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I filled two glasses with filtered water. I didn’t answer. But I highly, highly doubted it.

7

ANNA

JEREMY CAME OUT HOLDING two cups of water and a small plate of deviled eggs, stacked precariously on top of one of the glasses. “Thought you might want some of these.” He set my water on the end table next to me and handed me the plate. “Mom made them for me to bring to the hospital tomorrow for the nurses, but I know you used to like them,” he said, sitting next to me.

I smiled down at the food. “Thanks.”

Our arms and thighs were touching. Some barrier had come down during the last hour of Fuck The Patriarchy drinks with Grandma. A barrier that could only vanish this fast with someone I had history with. Like slipping back into a default setting.

God, I was buzzed.

This whole day felt like some weird fever dream.

I ate the deviled eggs and set the plate on the coffee table and leaned back into the cushion, sipping my water.

There were Todd family photos scattered on the bookshelf around the TV. Some I recognized, some I didn’t.

“Do you have any old photos of us?” I asked, looking at him. When I turned my head, our mouths were so close we were a breath away from kissing.

“Upstairs,” he said, looking at my lips.

“Can we see them?” I asked, looking at his.

“Sure,” he said distractedly.

Neither of us got up to go.

I think he wanted to kiss me. He must be as buzzed as I was—he couldn’t be thinking straight.

I sat up and gulped the rest of my water, breaking the spell.

I was not kissing anyone today. Especially him.

I was slightly intoxicated, and he was very handsome and still completely my type, and I clearly had feelings that I hadn’t unpacked like I thought I had, and kissing would be a horrible idea. So bad. Maybe I shouldn’t even be here—not that I could leave now. I was drinking, I couldn’t drive, and my family was on their way. Also, I was starving. I couldn’t handle a third failed dinner attempt.

I stood. “Show me the pictures?”

He looked at me like he wished I would sit back down. “Sure.”

I followed him up the steps to a guest room with an office in it. Photo albums were stacked on the built-in bookshelf behind the desk. He grabbed them and took a seat on the end of the bed. I sat next to him and he handed me one.

The very first page had a photo of us at eleven years old in a kiddie pool in his backyard, eating strawberry Popsicles in our bathing suits.

I smiled. “I can’t believe you knew me before I had boobs,” I said.

“The wait really paid off.”

I gave him an amused look before turning the page.

“I don’t think I knew you were a girl,” he said, leaning on his hands.

“What does that mean?”

“It means you were just Anna to me. You were my best friend. I didn’t see you like that. Until I did.”

I gazed back down at the photos. “Do you remember the first time you noticed?” I asked. “That I was a girl.”