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“And frostedness.”
“Yes. And frostedness.”
Talking like this, I am forgetting that this isn’t A. I am forgetting that we’re not on a regular date.
“Moving on…,” I say, taking us to the next aisle, and the one after.
We pick up a ridiculous amount of food. As we’re nearing the checkout, I realize there’s no way I am going to be getting home when my parents are expecting me.
“I should call my mom and tell her I’m eating at Rebecca’s,” I tell A.
“Tell her you’re staying over,” he says.
My phone is in my hand, but I don’t know what to do with it. “Really?”
“Really.”
Staying over. I think about the cabin. About what happened. I mean, what didn’t happen. And how that felt.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” I say.
“Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”
I want to trust him. But he also doesn’t know what it was like. And he might have the wrong idea of what a night might lead to.
“You know how I feel,” I say.
“I do. But still, I want you to trust me. I’m not going to hurt you. I will never hurt you.”
Okay. I look into his eyes and I feel like he knows. There’s a plan—there’s definitely a plan. But it’s not going to be a repeat of the cabin. He knows what he’s doing, and I do trust that.
I call my mother and tell her I’m at Rebecca’s and will be staying there. She’s annoyed, but I can deal with that.
The harder part is calling Rebecca.
“I need you to cover for me,” I say. “If my mom calls for any reason, tell her I’m over.”
“Where are you?” she asks. “Are you okay?”
“I am. I promise I’ll tell you about it later—I can’t right now. But I’m okay. I might not even be out the whole night. I just want to make sure I’m covered.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Really. It’s good.”
“Okay. But I expect a full explanation this time. Not your usual evasion.”
“I promise. I’ll tell you everything.”
She says to have a good time. I think it’s remarkable that she’s trusting me. But she is.
“You’ll tell her you met a boy,” A says once I’ve hung up.
“A boy I just met?”
&n
bsp; “Yeah. A boy you’ve just met.”
