It wasn’t fair that Beck could crawl so easily under my skin after all this time. He barely did anything, barely said anything, and yet it was like he’d put his hands underneath the table of my mind and flipped it.
“Let’s stay for a bit longer,” Carter said, picking his mocha up. He turned a little in his seat, and for a wild moment, I thought he was turning around to talk to Beck. “I’d love to see if anyone around here has a knack for poetry.”
Miraculously, I didn’t have to sit, agonized, in the risk of Carter spotting Beck long. As the poet began his next stanza, Beck stood, raking a hand through his hair. I held my breath, bracing myself for Carter to look up, or Beck to speak, but neither happened. Carter’s eyes remained onthe abysmal poet, and Beck turned so that Carter wouldn’t have been able to see his face, anyway. I tried not to look at him, but he was a car crash, and I couldn’t pull my gaze from the wreck.
Beck’s chin remained level, eyes swiveling down to meet mine.
With a curl to his lip, he shot me a wink.
And then walked past.
I let out my breath when I heard the bell on Crushed Beanz’s door jingle. Carter noticed the harsh sound, turning back. “Are you going to be sick?”
“No,” I said in a voice more confident than I felt. The air seemed less thick now. Less choking. I took a small bite of the muffin, nearly coughing on the overwhelming banana taste. “I think I’ll be okay.”
CHAPTER 6
Every Wednesday night, Jamie attended Alderton-Du Ponte’s book club, which they hosted in one of the lounges. The book club mostly consisted of elderly women, but Jamie had joined a few years ago when he’d heard they’d been planning to readThe Count of Monte Cristo, and had been a consistent member every week since.
Lately, I’d started tagging along with Jamie, despite the fact that I’d rather die than read some stuffy old-timey book. Sometimes staying at home, knowing Dad was only walls away, was worse. Instead, I usually took up residence in one of the plush chairs in ADP’s lobby or at a table in the computer center, working on any homework from school.
The computer lab was where I was today, copying notes from my World History textbook, while Mr. ASMR played in the background.
In the video I watched, he was studying at what looked like a college library, set up in front of a window. Carter’s materials were spread out around him, and, like always, his face was perfectly out of view. It was strange to watch his videos knowing who he was now and how I could see bits of Carter in the study sessions. The way his fingers shakily turned a page, or idly tapped on the table. The soft ambient sounds of the quiet hum of his location filled my brain, keeping me focused.
Focused, aside from the ongoing text convo I was having with Daisy.
My phone, face-up on the table, buzzed.
Daisy
Junie wants pasta, Penn wants pizza, and Theo wants spring rolls. Spring. Rolls. What kind of six-year-old wants SPRING ROLLS???
One with taste.
Daisy
we don’t even have spring rolls. I swear I’ve never fed this kid spring rolls in his life.
Maybe your mom??
Daisy
as if.
Daisy was the primary caretaker of her four siblings, since their mom was the breadwinner. She worked somefancy corporate job in the city, which meant she had to take the two-hour train to and from work each day. After Daisy’s Dad died in the eighth grade, Daisy said she’d hoped her mom would get a job closer. She hadn’t. Instead, Daisy had to step up.
I hadn’t met Daisy until after her dad passed, so I never knew what her life looked like before. She was definitely suited to be a good mother figure. The kind of older sister I wished I’d had.
Daisy
soooo, have you and Carter picked the next time you’re meeting up??
I stared at the keyboard on my phone. Yesterday, after Beck left the coffee shop, my head had cleared. We’d talked a bit more about college, and then Jamie’s future plans, and thenCarter’scollege life—UConn, with a major in business. The conversation had flowed easily, not broaching anything too serious, and it’d been nice. And after Beck had left, it was like he’d disappeared from my mind.
Didn’t you listen? I said I’d remind you what it’s like to really want someone.
“Knock, knock.”
