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His eyebrows rise at the sight of me, and I feel my face warm.
“Hey,” I mutter. “Just getting eggs for my mom.”
“Two dozen eggs. Right here.” He opens a cooler and hands me two cartons with my mom’s name on them.
“Thanks.” I take a step back, unsure of what to say.
Our time together yesterday ended awkwardly. After reaching the parking lot and rejoining the group, we left without saying goodbye to each other.
Okay. I left without saying goodbye tohim. But what was I supposed to do? Give him a hug and make plans to get coffee? He told me that it was “cool” that Dan and I had broken up.
“So…” He fiddles with the cooler, even though it looks fully shut to me. “How is packing going?”
“Almost done.”
He chuckles. “I’m not surprised.”
“Why is that?” I place my fist on my hip and study him, and he chuckles.
“Erin Toomey,” he grins. “Always ahead of the class. Always ahead in everything.”
My spirits drop a little. “Yeah, well, not when it came to social skills. I was practically a pariah.”
His face falls. “You weren’t a pariah.”
I look away. I don’t really want to talk about this, but here we go. “I was. The only time I ever got invited to a party was when you invited me.”
And look at how that ended. For all I know, his plan the whole time was to make a fool out of me. Get the uptight Erin Toomey to show just how imperfect she really was.
His expression softens. “I didn’t know that.”
I’m not sure I believe him. High school Josh was as popular as they come. He had to have noticed I was never at the parties he went to.
Then again, he probably wasn’t looking for me. I probably never crossed his mind.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I wish I had known. I would have invited you to more things.”
I look up at him and see the sincerity in his eyes. Maybe he really didn’t realize how left out I felt.
“Thanks,” I say, trying to let go of some of my bitterness. “That means a lot.”
He nods, and we stand there in silence for a few moments. The air is thick with tension, but it’s not an entirely unpleasant feeling. There’s something there between us, something more than just old high school acquaintances.
“You know…” He toes a clump of dirt. “I thought you were pretty cool in high school.”
“Then why did you make that comment about me? After you…” I can hardly bring myself to say it. “After you kissed me? You said I was high-strung.”
His jaw hardens. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I was nervous, and it just came out. I was trying to make a joke, but then I— I saw right away that I’d put my foot in my mouth. I wanted to apologize, but… you left.”
My face is warm, my mouth parched, my heart racing. What he’s saying makes sense, and it lends a whole new perspective to the event. But it doesn’t close the case.
“You knew where I lived,” I point out. “You could have come over and apologized the next day. Or any time that summer. I was at home.”
Yep. I was always at home or working at my mom’s office. After the debacle at Fletcher’s Pond, I was too embarrassed to show my face in town. I didn’t want any of my classmates to see me, to remember me as the girl who was “too high-strung.”
He nods slowly, looking down at his feet again. “I know. I should have come and apologized, but I was… I was afraid you wouldn’t want to see me.”
That doesn’t make any sense. “Why would I not have wanted to see you? You thought I hated you that much? You were the one who insulted me, Josh. I was there because you invited me.”
