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Simone smiles and heads back into the hallway. I finish setting up paper at each easel and drink my smoothie.
My phone buzzes with a message as I’m gathering paintbrushes. My stomach flips when I see the name on the screen.
Liam:Hey. Did I leave my sweatshirt at your place?
I stand, five paintbrushes in one hand and my phone in the other, as I debate whether to respond right away. What to say. Both considerations come with a concerning confirmation: Icare.
Middle school was the last time I gave any thought to what a guy might think. I like when they chase, and the best way to ensure that happens is acting like you don’t want them to. The problem with Liam is I know if he thinks I’m uninterested, that will be that.
I should be fine with us ending. We had sex and swapped some secrets.
Fine.
He’s a guy from Glenmont. He goes to a different college. He’s serious and intense and focused on football. There are lots of reasons why our hookup last week should be the last.
Except, I’ve been disappointed, each day that has gone by without a message from him. Especially when I found his sweatshirt beneath the pile of blankets on my balcony.
I set my phone down. Pick it up. Chew on my lower lip.
Natalie:Yeah, you did. I’ve been meaning to text you.
I wait and stare, but there’s no response.
I shut my phone off, stick it in my bag, and finish setting everything up. Then I sit and sketch until it’s time to start the class.
Glenmont looks the same as the last time I was here—nearly two years ago. That trip was on a bus behind rows of burly football players. As a general rule, that’s the only time anyone from Alleghany enters Glenmont—when they have to.
But here I am, and it hasn’t changed.
A comforting and constricting reality about small towns, I guess. They never really do.
I glance at the GPS, gauging the distance until the next turn. I’ve been to Glenmont before, but I’ve never been to its country club.
Country club conjures images of immaculate landscapes and a building with columns—at least in my mind. The parking lot I pull into isn’t located near any of that. There’s a long, squat building straight ahead. It’s not falling down, but it’s not ritzy either. No arch above the entrance or expensive planters. The grass of the golf course stretches in the distance, sporting a few patches of brown.
I park, grab my keys and bag, then climb out of my car. I walk along the side of the building and around back.
The place is dead. I don’t encounter anyone until I reach the fence that surrounds the pool. Liam is crouched at the side of the pool, scooping some of the aquamarine water into a vial and capping it before standing.
I push the gate, and it opens with a faint squeak Liam somehow hears.
He turns and freezes.
“Hey.” I wave.Wave.
The left corner of his mouth lifts at the lame gesture. “Hey.”
I glance around at the empty pool deck and lounge chairs. “Slow day?”
“Pool closes early on Thursdays for cleaning. We’re busiest on the weekends.”
“Right. That makes sense.”
Liam rubs the back of his neck, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “I was actually just about to head out…”
“Oh. Yeah. I was just dropping off this.” I open my tote and pull out his sweatshirt, stepping forward and holding it out to him. “Here you go.”
“You didn’t need to bring it all the way here,” Liam says, taking the balled fabric from me.
