Evan:
Yes.
Scarlett:
Cool.
The three dots appear and disappear a few times and I laugh to myself as I cut a piece of pie for me and one for my dad. Scarlett and I haven’t spoken much over the Thanksgiving break, and I’ve been trying to keep my distance since the games night, but that’s not exactly going to be possible when classes start again and our presentation is due.
My phone pings again.
Scarlett:
Happy Thanksgiving, Evan.
My heart shouldn’t ache the way it does when those words light up my screen. Maybe it was because she’s finally accepted my help or maybe it’s because of whatever happened the other night, but I think Scarlett is really warming up to me now. Some part of me has always wanted this. The texting, spending time together outside of class, getting to know her beyond her polished exterior. And now that it’s becoming a reality, I have no idea what to do with myself.
I balance the two plates of pie in my hands, pushing open the door to the living room with my hip. My dad has claimed his usual corner on the couch, a newspaper spread across his lap. When he sees me come in, he folds the paper and takes off his glasses, eyeing me suspiciously.
“What are you smiling about?” he asks, retrieving a plate from my hand.
“Pie,” I say, sitting beside him and taking a bite. “Always.”
He chuckles deeply, shaking his head. “I remember when you used to hate this time of year as a kid. You’d get more stressed about the holidays than I did.”
I shrug. “I hated a lot of things as a kid.”
“That’s true.” He takes a forkful of the pie, settling deeper into the cushions. “You didn’t tell me. How were the rehearsals for Jaden’s event?”
“They went well. I have a solo at the beginning of the night,” I tell him, and the pride in his voice and on his face is immediate.
“You do?”
“Yeah. Jaden wanted someone to come in earlier to set the tone for the night, and I volunteered.”
He jerks his elbow into my side, and I laugh. “I’m glad, son. I’m happy you have this . . . this thing that’s yours.”
“Me too.”
