Page 24 of The Last Thing You Said

“Baked pie or cream pie? Fruit? Candy?” I slip into my waitress mode. Daniel’s pie is the best around.

“Not fruit,” he says. “It’s pie.”

“What? That’s the best kind of pie. My favorite’s strawberry rhubarb.”

“Gross. How’s the coconut cream?”

“You can’t go wrong with the coconut cream.”

Apparently Simon’s not just here for the pie, because when Patty comes over to take our order, he asks for a half rack of ribs, a bowl of wild rice soup, and a slice of coconut cream.

Simon tells me about his school—an arts magnet—and the hardware store his dad and grandfather own. “Dad wants me to take over someday, but I don’t want to be stuck at the store my whole life, you know what I mean?”

I nod. I do know what he means.

Mom brings over our order herself. “Simon, so wonderful to see you. And how nice that you and Lucy are having dinner together. Enjoy your meal. Compliments of the house.” She winks at me. I roll my eyes.

I got a slice of Loonberry pie, a crazy mix of whatever berries Daniel has on hand with a crumble topping and a scoop of homemade vanilla ice cream. I watch Simon eat, half listen to him ramble on about the graphic novel he’s writing. He’s artistic like his mom.

And when I’m not watching Simon, I watch Ben. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, scowls, and taps on the screen with one thumb. He puts it facedown next to his plate and scrubs a hand over his face.

Was it a text from Guthrie? His mom? Dana?

I look away, press my fork into the last bits of berry on my plate.

Simon twists around in Ben’s direction.

“Why do you keep looking back there? Do you know that guy at the counter or something?”

I nod. “Sort of.”

“Just sort of?”

“Yeah, I know him. I guess you could say that we used to be friends.”

“Used to be.” It’s not a question. He turns back around to get another look at Ben. “Old boyfriend?”

“No.”

“You have a crush on him or something?”

“No,” I say, probably too quickly, because Simon nods his head like he knows some big secret.

“Hey, that’s the guy from the picture, isn’t it? The one from your mantel? I totally get it now.”

“No, I don’t think you do.” My words are sharp.

“Well, why don’t you fill me in?”

I pause. Why should I tell him my problems?

“Come on, Lucy, don’t be like that. You’re the only person I know up here.” He smiles, and his whole face lights up under all that shaggy hair.

With Ben sitting across the restaurant, it’s hard to tell if I could like Simon. But he’s nice. And cute. And he’s sitting right here, eating a slice of coconut cream pie. No time like the present, Hannah would say.

“His name is Ben,” I say in a low voice. “We used to be friends. I mean, his sister was my best friend, and then—well, Ben and I aren’t friends anymore. He’s—I don’t know—we don’t talk anymore.”

“That’s it?”