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Just then, Joaquin appeared at the end of the walk. I hadn’t even noticed him turn onto the street. “Everything okay?” he asked, leaning one hand casually on the fence post.
I pushed myself to my feet, still annoyed by the way he’d treated me at the boardinghouse and laughed me off earlier. “I was just leaving.”
“What did I do?” Joaquin asked, raising his hands as I shoved the gate wider to get by him.
“Like you don’t know,” I shot back.
“Rory, wait,” he said, taking my wrist, but much gentler this time. He glanced meaningfully up at Tristan, but I had no idea what he was trying to communicate. “We need to tell you something.”
“I just told her, man,” Tristan said, rising and pushing his hands into his pockets.
Joaquin blinked, annoyance flashing across his face. “You did?”
“Yeah. About Olive’s drug problem,” Tristan replied, his tone pointed.
Joaquin dropped my wrist and crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”
Tristan jogged down the steps and crossed the walk in two long strides. “Yes, it is.”
“No. It’s not,” Joaquin said with a sardonic laugh.
My pulse raced with curiosity. For a second, they just stared each other down. Joaquin’s nostrils flared. Tristan’s breath grew quick.
“Would one of you just tell me what the hell is going on?” I demanded.
“We need to talk,” Tristan told Joaquin through clenched teeth. “In private.”
He turned and walked back toward the house. After a long moment’s hesitation, Joaquin followed. They stood under the shade of an orange tree, their heads bent close together as they argued in low tones. I tried my best to hear, but the buzzing of the lawn mower was now annoyingly close and I could make out only a few words.
“But she saw me at the station with—”
“Doesn’t matter! She’s not—”
“And then Krista was in the middle of—”
“I’m telling you, I tried and she can’t—”
“Fine!” Joaquin blurted suddenly. “Whatever you say, golden boy.”
He turned and stormed toward me, his face contorted with anger, but he paused on the sidewalk and seemed to make a decision. He put both hands on my shoulders and leaned in close to my ear. I was so startled I almost recoiled, but his grip held me firmly in place.
“Rory, if you want to know anything…if you have any questions at all…you come see me, okay?” He leaned back to look me in the eye, and for the first time the superior glint was gone. He was all sincerity. My heart thumped in surprise. “Anything at all,” he said. “Got it?”
I nodded slowly, baffled and intrigued. “Got it.”
He released me and shot Tristan a sort of defiant, triumphant glare before slipping by and speed-walking up the street. I turned to ask Tristan what that was all about, but he was already gone. All I saw was the door of the gray house closing me out with a resounding thud.
“He probably forgot he said he was going to pick me up,” Darcy theorized later that night, pulling the long sleeves of her white cardigan sweater over her hands as we walked up the steep path toward the bluff where we’d watch the fireworks. The sun was rapidly sinking in the west, and a cool breeze made us all shiver. “At one point we were talking about just meeting on the bluff. I bet he just got mixed up.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Aaron said. “He’s going to feel like a stupid git when you tell him.”
Or he really is a stupid git. But I decided to keep my mouth shut. I wanted to have fun tonight, and that meant not fighting with Darcy. Aaron looked so adorable in a white-and-blue striped rugby shirt and tan shorts, his floppy brown hair tossed by the wind. It made me wish Joaquin was gay so Aaron would have a shot and Darcy could move on.
“Hey, thanks. You look pretty, too,” Aaron said suddenly, slinging his arm over my shoulders.
I blushed. “How did you know what I was thinking?”
“I never miss an admiring glance, especially when it’s focused on me,” he replied with a smile. “But I’m serious. The dress suits you. You should wear dresses more often.”
