friend.” Moose slips his phone into his back pocket.