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"I'm fine," I lie.
"He broke up with you, Blondie. He's not coming back. You can be sad about it." I know I shouldn't trust Wilder, but I don't have anything to lose at this point. Cash is gone. Fanny Allred made sure of that. There's nothing for Wilder and me to fight over anymore. There's just...
I let a few hot, salty tears slip down my cheeks. One collects along my lips, and I raise a hand to wipe the evidence away.
Evidence that I loved Cash.
Evidence that I thought we had a future together.
Evidence that this feels like a betrayal.
Evidence that this hurts.
It hurts. It hurts like the time Mom forgot me at the grocery store. I sat on a parking lot curb waiting for hours. It wasn't until Dad got home from work and asked about me that she realized she left me at the store.
She didn't even come to pick me up. Dad did.
Being forgotten is like trying to fit a key into a lock that doesn't fit. Or waking up to an empty house on a Saturday morning. Or waiting in the rain for someone to notice you.
I don't want to spend my time worrying about being forgotten anymore. I think I want to have fun again. Like I used to before I started dating Cash.
"We have eight weeks before classes start," I say, startling Wilder.
"And?"
"And I'm tired of not having fun," I force a smile. "We should make a bucket list."
"A bucket list?"
"Yeah," I nod my head. "A Lonely Summer Bucket List. We'll each choose four things we want to do and do one a week until the summer is over."
"I get to pick four things and you have to do them?" Wilder sits up straighter.
"They have to be within reason."
"Get a tattoo."
"Okay," I agree. "Sneak into the movie theatre."
"Skinny dip at the lake."
"Uh," I lick my lips nervously. "Can it be at night?"
"Right," Wilder snaps his fingers. "Rules 1 and 2. Yeah, we can do nighttime if you want."
"Sneak onto the golf course and play a round," I flash my eyebrows at him.
"Dinner at the country club," Wilder grins.
"Ooh," I laugh. "I like that one."
"And we have to dress fancy," he adds.
"Deal," I agree as I clap my hands. "Go to a Smashing Trout concert."
"Fuck no," he quickly shuts me down.
"I agreed to skinny dip at the lake," I remind him. "You're going to a Smashing Trout concert."
