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Maisie drew in a short breath. “We’re dating—does he really need to ask?”
Rachel and I both answered at the same time: “Yes.”
Maisie laughed, but there was something about her expression that seemed forced. “I’m fine with how it is, seriously.”
“Mom’s making Reed bring Cindy to the house for photos,” Rachel said, sensing the need for a subject change. “Well, if he mans up and actually asks her. So, if we want pictures, we should do it at one of your houses. And if Josh asks you, you have to tell me, because I’ll find a date too.”
My cell started ringing, the tone barely heard over the roar of the student section. When I pulled it out of my pocket, my dad’s cheery face from the Florida family vacation grinned at me, sunburn and all. “I’ll be right back,” I told them, hurrying to move away from the noise. The bleachers were filled to the brim, and I had toexcuse me, excuse memy way through the student section to the stairs. “Hello?”
“Hey, kiddo,” Dad greeted, and I relaxed instinctively at his warm tone. “How much longer is left to the game?”
“Only a few minutes, I think.” I stood on my tiptoes, but I couldn’t see the scoreboard from here. “Have you eaten yet?”
“I have,” he began, but the tone of his voice had me stopping my back-and-forth pacing. It’d been the same tone he’d used weeks ago when he announced he was moving out. The same tone he’d used the first time he’d postponed me coming to visit him. He probably would’ve used the same tone the second time, if he’d called me instead of texted. “Listen, Ava, why don’t we meet up tomorrow for breakfast instead of meeting tonight? I’m just feeling so tired, kiddo. I wouldn’t make good company.”
Digging the toe of my sneaker into the trampled over grass, I let my other hand dangle at my side, fingers twitching like they wanted to curl into a fist.How many times does this make?I wondered distantly, between the ramble of my father’s excuses and the football announcer in the background.How many times has he avoided seeing me?
“Ava? You there? Did I lose you?”
I let out a soft breath between my teeth. It was okay. Dad being tired was okay—I was tired too. A few minutes ago, I was envisioning the quick tour of Dad’s apartment and then falling onto whatever bed he laid out for me for the night. It’d been a long week for me—it’d probably been a long one for him, too. “Y-Yeah, tomorrow would work better for me. Maybe we could meet at the Wallflower at ten?”
“That sounds great,” he said, and if I hadn’t known any better, I would’ve thought he sounded relieved. My stomach tied up in knots. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Love you.”
“Love you too,” I said as the buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the game.
The uneasy feeling didn’t disappear even after I lowered my phone, and even though I tried, I couldn’t really placewhyI felt edgy. I checked my cell, but I had no text messages, no new Babble submissions. In the middle of the grass behind the bleachers, watching person after person shuffle toward their car, I felt lonely.
This time last week, Reed had been driving Rachel and me home from the away game. I’d given him the comic books. He’d told me about quitting the football team. And now, here I was, not sure if we’d ever talk again. Maybe that was for the best.
Who was I kidding? Itwasfor the best. Better to cut ties now before too much got ruined.
Rachel and Maisie came down from the bleachers a few minutes later, and by then, I’d managed to pull on a semblance of a nonchalant expression. If I couldn’t tell them the whole truth, no way I was going to bother them with my crap. And in that moment, I wouldn’t have been able to take it if Rachel said something about things not being as tough because someone didn’t cheat. Fake a smile and let it loose when I got home—that’s what I’d do.
We ended up parting our ways quickly, Maisie sticking around to wait for Alex, and Rachel and me heading toward her car.
“You going to tell me what’s wrong?” Rachel asked as she eased her seatbelt over her chest, starting the engine. “Because you’ve been pretty quiet tonight. You didn’t do hardly any of the cheers.”
“Just tired,” I told her, leaning my head against the seat.
The past few times I’d been in the car, Reed had been the one driving, and I’d forgotten how terrible Rachel’s driving was. She either slammed on the brakes or the gas pedal, the ride a jerky start-and-stop mingled with the hottest pop station filtering between us.
I sat quiet in the passenger’s seat, staring at the glowing dashboard, trying not to remember yesterday in this very same spot.What kiss?After that, we’d driven in silence, the kind that was choking instead of comforting.
And now, forced into the spot that I’d been hurting in yesterday, the sensation began to build again. “Can I ask you a hypothetical question?”
“Ooh, fun. Sure.”
“How do you know if you like someone or if it’s just your hormones?”
Rachel snorted. “You sound like an old lady, blaming feelings on hormones.”
“I can’t tell.”
“Wait, wait, wait.” Rachel stepped on the brakes and caused the tires to squeal in protest, jarring me forward against the seatbelt. “You’re crushing on someone?”
“It was a hypothetical,” I said, rubbing where the belt dug into my neck.
“And I’m hypothetically asking if my best friend has a crush,” she replied, foot not easing from the brake. Even in the dim lights, her eyes were two circles of excitement. “Come on, you haven’t had a proper crush on someone inages. Give me all the deets!”
