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“I’m okay,” I sign.
Henry greets mom with a wave.
She frowns at him.
I let go of my mother’s hand and follow Henry to the car. As we take off, I keep telling myself that Dare is overreacting. He’ll understand that I’m leaving with Henry for the sake of our friendship. Henry’s been with me through so much. I owe him at least a conversation.
But with every mile I go in the opposite direction, it all feels like a giant mistake.
* * *
“He was going to meet your parents. Is it that serious?” Henry signs.
We’re sitting in a familiar coffee shop. The one we visited after our last photoshoot in the Neon Room. I still remember how excited I’d been to shoot in that location. I remember the smell of drying paint, the scent of damp earth and some not-so-legal substances. I remember the odd feeling I got when Henry handed me that pair of shades and it fell apart in my hands.
It feels like it happened years ago and yesterday at the same time.
Henry’s in the seat across from me. We’ve taken up our usual positions around a booth that’s directly next to the window, letting in lots of late evening sunlight.
His ponytail is dangling over one shoulder. He seems a lot more relaxed. Eyes crinkling. A half smile on his face. The shadows under his eyes have magically disappeared.
“I just…” He swallows hard as he signs, “I didn’t think you’d introduce your parents to someone who’s paying you to date him.”
My shoulders hike all the way to my ears.
Henry notices he’s touched a nerve because he quickly backtracks. “I know you did it to protect me. I’m not judging you for faking things with him. I’m just sorry it’s become such a mess. And I promise you, Yaya, that from now on I’m going to be honest with you. All this happened because I kept denying that I have real feelings for you.”
“Henry, wait. I don’t—”
I see movement in the corner of my vision. Someone’s approaching, but she’s not dressed like a waitress and, from the smile on her face, she recognizes one of us. The intruder bounces up to our booth, her happy gait a sharp contrast to the awkwardness around the table.
She seems familiar. Something about her niggles my memory, but for the life of me I can’t place her.
Not until Henry signs, “June?”
I snap my fingers in recognition. She’s the girl who was having trouble giving her order a while back.
“It’s so good to see you,” June signs. “I’ve been wanting to meet you again.”
I faintly remember pushing her and Henry together, but her eyes are on me, not Henry. Her warm smile feels like it’s for me too. I squirm, wondering if I’d madethatgood of a first impression.
“You said we would all hang out, but we never did,” June signs. “So I’ve been coming here regularly hoping we could run into each other again.”
I have no idea what to reply to that.
“Can you excuse us?” Henry signs. He does not look amused. “We’re kind of busy.”
Her smile drips away.
I shoot Henry a scolding look. Things are tense between us, but that’s no reason to take it out on someone as sweet as June.
“Why are you being rude?” I sign.
“Ask her.” Henry points up.
June licks her lips, guilt stamped over her face.
“What does he mean, June?”
