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My smile turns rigid. “See you tomorrow, Peapod.”
I head for the food area to grab a hotdog, but after the third child under five cries at the sight of my face, I give up and veer for the parking lot. I have plenty to eat at home and more importantly, I have plans to make.
Like what to cook Celeste for dinner tomorrow and how I’m going to convince her to let me back into her life.
14
Zoey answers her front door on the first knock, a glass of lemonade stalled near her chin. “Are you really wearing that?” she blurts.
I walk past her into the living room, toss my purse on the coffee table, and flop onto a deep-cushioned couch. “This isn’t a date,” I remind her for the fortieth time. “I was railroaded.”
The front door closes, and Zoey rounds the couch. Brown eyes shimmering with concern, she perches beside me.
“What’s going on?”
I’ve been in a funk all day, cycling from uncomfortable anticipation to dread at the notion of eating dinner with Lucas. Plus, I only got to see Damien for less than an hour when he stopped at home to pack a bag. He was beyond excited to head to my parents, where three of his friends are meeting him for a night of pizza and gaming on my dad’s ginormous flatscreen.
“I don’t want to do this,” I say, wincing when the words come out in a whine.
Zoey clears her throat. “If this isn’t a date, then why are you acting the same way you do before every date you go on, like someone’s walking you to a guillotine?”
I glare. “You suck.”
She offers an apologetic smile. “Just try to enjoy yourself tonight, okay? Not a date. Just two old friends catching up.”
My brain offers me a flashback to Lucas’s long fingers sliding into my hair. The look in his eyes. I squirm on the couch, anxiety pinching my ribs tight.
My voice emerges strained. “I think he has the misguided idea that I’ve harbored feelings for him all these years. He’s stuck in a past that never happened. I don’t want to hurt him.”
I don’t want him to hurt me again.
Zoey doesn’t say anything for a beat, my unspoken truth hanging between us. At length, she murmurs, “That’s called future-tripping. We don’t know what’s going on in Lucas’s head.”
I sigh and haul myself to standing. “You’re right. I’m overthinking it as usual.” I walk to the beautifully framed front windows of Rose House, the Victorian Zoey’s aunt left her. “I still can’t believe he’s renting the place across the street.”
Zoey joins me at the window, frowning at the modern mansion crouched behind trees. “I miss the old neighborhood sometimes, when the houses were actually occupied by families instead of vacant half the year.” She sighs. “At least they didn’t cut down all the trees on the property when they rebuilt. I hate seeing that.”
“Yeah, me too.”
She squeezes my clammy hand. “On a positive note, you can pop over here if you need to escape.”
I smile halfheartedly. “Leave the front door unlocked.”
“You got it. I already told Ethan and Daphne you might be stopping by later.”
I stall for a few more minutes, using the bathroom and pretending it doesn’t bother me that I left the house without makeup, in jeans, sneakers, and an ancient T-shirt and even more decrepit sweater. Before I crumble and ask if I can borrow some clothes, I grab my purse and say goodbye to Zoey.
The walk across the street isn’t nearly long enough to quiet my nerves. Staring at the buzzer beside the front door, I even consider bailing.
“Don’t even think about it.”
I spin, my hand flying to my throat. About fifteen feet away, Lucas smiles at me from his seat on a wrought iron bench between trees.
“What are you doing out here?” I bleat.
He shrugs. “Waiting.”
Standing, he brushes pine needles from his pants, then strolls toward me. For a few seconds, I’m dumbstruck. I suddenly can’t remember the gangly youth with slightly crooked bottom teeth and a lopsided grin. The boy who emptied an entire can of shaving cream in my backpack. Who I watched a hundred sunsets with from my roof, our sunburned knees touching.
