I glare at him before I unlock my phone and look at Sadie’s message. Sure enough, she texted me exactly twelve minutes ago to tell me she and Lauren are watching the newest Timothée Chalamet movie with a couple of other kids from school. I tap out a quick response letting her know I got her message and set my phone down.
“You still need to leave, Everett.” My voice has lost the urgency and panic it had a second ago, but I don’t sound any less vexed.
“Come on, Teen,” he urges in his most calm voice. It’s the exact same voice he used when he wanted me to stay an extra hour at his house, pushing the boundaries of my rarely bendable curfew, or when he gave me the sweetest set of puppy eyes asking me to forgo the last round of reviews for our French final. “You want to grab some breakfast?”
“What.” It’s a question, like saying “excuse me” or “pardon me,” but it comes out so flat it doesn’t sound like a question at all.
“Breakfast,” he repeats. “We can go to the little diner with the hazelnut waffles.”
“Why?” That one sounded more like a question. Becausewhy? Why does he want to have breakfast with me? What could he possibly want that requires food and an hour forced into a booth with nowhere to go besides another public bathroom that smells like bleach and the overpowering stench of toilet water?
He shrugs. “Call it repayment for watching you throw up your insides.”
“You didn’t see that.”
“I saw enough,” he answers. “But then again, I’ve seen you do that plenty of times.” He smirks this time. The jerk smirks like he’s remembering all the times he had to support the weight of my alcohol infused body while we left another party, and he let me sleep it off in the passenger seat of his BMW. And for some reason, it makes my scowl falter, leaving behind a somber pang in my chest I can’t seem to ignore.
“So?” he asks again. “You can drop me off at Josh’s after.”
“Fine.”
* * *
An hour later, after I’ve showered and dressed in something clean and wasn’t a reminder of the night I had, we’re sitting in the small booth at Marie’s. It’s a small mom-and-pop diner in Del Mar Heights with a wide view of Pacific Coast Highway that’s been around for forty years. I used to come here as a kid, and after I brought Everett here for late night hazelnut waffles and Coke floats, it became our regular spot. We spent many nights pouring over homework and hours of comfortable silence or stories that ran on unorganized tangents and laughter.
“We’ll have the hazelnut waffles and two Coke floats,” Everett tells the waitress with two closed menus sitting between us.
“Can you actually make one of those a coffee please?” I add.
The waitress nods, not even bothering to jot our order down on a small notepad.
“Too cool for Coke floats?”
I shake my head. “I just…” I pause, looking at the table to avoid his eyes. “I’m in the mood for coffee.” I chance a glance in his direction, and I immediately regret it, worried he can see through my lie. Like the reason I stay away from Coke floats is because it reminds me too much of Everett. Because the last time I had one is a memory I hate to revisit. And recalling all the subsequent Coke floats I had before that last memory would make me want to throw every caution sign to the wind just so we can rehash our past right here, right now.
“You always got them, Teeny,” he states matter-of-factly, the raspiness of his voice making him sound vulnerable. It’s there, plaited between those five words, whispered through a gravelly thickness with a realization that hits him in the face.
“I’m not the same girl you knew twenty years ago, Everett.” For a moment, the anger that had balled up inside my chest dissolves. I’m so tired. I’m tired of being angry at Leo, at Everett. I’m tired of being angry at love when all I wanted to do was cherish it. I wanted to love someone and be happy. But now, I’m realizing that the only time I did cherish love was when I didn’t know any better. When I thought Everett loved me as much as I loved him.
Everett looks at me, and I look at him. And we stay quiet. As if we’re giving our teenage love a moment of silence so we can grieve its loss. We never had that. At least, I never did. I spent the last twenty years being so resentful, I never gave myself this moment to let go of something that gave me life. But I’m here, waiting for the moment for me to say goodbye to my past. To let it drift off into the calm waters while I watch it peacefully sink into an abyss. And I’m still not ready to let it go.
“Everett, why are you here?” I ask abruptly.
His brow scrunches into a confused scowl. “I told you. Josh?—”
“No, I get that. But why?”
“What do you mean ‘why?’”
“You and Josh haven’t seen each other in twenty years,” I elaborate. “And out of the blue, he decides he wants you to be in his wedding?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know why he asked.”
“And why did you say yes?”
That confused scowl returns with silence.
“You could’ve told Josh you couldn’t. You could’ve made up any old excuse, and Josh wouldn’t have questioned it. So why did you come here?”
