As she backs out of the spot, my eyes wander to the left side of the steps that lead to the front entrance. Aninnocuous spot for any average passer-by, but one that holds a rolodex of memories for me–good, bad, and ugly.
“Eleanor, I swear it was never about that for me.”
“Griffin Hart, I will never fucking forgive you for this.”
Shaking the memory from my head, I stare straight ahead as we head to the diner, determined to recreate a classic Friday night dinner, willing myself to think about anything but that.
Chapter 11
Griffin
May, Age 16
Griffin:Guys, we need to talk
My stomach has been in knots since that day at The Park. Every day that I don’t deal with this–every day I don’t tell Eleanor how I feel–leaves more room for potential disaster.
And I love them, I really do, but if Jack and David are involved (mostly David), it’s aguaranteeddisaster.
I told myself this morning that I would suck it up and tell the guys how I feel about Eleanor before the last week of school. And I’m still technically following through, even if I did wait to send that text until the last Sunday of the school year.
Jack:What’s up?
Griffin:Can y’all come over?
When neither of them reply, I send another text.
Griffin:I know Sundays are sacred
Griffin:I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important
Jack: …I guess. I can be there in 20.
Griffin:Thanks man
Griffin:David?
Still no response from him. I check the clock and see that it’s close to 8:30 PM, so I know his family dinner is over.
Griffin:David, don’t be annoying
Griffin:Where the hell are you?
Griffin:Hello???????
Jack:Do you still want me to come over?
One is better than none, I guess.
Griffin:Yeah man that’d be great thanks
Griffin:David, fuck you
If that doesn’t get a response of out him, nothing’s going to. I don’t have time to figure out what he’s up to–me and Jack can fill him in tomorrow at lunch.
Twenty minutes later, Jack is sitting on the couch, staring at me while he waits for me to start talking.
“What the hell do you think David is doing?” I mutter, stalling for time.
