Now, as Nora and I walk away from the restaurant, I lean in and say, “I’m sorry. I couldn’t possibly go bowling with them. But the situation might work itself out. They didn’t seem to be on the same page about her attempts to blackmail us into bankrolling her business.”
She laughs in my face, which feels very natural for us. Then she wraps her hand around my arm and draws in closer, which does not. “I couldn’t go bowling with them either. God, could you imagine?”
I laugh with her, grateful to have escaped the restaurant. It’s no less overwhelmingly hot out here, but there’s a gentle breeze, and right now it’s scented with ginger. I take a step to the side to allow a couple to pass us. They’re carrying heaping bags of apples, which surely must be out of season. Do apple orchards import apples when it’s the wrong time of year? Or is there an indoor orchard somewhere, the trees reaching up toward the sunlight?
I feel like an indoor tree sometimes—unnatural and out of place. But right now, I’m grateful to be myself. Because that’s what got me here in this moment and place, with Nora.
“Nora?” a familiar voice calls from behind us.
Pansy’s voice. I’d know it anywhere. I’ll probably hear it in my nightmares.
I swear under my breath, staring at Nora in alarm. “She’s not done with us.”
Mischief lights her eyes.
“Like hell.” She yanks my arm and starts running.
I run with her, a stupid grin forming on my face as we wind down the next alleyway, away from the car. We race past a couple of obvious tourists wearingAn Apple a Dayhats, jog acouple of blocks, and turn onto another street, popping out in front of a bookstore called Little Apple Books.
There’s a bench on the corner of the block, situated next to an enormous mosaic apple sculpture, and I lead her over to it, both of us panting slightly. I should probably let go of her hand now, but I don’t.
Maybe they’ll still see us, I tell myself.
We sit down on the bench, too close to each other, and Nora starts laughing, her whole body shaking with mirth. “You think she knows we heard her?”
“You can tell her we’re into couples jogging,” I say with a grin, adjusting my glasses. “Or parkour. I’ve always wanted to tell someone I’m into parkour so I could see the expression on their face.”
She laughs, but once her laughter fades, her dark brows cinch together. “You did all of this for me. No one’s ever done anything like this for me before.”
“You practically wrestled a raccoon for Cookie. It was the least I could do.”
She studies me seriously. “Nathaniel told me you’re the only one who went to his Earth Day party, and that you always buy his sun tea when he sells it at the farmer’s market.”
“It’s not bad.”
“It’s horrible.”
“I give it to my dad. He likes it.” I rub my forehead. “And yeah, I like Nathaniel. He talks too much, but he seems lonely.”
She nods as if what I said proves her point. “You rigged up your whole house with inventions to make Cookie happy.”
“Are you going to continue telling me things I already know about myself?”
“Maybe.” Her expression is impossible for me to read. She’s leaning closer to me, though, and my heart is beating fast.
Her red lips remind me of a beacon, when they should be astop sign. I know better than to kiss her. There’s no way she likes me as much as I like her, and there are our parents to consider. If I tried to kiss her, and she pulled away, I’d have to face that awkwardness for the rest of my life.
But I lean in just a little, drawn in by her. I hesitate, our faces tipped close, enough that I can see the barely there freckles dusting the bridge of her nose.
“Am I supposed to tell you facts about you too?” I ask, letting myself brush a strand of hair out of her face. A boyfriend would do that.
“If you feel like boring both of us.”
My fingers linger on her chin, lifting it up to me. “You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met.”
She shakes her head, because of course she does. Nora has never not argued with anyone. I don’t know what it says about me that I like that about her.
“I’m afraid all the time,” she confesses.
