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“I couldn’t really see. He wore a Hawaiian print shirt, though. I do remember that.”
A Hawaiian printed shirt. Saturday, at Wallflower, that was what Josh had been wearing. After he dropped me off, he went on a walk with Rachel? Why wouldn’t she have said anything?
“I hope it’s okay if I email you from time to time,” Mr. Manning said, interrupting my train of thought with that sly smirk. “You can be my informant of sorts on my kids, right?”
I wasn’t sure if it was the lingering confusion of the whole Rachel and Josh thing, or the dread swamping through me about the money, but the graciousness I’d been carefully holding in place for all of our interactions cracked. “No.”
It wasn’t what he’d been expecting. “No?”
“I don’t think they’d like it if I talked to you about them.” It was what I should’ve said from the beginning, because even though Rachel and I were technically fighting—even if she pretended that we weren’t—she was my best friend. “I think…maybe you should be the one reaching out to ask.”
“Well, what about just Reed?” He leaned across the table. “Can you tell me a little about him? I’ve tried reaching out to him, but we haven’t spoken since—well, everything.”
There’s a reason for that, I wanted to say, a protective urge swelling up. The door to the coffeeshop chimed as a stream of people filtered in, and along with them came a soft chattering of their voices. “Mr. Manning,” I began, ready to lay it all out. I wasn’t going to be his spy anymore. If he wanted to know about them, he’d have to work on mending the relationship—and respecting their wishes. How I was going to manage to say that nicely, though, I had no clue.
In the end, it didn’t matter. When I raised my head from the envelope in my hand, my gaze snagged on the group of high schoolers that walked in, all sporting Brentwood’s signature colors.
The first face I recognized was Cindy’s, with her gorgeous hair and spirited Bobcat apparel. And then I looked past her by a few inches, landing on Reed Manning.
I jerked my head down, fanning my hair across my face in a reflex I couldn’t fight.Please, I begged, and in that split second, my heart jumpstarted into a race it could never win.Please, please.
Mr. Manning’s voice dashed any trace of hope. “Oh—Reed, is that you?”
If I didn’t open my eyes, I could’ve pretended everything was okay. I wasn’t sitting across from Mr. Manning anymore, with Reed no doubt already looking at us with widening eyes. I could pretend that he wasn’t with Cindy right now, that this wasn’t about to go down with an audience. I could pretend that Reed couldn’t recognize me, despite my pink hair being a beacon ofAva Jenson.
But that bubble of bliss only floated around for a moment before it popped.
“Ava?”
I slowly moved my palm away from my eyes to reveal Reed.
In the past few weeks, I’d seen a side of Reed I’d never noticed before. The vulnerable side. The softness behind the player exterior he always flaunted. The fears behind what drove his actions. I’d learned more about him in these weeks than I did in all the years I’d known him.
Which was why I knew, from the tightness in his brown eyes, that I’d royally screwed up.
Reed looked at me and only me, as if I sat at the window table all alone, but Mr. Manning wasn’t going to give up in gaining Reed’s attention. “How have you been, son? My God, look at you. It’s crazy how much older you look in just a year.”
I watched as Reed took in the iced hot chocolate in my hand, the one that was growing increasingly slick from the condensation pooling on the plastic. He then looked at my laptop, closed in front of me, finally settling on the envelope withAvascripted in thick black ink. “Reed,” I began, but his name didn’t get further than a soft whisper past my lips. I wasn’t sure he could even hear me.
Mr. Manning got to his feet, chair scraping on the tiled floor. The people Reed came in with—which, upon a closer look, was Landon, his girlfriend—all went up to the counter to order except for Cindy. She lingered behind Reed, shifting uncertainly. “Is this your girlfriend?” Reed’s father asked. “I’m Reed’s dad. It’s nice to meet you…”
“Cindy,” she offered, leaning around the wall of muscle in front of her to offer her hand. “We’re going to homecoming together.”
The way Mr. Manning laughed, with total lack of awareness of the situation, made my skin crawl. “Nice to meet you, nice to meet you. I see you don’t have a jersey on, Reed. So, it’s true? You quit the football team?”
It was the taboo subject that never failed to cause Reed to falter. Reed’s expression darkened, the way the sky dimmed once the sun dipped underneath the horizon. It left the atmosphere several degrees cooler.
“Ava,” Reed said, looking straight at me. “Can I talk to you outside?”
There was nothing else to do but to gather my things and follow Reed out the chiming door, not letting my eyes stray to either Mr. Manning or Cindy.
As soon as we got out onto the sidewalk, Reed grabbed my wrist and pulled me away from the coffeeshop, away from any prying eyes peering out the windows. I went with him willingly, clutching my laptop bag to my chest.Think. There has to be something you can say to diffuse this situation.
But when Reed ducked into a narrow alleyway, turning toward me, all of the possible excuses slipped through my fingers like water.
“Why were you with him?” he demanded, the intensity in his eyes enough to turn anyone to stone. “Why were yougetting coffeewith him?”
“I wasn’tgetting coffee.” I mimicked his emphasis despite the desire to deescalate things. My whole being swelled with the confrontation in his voice, throwing up the defense. “We were just…talking about things.”
