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“Everything okay?” Josh asks, standing in front of me.
I nod and point to my bag he’s holding, my head tilting in confusion.
“So your grams kicked us out.”
“What?” I mouth.
“Yeah. She said it was dumb that we be in there when nothing was actually happening and then she started to get riled up. Started yelling at me because I was spending my time off hanging in a hospital room when I should be with my girlfriend”—he points to me—“showing her a good time.”
My jaw drops.
His laughter reaches his eyes. “Yeah. I don’t think she meant good time the way we’re probably thinking…”
“So what are we supposed to do?” Cordy asks for me.
He shrugs before handing me my stuff. “I guess we leave. Come back first thing tomorrow?”
* * *
A few months ago, Grams told me that Josh signed a huge sponsorship deal with Oakley sunglasses. She suspected it was seven figures, but she would never ask. Anyway, as soon as the contract was signed and the money was his, he paid off his parents’ mortgage and went into partnership with his uncle Robby to expand the construction business. He also donated a bunch of money to Grams’s church, breast cancer research, as well as the American Liver Foundation. It was also around the same time Say Something got a huge anonymous donation. So, with knowing all that, it doesn’t at all surprise me he’s still driving around in the same truck he had pre-pro-skater Josh. Nor does it surprise me that he still lives in Grams’s garage apartment. “So my mom’s at my house with Tommy. She’s cooking dinner. She says she wants to meet you.” He glances at me quickly, looking for a response before focusing on the road again. “You don’t have to,” he rushes out. “It’s cool if you just want to be alone.”
I’ve met his mom. She knows I’ve met her. She also knows I asked her never to tell Josh about it. I appreciate her keeping her word, but that’s not what has my breath caught in my throat and my thumbs frozen, hovering above my phone. She’s with Tommy—my best friend.
“Becs?” He pulls the car over and kills the engine, then turns to me. “You okay?”
My breaths are harsh, my chest rising and falling.
Josh sighs. “Look. I know last time you were here I said some stuff about Tommy—”
He doesn’t get a chance to finish because I throw my arms around his neck, my excitement overpowering every other emotion.
“Becca,” he whispers, hands on my arms pulling me off of him. He sits up straighter, his gaze on mine while I try to push back the disappointment. Then he clears his throat, his voice louder when he says, “I um… I’ve wanted to say something ever since you got here last night and I just… I haven’t found the right time but the truth is, I’m struggling here, Becs. It’s hard being this close to you when all I want to do is touch you. Honestly, I want to do more than touch you. Every time I look at you, all I can think about is kissing you and—” He breaks off when my eyes widen, throwing his hand up between us. “Don’t worry. I won’t. I just… I want to. I spent the entire night watching you sleep, letting my mind get lost in the memories of what we used to be and it felt so good to be back there again. Almost too good. And then morning hit, and so did reality, and now it almost hurts to be with you. So I’ve spent most of the day trying to stay away, trying to make it easier to the fight the urges. But it’s tough. Real tough. Especially when you’re looking at me the way you are….” I don’t think I’m looking at him like anything, so I shake my head, but he ignores it and starts the engine again. “We should go.”
He focuses on the road and nothing but the road for the rest of the drive home while I sit there, completely unfocused, lost in the daze of his declaration. It’s not until we near the house and I see Tommy and Josh’s mom, Ella, out in the driveway, Tommy messing around on a skateboard while his grandmother watches over him, that I snap out of my daze. The second we pull up, Tommy jumps off the board and runs toward us, ignoring his grandmother’s demands for him to stop. Josh hits the breaks, forcing me forward, his reflexes quick, his arm shooting to the side to protect me. “Sorry,” he murmurs.
“It’s okay,” I mouth, unable to control my smile when I see Tommy at my door. His hands are frantic as he tries again and again to open it, but the truck is big—too big for him to pull on the handle, so I unbuckle my seat belt and open the door slowly, giving him enough time to move away. He screams—one I’m sure would match mine if I actually could scream. Then he says the words that settle the ache in my chest, but create a fear in my mind. “Becca’s home!”
