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Me: Hmm. I disagree.
Lennon: What?
Me: You did plenty to inspire me.
Lennon: Ugh.
Me: Anyway, thanks for talking to me. I don't know that it helped, but it was nice to talk to you again.
Lennon: Yeah, it was kinda nice to talk to you too.
Me: So, if I wanted to talk to you again sometime, you'd be cool with it?
Lennon: Yes.
Me: And maybe, if I’m on my best behavior, I could see you again?
Lennon: We'll see.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Lennon
By the laws of popularity, Tarryn and I were never supposed to be friends.
From the moment she had walked into that preschool classroom, she’d owned the place with sparkly high-tops, a bright pink scrunchie, and enough smart-witted charisma to keep our teacher’s head spinning. Meanwhile, I was the quiet one in a hand-me-down Mickey Mouse T-shirt, wearing sunglasses inside and wondering if anyone would ever come play blocks with me.
Tarryn did.
She walked right up to me, handed me a pencil, and announced we were best friends forever. The pencil had declared it, and that was how we’d remained for over twenty-five years.
Even now, as she ran up my parents’ driveway with a duffel bag swinging from her arm. Reminding me of days in our youth, when her mom or cousin would drop her off Friday evening and wouldn’t come back until late, late Sunday night.
“Hey, baby,” she said, throwing an arm around my neck before we could step inside. “God, I’ve missed you.”
“Hey, Tarryn,” Mom said from the couch. “There’s food in the fridge, if you’re hungry.”
She was already steering me toward the kitchen. “Mrs. J, I’m always hungry.”
“Mmhmm,” Mom grumbled, and as we passed, I caught the fond little smile on her lips.
Tarryn left me at the table as she headed toward the fridge. “Okay. Tell me everything. What have you been up to since we last talked?”
“You talked to me last night,” I reminded her, dropping into a chair.
“Yeah, but nothing has happened since then?” She opened the fridge and immediately took out the Tupperware of stew Mom had made for dinner.
I shrugged. “Not really.”
“You haven’t heard anything from your rock-star boyfriend?”
I rolled my eyes, already regretting telling her about the brief conversation I’d had with Dylan via text. “That was almost a week ago.”
“And yet I notice you didn’t say he’s not your boyfriend,” she teased, throwing a smirk over her shoulder in my direction.
“Because it goes without saying,” I replied dryly, entirely unamused.
The truth was, I’d decided even before Dylan texted me that I wouldn’t want to be in a relationship with him even if he asked. Having fun was one thing, but being in a relationship was another, and I had a feeling Dylan wasn’t the relationship type.
