Page 30 of Don’t Be A Stranger

My shoulders fall. Her understanding takes a weight off my chest.

Summer brushes her hair behind her ears and straightens out her back. The finality of the situation cuts deeper than I thought.

“I just think my head’s a little fuzzy from the alcohol.” Summer tries her best to smile but I know better. And I also decide against calling her out on it tonight. I’m not exactly telling the truth either. “You’re right, anyway. You and me? That’d be one shit-show.”

I know I should agree with her but her coming to her senses and realizing all of this eats away at me a little bit. But it’s nothing I can’t handle. I’ve shoved my feelings down for her since we were ten years old. Right now shouldn’t be any different.

“Hey, Summer?” I nudge her leg with mine, knowing that this is probably going to be one of the last times I allow myself to touch her in any way. Just to be safe.

She now has no problem meeting my gaze and…there. There are those gorgeous eyes and the soft way her eyebrows crinkle when she’s listening.

For a beat, we’re both silent. Life continues around us. The honking of cars outside continues. The sharp musky smell of the leaking kitchen faucet my landlord hasn’t bothered to fix hangs in the air. My shirt is still damp and Summer is still all kinds of perfect, but unlike my clothes, I can’t change my feelings for her for something else. All I can do is accept the facts. And the fact of the matter is that I can’t have Summer the way that I want.

She shifts closer and I can’t help but do the same, like even though our mouths say one thing, our bodies are still awfully aware of the other.

“Best friends?” I gently ask.

Her smile is soft in a way I’ve only ever witnessed in this kind of lighting. The question hangs in the air like it did when we were in fifth grade.

I hold out my hand, palm flat. Waiting.

Summer’s eyes linger on me for just a moment before her palm meets mine. And once we’ve lightly given each other a high five, we pull away just to bump our fists. Our knuckles hit with a soft thud.

“Yeah, River.” She nods and swallows like what she’s about to say next hurts. “Best friends.”

And I can’t lie to myself and say it doesn’t hurt me either.

Eleven

Summer

Me: I’m running away and marrying Shah Rukh Khan

Papi: Sure you are, Mija. Just invite me to the wedding okay?

River is an absolute jerk.

After our kiss last night, which was followed by a talk, I was convinced that he was right. That for once River was making sense. But now I’m lying in River’s bed, curled up under his sheets because they hold his scent, and I’m watching one of my favorite Bollywood movies, Kuch Kuch Hota Hai.

Rahul is running toward the train that his best friend, Anjali, is on—standing in the vestibule.

Hey Anjali? I’ll miss you, my dear.

I’ll miss you too.

Screw this movie and screw River.

I mean, not that he’ll even let me.

“No, I’m the one who should be sorry, Pretty Girl.”

“I don’t want to ruin anything.”

Who does he think he is calling me that? Kissing me that way? Then telling me he doesn’t want to ruin anything? I want to rip his head off yet I want to bury my face in his neck all at the same time.

I try to focus back on the screen but it’s hard. Honestly, I’d rather be hung from the roof by my toenails. Because why does Rahul still get Anjali after choosing Tina?

Anjali still chose Rahul. Still loved him after everything. If they can go through something like that and still come back to each other, then couldn’t River and I do the same thing?