Page 28 of Pining for You

“One Christmas tree doughnut, my good man,” I say to the clerk, and when he gives it to me a moment later in a paper bag, I pass it to Cash.

“For me?” he says, and when I nod, he gasps and puts a hand over his mouth. I got a little Christmas bonus from Joany, and even though I need every dollar for next year, that expression of delight is priceless, and I can’t say no when there’s such a simple way to put a smile on my friend’s face. “I’m going to save this for a first kiss celly later,” he says, and stashes it in his jacket pocket.

“We’ll see,” I say. My stomach churns with fresh nerves. We spent so much time discussing the logistics of the trip, but never the whole kissing part of it. Now that we’re here, I remember that I have no idea what that looks like. I try to contain my panic—and keep the memory of Michelle’s words and promise from messing with my focus.

“It’s been so long since we’ve even broached the topic of your romantic life,” he says. “Now you’ve gone and grown up without me.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault you fell in love and we stopped having our sleepovers,” I say, happy to keep it light.

When Cash moved to town freshman year, we became friends immediately, and Naomi practically offered him residency in our house. Every Friday night, he took her up on it, and we stayed up late watching movies and eating snacks and he would fall asleep at the foot of my bed on a pile of pillows. Even Michelle sometimes came to hang out with us—that was back in the before times.

Then, sophomore year, he and Izaac had a meet-cute over a mistaken oat milk latte mix-up at Rhapsody, and Fridays became date night for them. It sucked at first but then I met Izaac, and I also fell in love with him, and the two of them as a couple. So when they started spending more time together, I couldn’t be mad about it.

“Well, I for one cannot wait for you to fall in love, and witness the look on this girl’s face when she sees you later,” he says, but it comes out distracted. Now that he’s finished taking photos of doughnuts, he’s back to scrolling again.

“You’re not going to see anything if you don’t put that thing down.” I whack him with my glove.

“You sound like an old,” he says, and I give him a look. He pockets his phone, looks at me very deliberately, and takes my hands. “I’m sorry, you’re right. I’m here! One hundred percent present, just for you.”

“You are my favorite present,” I say, and he puts an arm around me. “But speaking of old, you are getting up there yourself.

He sighs heavily.

“Eighteen. Groan. Just put me out to pasture.” He drops my hands and pulls up his phone again, this time turning the camera around to assess his skin, as if an actual wrinkle might have popped up during the train ride.

“Who even are you?” I ask. “You love your birthday! Which reminds me, we are tragically behind on planning a celebration…

As the words are coming out of my mouth, it occurs to me that maybe this is some of what’s been on his mind. Cash is the oldest of us and will be a full-blown adult right after the new year. Maybe the idea is scaring him a little? Or maybe he’s upset that we haven’t planned anything yet?

“I do love it, but life is life-ing more than usual,” Cash says vaguely, scanning the concourse as a group of elderly women wearing matching red-sequined sweaters hustle past us. I briefly imagine they’re en route to a rousing performance of the Radio City Rockettes.

Focus, I tell myself, and scan my mind for other possible sources of Cash’s stress. His brilliance has always been in fashion and design—specialties not usually rewarded by your average high school. He’s struggled with grades over the years, so I know he’s also feeling pressure about his applications—even with Izaac’s help. He’s had to work extra hard to make sure he graduates on time too, and started seeing a tutor in the fall.

“Speaking of life-ing, are you still seeing that tutor for English?” I ask.

“Delores? God, no,” he says. His tutor, Delores, is a bridge-playing friend of his septuagenarian aunt Bev. “She was delightful in a Dorothy Parker kinda way, but I decided to abandon ship on the English.”

“Oh my god, how’d that go?” I ask. Knowing Delores’s philosophy—that English is of utmost importance—I can’t imagine she took that well.

“She told me that someday my hotshot politician boyfriend isn’t going to want to explain to the press why his partner failed high school English.”

“Ouch,” I say. “Uncalled for.”

He laughs, but I’m actually angry on his behalf, because Cash needs encouragement, not a put-down, even if it was meant to be funny. Maybe he’s concerned about that remark. Does Izaac know? And how would he really feel about Cash abandoning his education?

Yesterday Izaac asked me not to tell Cash about his family stuff—said he didn’t want to stress him out. I must be missing something here. It’d be so weird if they were keeping things from each other.

“Anyway,” he says. “I’ve decided to focus on improving my skills in something far more relevant to my career…”

I wait.

“Shopping,” he says, and beneath his mustache, he breaks into a huge grin.

I laugh along because it’s clearly a joke, but I can feel the furrow in my brow as I try to process this lengthening list of concerns.

Then, before I can respond, I spot Izaac and Diya headed in our direction. They seem to be scanning the crowd, so I wave.

“They don’t see us, huh?” Cash says.