Page 37 of Pining for You

“Not again,” Diya says, and throws her hands up.

“Oh, Cash,” I groan, and when he says nothing, I put a hand on his shoulder and add, “I don’t mean to pile on, buddy, but should we be concerned about a repeat performance?”

This is not our first rodeo when it comes to Cash prioritizing fashion over function. Two years ago when we took a road trip to the Big E—a sprawling New England county fair—he wore a pair of cowboy boots he insisted were made for the occasion. But what he didn’t tell us until we were halfway through our thirty thousand steps was that they were cutting into his heels. It was so bad that we had to get one of those little motorized scooters to get him through the rest of the day. Naomi called him “Scoots” for a month when she heard the story.

“I blame myself,” Izaac says. “I should have inspected your entire outfit.”

“Come on, I’m having such a PHD today,” Cash argues with a bit of a whine. “I needed footwear that could live up!”

“PHD?” Diya asks me under her breath.

“Perfect Hair Day,” I say back.

I get it, sort of. Cash has never exactly fit in. Between the farm and Ripton High he doesn’t have many chances to show off.

“I can’t right now.” Izaac rubs his temples.

“Come on, let the man have a moment with his boots,” I say in an attempt to defend Cash.

But Diya starts in on a lecture. This boot offense violates her laws about interacting with nature, and she has less than zero patience for that.

“Have you learned nothing working on a farm? You do not break in shoes when you’re not close to home. Blisters equal death.”

“Death is a touch dramatic, mayhaps, but point taken,” Cash tells her. “I’m fine, y’all.”

“You’re going to have to inform us if it gets bad,” Izaac says, his voice strained. “And even then, I can’t promise we won’t abandon your stylish ass.”

They turn together in disapproval and start to walk away ahead of us, while Cash lowers his voice to say only to me, “They begged to come, B. I couldn’t say no—just look at them.”

“I know, buddy,” I say. I can’t help but smile, and I flip my camera on his feet. “Okay, run those moves back for me.”

“It’s right up here,” Izaac announces when we turn off a brownstone-lined street, and onto a more commercial one. He points to a string of buildings with retail on the street level. There’s a dry cleaner, a deli, a Greek restaurant, another dry cleaner (now my offer to launder Eve’s coat seems very unnecessary), and finally—as promised—a pizzeria. “We had the most killer pizza here together last fall,” he says. “I can’t wait for you guys to try it.”

His mood has improved since Bootgate. He may be nervous about surprising Audra, but he seems pretty stoked to share some Brooklyn knowledge with us for now.

There are multicolored strings of lights around the windows, the entrance, and the fire escape that zigzags up the front of the building. It sparkles absolutely everywhere.

Izaac steps up to the door, where there’s a box with last names handwritten in little windows next to buttons, but when I look, I don’t see Audra Evans on any of them.

“Where’s your sister’s name?” I ask.

“Eh, it’s probably under her roommate,” Izaac says, but he looks a little unsure to me.

He presses the button, and as we wait, I look at the sky, which is starting to seem a little threatening. I wonder if New York weather is as unpredictable as New England’s.

As the silence extends, Izaac taps his foot. Then he buzzes again.

“More vegetation?” I ask Diya, who is taking a serious interest in some sidewalk plants. “Quite the horticultural gold mine, this Brooklyn. Don’t you concur?”

She squints up at me skeptically.

“Bosley, what are you rambling about?”

“Just saying! I find it fascinating… So much to explore here. It could keep one very occupied for four years or so.”

She ignores me this time, so I turn to Cash for backup but he is fiddling with his phone yet again. I’m tempted to throw the thing in the sewer. I love the guy but it’s just like our traditions—it’s been so hard to keep us together and present. It’s surprising coming from a dude who used to make us all put our phones in a basket at Pag’s. (“It ruins a good look,” he always said.)

I turn away and shiver, willing Audra to open up soon, because it is cold. Very, very cold. It makes me miss our cozy living room and Marley back home. But then I frown. Did Naomi even notice Marley before she went to work? That question ruins the scene, so while Izaac buzzes again, I focus on filming what’s in front of me.