“Sometimes,” I say. “I did a lot of art projects in your room.”
“Isthatwhy our RA thought someone had an illicit soldering iron in the dorm?”
I press a hand over my eyes. “Sorry, Isaac.”
“You know what?” he says, pulling Lydia into him and kissing the side of her head. “It’s so fine.”
After they’re dragged away by the wedding party, I turn back to Ren, sliding my hands over his shoulders as the band plays the opening notes of “Your Song,” couples around us moving together across the dance floor. “There has to be more than studying and art projects,” I say, thinking back to freshman year, when we were trying to branch out, grow beyond our teenage selves, but mostly failed. We still preferred each other’s company. “We already knew Portland pretty well. What did we do?”
Ren smiles at me like the answer is obvious.
“What?” I ask.
The hand he has on my waist tightens, fingers spreading up to my ribs, the spot warming under his touch. “It doesn’t matter what we did,” he says, his voice low enough that I have to lean in to hear it. When I look up at him, his face is close, eyes cast down to mine, that easy smile still lighting up his features. “We were together, Joni.”
wednesday
chapter twelve
Ren is already gone when I wake up. The cool morning air comes in through the screens, and I burrow farther under the blankets. Even though yesterday went as well as it could, I don’t feel ready to face the day, to continue on with this charade. But I can hear voices on the other side of the door, and my mom will be in to rouse me if I don’t go inside soon, so I force myself out of bed and shrug on a sweatshirt over my pajamas.
“Well, good afternoon!” my mom says when I walk into the kitchen. She’s at the table, a newspaper open to the crossword in front of her.
“It’s nine,” I say. “Hardly afternoon.”
“The rest of us have been up for hours,” she says. It’s a running joke that whoever gets up first has to give everyone else grief, one tradition I don’t entirely miss.
“Not true,” Stevie mutters as she wanders into the room, also in her pajamas. “You haven’t been up for hours.”
“Well, good afternoon!” our mom says again. Stevie grunts as she settles herself onto one of the tall chairs at the island.
“Sleep well, sweetie?” Hannah asks when I float over to where she stands at the counter,an apron tied around her waist and a butter knife in her hand.
Her free arm comes around me easily, and I lean against her shoulder, a yawn stretching out of me. “Sort of,” I say.
“Oh, dear, it’s those beds, isn’t it?” she says. “See?” She glances over her shoulder at my mom. “We just do another addition. We could use the bathroom.”
“We’re still paying off the air-conditioning,” my mom says. “We could put new beds out there, at least. It would be a good spot for grandkids, one day.”
“What will we do when they both get married, though?” Hannah asks as the timer on the oven beeps, as if I’m not there. “They’ll need better places to sleep.”
The front door opens, and Ren comes in wearing shorts and a T-shirt, a bag in one hand.
“Thank you!” Hannah says, rushing over to him and planting her hands on his cheeks. “Can you believe we forgot to bring coffee?” she says to me, like I’m the only one not updated on the situation.
Ren heads over to where the coffeepot sits near the sink, a quick, polite smile passing between us before he reaches up to grab the grinder from the cupboard.
“Are we all ready for capture the flag tonight?” Stevie asks from her spot at the island.
“I think the parents will probably sit this one out,” my mom says. “Though Greg’s interest was definitely piqued.”
In the tradition of possibly every high school in America, Ren’s dad was the cool science teacher at ours. He’s probably figured out how to make something like capture the flag a class assignment.
“You mean youdon’twant to go skidding down a rocky slope in the dark all in the name of claiming a flag as your own?” I say in mock disbelief.
“Hey,” Stevie says. “It’ll befun.”
“I know,” I say. “I’m kidding.” I raise my arm in some approximation of a fist pump. “Capture the flag!”
