I smile at him, but there’s a nervous tugging inside of me.
“We shouldn’t risk this,” I say in a smaller voice. “It’s…you know it’s a bad idea. It would be way too messy.”
He’s quiet for a moment. Finally he says, “I should get you home, secret fake girlfriend.”
“Yes,” I say with a sigh. “You probably should.”
He weaves his hand through mine, and we continue onward like that, hand in hand. As if we really mean something to each other.
Before we exit the park, we pass a group of teens who’ve set up a blanket on the grass and are smoking a joint.
I nudge Cormac. “Doesn’t that make you nostalgic for simpler times?”
He gives a low laugh. “Not even a little. Kenji and I didn’t get invited to your blanket pot parties.”
“No, I bet you were much too busy with robotics to be bothered with a good time. You did go to that one party, though.”
He squeezes my hand. “I left as soon as I could. I didn’t belong there.”
“You left because of me.”
“Not for the reason you thought,” he says, leaving it at that.
I want to ask more questions, but the bond between us is so tenuous now. I don’t want to risk ruining it.
We pass through the park gates together. I know I should release his hand now, but I don’t want to. It feels like if I let go ofhim, this strange closeness that’s been forming between us would fizzle away.
We keep walking companionably, talking about nothing. The park was overly dark, but down here, the town is well-lit with charming streetlights designed to look like old-fashioned gas lamps. It must be past nine, but some of the storefronts are still glowing, and laughing people amble along the sidewalks.
“Looks like there’s some kind of party in the bookstore,” Cormac remarks as we approach the storefront.
Indeed, people are spilling out onto the sidewalk in front of it, and music is drifting from the front door.
“Little Apple Books for the win.”
“Unfortunately, we can’t risk it,” Cormac says. “I don’t want to go in there and get doused.”
“Or he might hit us with his cane.”
We reach the shop window, and both of us peer inside. It’s cozy in there, and the shelves are lined with fairy lighting I can’t imagine that old guy hanging up. Trays of drinks and snacks are set out on a few round tables. People are milling around and?—
Cormac swears and tugs me away.
“What is it?” I ask, reaching up to straighten his glasses.
“Don’t touch me,” he hisses.
He must see the hurt on my face, because he takes my hand and squeezes it before whispering, “Nora. Don’t look, but our parents are in there.Thisis where they’re spending their secret honeymoon.”
Of course, the very next thing I do is look.
“Holy shit,” I say.
There they are, Mr. and Mrs. Applebaum-Peebles, sipping a couple of drinks and talking to the old guy who nearly took us out with his cane. My mom’s wearing a red dress I helped her pick out a few weeks ago, a major departure from her usual earth tones. She looks so happy that for a moment all I can do isstare. Then she glances toward the window, and I pop a squat so quickly, I probably pull a muscle.
Cormac whirls around, giving the window his back, and we both hurry away—me scrambling across the ground like a crab, and him moving sideways with his back to the window, like he’s moonwalking. It’s nearly ridiculous enough to make me laugh. Nearly. When I’m no longer visible from the window, I let him help me back up—and groan at the muscle strain.
We scurry back toward the car in full covert operative mode.
