Page 11 of This Changes Everything

“This is so embarrassing.” I threw my face into my hands and sighed. “Why do I keep embarrassing myself in front of you?”

“Why would that matter?”

“What do you mean?” I straightened. My organs all contracted at the exact same time.

“Embarrassing yourself in front of me. Why would that matter?”

“I don’t know.” I diverted my attention back to the forest. “Just does, I guess.”

“But you’re so good at it.” Rory’s smile tightened.

“Whatever.” I kept my eyes locked on the deep, deep woods and frowned. “Jacob’s wrong. I’m not a turtle.”

“I know you’re not,” Rory declared as he dug into his pocket to give me his spare ball. “You’re a bird.” He tossed it on the ground, flipped his hat around again so it was forward-facing, then nodded toward the ball that lay neatly in the grass. “Hit the ball,” he insisted.

“I’m a bird?” I asked, and he nodded. “What kind of bird do you think I am?”

I took a reluctant swing, and in the exact moment I connected with the ball, he said, “Maybe an ostrich?”

SHANK!

The ball flew ninety degrees in front of me, and right in Rory’s direction. Rory screamed as he dropped to the ground, ducking out of the way. The ball rocketed into the forest.

“Shut it, children! We’re on a golf course!” It was Blair shouting this time.

“You almost hit me!” Rory’s eyes were wild. I threw my club into my bag with an embarrassed giggle. “How are you so good, but also so bad?” His smile had taken over his entire face as he grabbed his bag.

“You. That’s how, you dummy. You make me nervous, and you give me the frickin’ yips!” I realized my confession and carefully lifted my eyes to meet his.

“Why do I make you nervous?” His gently sloped, closed-mouth smile had him glowing from the inside out.

“You just do, Rory.” I shook my head dismissively while pulling the backpack-style straps of my bag over my shoulders, then yanking my ponytail free. “We should go. I’m not hitting another ball. I’ve accepted my fate.” We slowly walked toward his ball in the middle of the fairway in silence before I finally said, “I can’t believe you said I’m an ostrich.”

“What?” Rory couldn’t help but laugh. “Is that bad?”

“Yes. That’s bad. Have you ever seen an ostrich?”

“They’re cool!” Rory defended. “Okay, fine. California condor, seeing as that’s where you’ll live one day. Is that better?”

My face scrunched. “I don’t like the idea of being a bird. They’re either all neck or no neck, you know?”

“What do you think I am?” Rory gripped the straps of his bag, his knuckles tensing. All I could hear was the sound of our clubs clanking into each other as we walked.

“Oh man.” I exhaled. I wanted to get this right. I scanned my brain, trying to think of an animal that could somehow secretly convey to Rory exactly who he was and that he was perfect, but without appearing obvious or pathetic. “Maybe a sheep?”

“A sheep?!” he bellowed.

Oh, fuck. I blew it.

“Like, I just follow the crowd?”

“No! Not at all. I didn’t even think about that.” I started to sweat. “You’re calm, and cool, and nothing ever bothers you. And there’s all this stuff under your layers that you hide away.”

Stop talking, Ellie.

“Everyone loves you and your brothers, so you’ve got your herd. And you’re warm and fuzzy and . . . good.”

Stop. Talking.