Page 78 of Saints & Sailors

Our hands lowered to the ground and he didn’t let go.

This was new for me; friend or not, I’d never held hands with a boy before. Kevin hadn’t been the affectionate type in that regard. Soft. Soft wasn’t Kevin’s demeanor. He was a more go-with-the-flow type of guy. Flowers, candy, and all that romantic stuff wasn’t his vibe.

I decided that all that cheesy shit I once wrote off as vomit-inducing and lame, actually wasn’t. It was probably really nice and endearing to be showered with affection and gifts. To have a guy give you a teddy bear. Cliché to some, but still, the idea sounded sweet suddenly.

The image of my parents in that booth came to mind and a weird fluttering erupted in my belly. I bet Scott was really sweet to my mother. Soft. Before the poison of my grandfather’s words drove him away.

Fleetwood Mac continued on in the background against my random thoughts, and I definitely could love this band.

Curiously, I wondered if Scott knew them, and if he liked them, too.

But of course he did. One thing I admired about Scott was his apparent love for music. I didn’t know much about him, but at least I knew my father was cool.

Gently, Dreux’s thumb rubbed the skin on the back of my hand. A new sound was playing, a younger artist stealthily mixed in with Fleetwood. A man was singing, talking about stepping into the light, and not going back.

“Who’s this now?” I asked.

Dreux’s eyes were closed. “Harry Styles.”

Instantly, my face twisted up. “You mock me, but you listen to Harry Styles?”

“Not drawing the connection,” Dreux said matter-of-factly.

He had to be kidding. “Oh come on!”

“So you don’t like this song?” Dreux questioned.

I couldn’t outright say that. “No, it’s good.”

“So let’s circle back to that point you were trying to make.” He angled his head, peeking one eye open at me, waiting, it seemed, for a response.

A stupid smile captured my face and I hated myself for laughing. For feeling bubbly. Free. Happy. All because of this boy.

Dreux let my hand go to grab his phone. He scrolled through it and found another song by Harry. This one was atmospheric and bluesy.

I got closer and laid my head on his chest, taking in the song. It was official, I liked Dreux’s taste.

Soft.

Pink.

Dreux St. Julien was completely out of the box.

“Thank you, for being nice to me, even when I didn’t deserve it,” I said. “I was real nasty to you when I got here, taking out all my issues on you for no reason. I’m sorry.”

“I mean, as long as you acknowledge that and you don’t do it again, it’s fine. We’re good now, right? Friends?”

“Yeah.”

Things were fine, well, almost.

“Marcel?”

Her voice shot through the air, startling us. Angela was on the roof, standing in the doorway behind us, her eyes on the scene we were in.

Dreux sat up and gathered his phone, pausing Harry before standing and facing his mother. He answered to what was possibly his middle name. “Yeah?”

She didn’t look pleased, but then, when did she ever? “I need your help carrying in this new chair we ordered.”