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I shrug. “I’ve got some time to kill before Blue Coral snags me for a busy afternoon.”
Jonah smiles. “Good.”
Skip sets down his glass of milk. “So what about your friend you’re here with?”
Jonah snorts. “Oh, I am most definitely not waiting on that guy. Rico’s got his own plans, he’s made that clear enough.” He scoops up his last bite of eggs, then sighs as he chews. “Seriously, these are really great.”
“Thanks,” say Skipper and my mom in unison. I wasn’t aware my mom was paying attention to the conversation at all until now.
I face her. “Looks like big bro’s a no-show.”
“Nah,” my mom mutters, poking at her plate with her fork and managing finally to gather up a bite. “He’s just late as usual, y’know how he is.”
“You have too much faith in him.”
“And you have none.”
“If you’re lucky, he’ll be eating these eggs for dinner.”
“Like I said: late.”
I’m about to say something else when suddenly I feel Jonah’s hand covering mine. I turn to him, startled. His eyes turn soft, and all my anger dissipates at once.
It’s scary, how comfortable I’ve gotten with him in such a short time.
Something deep inside of me panics.
I’ve been here before. I’ve felt this before. I’ve known this happy feeling before, this hope, this joy, this comfort. The way it saves me. The way it satisfies me. The way it seems to blossom beautifully overnight like some kind of freaky flower with magic powers.
And I’ve felt it fade to nothing overnight, too.
Gone the moment the weekend’s done.
Over.
Before I know it, my brother’s cleaning off the table and my mom’s passed out on the couch, sleeping off whatever she couldn’t manage to sleep off last night, I guess. Jonah and I say goodbye to Skipper, then head out. It’s crazy sunny outside—a perfect Sunday—yet I feel like a dark cloud hangs over me.
“I think I figured it out,” says Jonah.
We made it to an empty cabana on the very edge of the beach, right by the dock leading off from Desert Moon Diner where we ate last night. It’s secluded, barely anyone is around, and we’re cuddled up in the shade.
I face him. “Figured what out?”
“What I’m running away from. Remember? You were insisting the night of the bonfire that I came here to get away from something, and none of my answers were good enough. Well, I figured out one that is.”
“So what is it?”
Jonah lifts one of his hands in a demonstrative way, presenting his answer like it’s on a platter:
“Clothing.”
I squint skeptically at him. “Clothing?”
“You heard me right. Clothing. And you know what? I never wanted to work at a designer clothing store. I just have a knack for it, I guess. I don’t care if the pay is great. I don’t care about the hot models on the ads or the stupid discounts I barely use anyway.”
So he’s running away from clothes. And I’m running away from … what? “But it’s your job, right?”
“Yeah. And you might argue my answer is a form of ‘getting away from work’ … but it runs deeper than that. Do you know why I work at that clothing store? I’ll give you a hint. His name is Rico.”
I know that was a punch line. I should laugh. But this fucking dark cloud over me … “Seems like that friend of yours has had a lot of influence over your life.”
“He has. Especially in the past. But we’re out of school now. We’re not boys anymore talking shit about our exes, planning slumber parties, and scrolling through old photos on social media making fun of our bad haircuts. We’re adults. We’re out in the real world and …” He laughs. “And I think I’m realizing how darkly fitting my day job is to the situation I’m stuck in. The pretentiousness. The things Rico always said as we grew up, things he insisted have value, like what you wear, who your friends are, what your pics look like when you post them online, how amazing your life seems to be. But why do we work so hard to seem a certain way? Doesn’t it matter how we really are?”
How we really are …
Jonah shrugs at his own questions. “Maybe I just see the way Rico is and … at one point in my life, it was enough just to satisfy him. Wear the cool clothes. Do the cool stuff. Have the cool friends.” He shakes his head. “I think I lost myself along the way.”
I chase an instinct and put a hand through his hair. He turns to me. “You don’t look lost to me.”
A smile teases its way onto his sexy lips. “Not when I’m here, for sure.” He winces suddenly. “I probably sound like I’m making some huge statement against the fashion industry and social media, huh?”
