Page 54 of Head Under Water

“Among other things. I just…I don’t want to lead you on, Opal. I really like you, and I want to keep getting to know you. But I also won’t pretend to be someone I’m not. And I hope you won’t either. We don’t have to be perfect matches. We can just have fun. Whatever that means to you.”

Warmth spreads through my fingers. “I don’t need you to be anything you’re not. Really. I’m not looking to get married, Banks. And I want you to focus on the things that matter to you. That’s not an issue for me.”

A corner of his lips ticks up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry if I said something wrong. I tease because it’s sort of my thing⁠—”

“You didn’t,” he cuts me off. “I just… I get single-minded about the things that matter to me. I like plain cheeseburgers because I can eat them with one hand while I’m studying. I go to Frank’s because it’s not far from campus, and when I find a place I like, I stick to it. But I’m mad at myself for not asking where you’d like to go. I get like that, and it’s been an issue in the past. So please don’t get offended if I forget things or bail on dates because I’m studying and I forgot about our plans. It’s a me thing, you know? And I’m working on it, but I’m also not…really trying to change, if that makes sense. I am who I am, and I like who I am. I just want to be upfront about it. Not that I think we’re serious or anything—I can’t be serious because I’m leaving after I graduate and going back home. But that doesn’t mean I don’t respect you. I do. I really, really do. I think you’re fascinating, Opal. And obviously beautiful. And I’d like to keep getting to know you, if that sounds good to you? I just don’t want to lie to you about what that’ll look like.”

Everything he’s said washes over me, and I try to process it quickly. It’s not ideal to be told you’re going to always come in second to his education, but at the same time, what else did I expect? What sort of monster would want to be put first over his future? I’m just a random girl he’s taking out on one date. He deserves to focus on his life without me pressuring him, being needy.

If anything, I should be taking notes. Learning from him.

This is the most put-together, grown-up man I’ve ever met, and I’m glad he’s telling me this now. He’s not playing games. I don’t have to guess what he’s thinking or what he wants.

It’s new and fresh and…probably exactly what I need.

“I don’t need you to be anyone else,” I say finally. “And I have a life too, you know? I’m okay with letting this be whatever it’s going to be.”

The worry on his face evaporates. “Good. Okay, good.”

And it is.

Good.

Both the date—the food and the conversation—and the kiss at the end of the night. Banks is perfectly good, and for this new, grown-up version of me, that’s exactly enough.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

PRESENT DAY

Mom’s feeling better, so we can finally go out to celebrate my birthday. I’ve never been more grateful for a distraction, and birthdays with her are nothing short of all-consuming.

She and I have two big “holidays” outside of the regular ones. My birthday and the anniversary of my dad’s death.

We recognize them in different ways, obviously.

For the anniversary of Dad’s death, it’s quiet. Growing up, she surprised me with gifts outside my bedroom door each year, just to let me know she was thinking of me. And since I left home, she has always managed to have something delivered to me wherever I am.

We’ve never once actually acknowledged the tradition—talking about the hard stuff has never been our thing—but the sentiment means so much more than any words could.

And for my birthday, it’s our anniversary, she likes to remind me. So why wouldn’t we go all out? Skipping school, beach trips, concerts, shopping sprees…the sky’s the limit for our one special day a year.

This year, it’s probably the quietest birthday celebration we’ve ever had, and somehow, it’s exactly what I need. Quiet feels safe. Predictable.

No almost-kisses in kitchens.

No loaded sentences I can’t put meaning to.

Just food and my mom and a few hours pretending everything isn’t unraveling.

We drive a few towns over for brunch, stop by some of our favorite stores, and then go to a bakery and eat as much cheesecake as we can possibly stand.

Then it’s back to shopping.

“How are you and Will getting along?” Mom asks, giving me a sidelong glance as we pilfer through clothing racks at yet another store. She pulls the collar of her shirt up, barely catching her cough in time. She swore to me she was feeling up to this, but she’s still not fully recovered.

Guilt gnaws at me. Maybe I should’ve insisted she rest for another day or two.