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Would making our relationship public take me back to last summer all over again?
How many more chances would I have if I screwed up this season?
And if I didn’t screw up, if we won the whole thing, what then? Eliza’s family would pack up and move to who knows where. I’d go back home. Would we try the long-distance thing?
Since Ben wasn’t around anymore and wouldn’t have wanted to hear me vent about all of this anyway, I took a long walk with Mickey through the cornfields and talked to him. Dogs were the best listeners for stuff like this. They didn’t judge you or interrupt your ranting. By the time we reached the end of the South Five, my gut told me to fight for what I wanted. To do the honorable thing. It’s what Dad would do.
Saturday afternoon brought humid heat under a cloudy sky. I parked on Main Street and walked the rest of the way, eventually making it down the Crowleys’ long driveway. Classic rock blasted from the garage, where TJ sat facing his bike near a box of tools. Eliza’s Jeep sat nearby next to her BMW. I still couldn’t believe she had two cars. What a waste to have one sitting there most of the year. Unused.
No sooner had I reached their fancy flagstone walkway than the front door opened. Eliza stepped out onto the porch in a pair of ripped jeans and a fitted The Goonies T-shirt. Her smile hit me like a hammer to the gut, and heat rose up the back of my neck. Any second thoughts I had earlier about doing this melted away faster than Nana’s pudding pops on a hot day.
Christ, this girl was something else.
“Thanks for being here.” She skipped down the steps and took my hand.
“Of course.” I fought the urge to kiss her in plain sight of TJ and who knows who else.
One step at a time, Reed.
“Dad’s inside.” She sucked in a deep breath. “You ready?”
Is anyone ever ready for this kind of thing? I swallowed hard. “Yeah, let’s do this.”
As we started walking back up the front porch steps, Mr. Crowley met us at the doorway. He had a pencil stuck behind his ear, and his hair was damp and messy, the way mine looked after a shower.
“Eliza.” His gaze traveled from Eliza to me and then back to her before moving slowly down to our joined hands. “What’s…going on here?”
Her hand started sweating in mine. I squeezed it to remind her I wasn’t going anywhere.
“Daddy, I’d like to invite Reed to the Founder’s Day Tea party tomorrow.” Her voice squeaked with the last word.
“Is that so?” Mr. Crowley moved forward and descended a couple of steps before stopping. “And when did this”—he pulled the pencil out from behind his ear and pointed to the two of us and then to our hands—“begin, exactly?”
At the carnival, when we almost broke a wall in the house of mirrors while having the hottest make-out session. “A few weeks ago.” I stood up straighter. “With your permission, sir, I’d, um, like to come with Eliza to your party.” My stomach knotted, but my chest felt lighter at the same time.
No turning back now.
“Doesn’t this seem a little silly?” he asked.
My shoulders tensed. “Why would it be—”
“You’re only here for the summer, Reed.” Mr. Crowley walked down the rest of the stairs and stood next to me, now of equal height. He looked at Eliza. “What happens after that?”
The doubt came back like a slushie sliding down my throat.
“We’ll figure that out at the end of the summer.” Eliza squeezed my hand and smiled up at me.
“Exactly.” I smiled back at her, but a tiny part of me wished she had said, Long distance. Haven’t you heard of it?
Mr. Crowley tucked the pencil back behind his ear and crossed his arms. “Do you have something dressy-casual to wear, Mr. Fulton?”
What the hell is dressy-casual? A tie over a T-shirt?
“I’ll make sure he does, Dad,” Eliza said.
He pursed his lips. “Then I guess we’ll see you tomorrow. Eleven thirty.”
Eliza let go of my hand, wrapped her arms around her dad’s neck, and said, “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” while he stared at me with laser eyes over her small shoulders. She then turned back to me. “Come on, I’ll take you shopping for a new shirt. And a new battery for your broken watch.”
