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I file that away in the ‘mysteries about Anna Romero that I want solving’ section of my brain. “What I mean is, you know how to live without the wild parties. You’ve got your brother and your business.”
She winces again at the mention of Ben, and I realize I have no idea what her business actually is. There’s something hiding there that I’m determined to figure out. A loose strand of hair falls out into her face and she pushes it up under her hat before scraping at the bottom of her tub for the last of her gelato. She has a sadness in her eyes, the kind of look girls get when they’ve been hurt.
I’ve never been a white knight type of guy. I’m no savior. I’m not going to ride in on my stallion and sweep her up into my arms. I think the idea of being saved would make her more furious, actually.
Unfortunately, all I’ve ever done is sweep women up in my tornado and deposited them somewhere else again. I’ve never been swept like Anna is sweeping me. I’ve never wanted to be so honest.
I guess that’s probably the way in. “Anyway, I know I’m lucky. I take it for granted, sure. Wouldn’t you, if you were me?”
With a wry huff, she nods. That was kind of more positive, so I continue.
“So yeah. I’m a dick. I try not to be to waitresses and staff, but the only struggling I’ve ever done is for my father’s attention.”
“Doesn’t he give you anything you ask for? Like, didn’t he give you your fortune?”
“Yeah, that’s my point.”
“I’m not following.”
I sigh. All this sitting is making me restless. All this soberness is making me way too aware of the world around me. I jump to my feet and offer her my hand. “Come on, let’s walk.”
To my delight, she takes my hand and lets me help her stand. For a moment, we linger with our hands entwined, then Anna pulls away and turns to throw her tub in the trash. I find my heart sinking in disappointment.
The park isn’t that big, and at this time of year it’s pretty dull. The grass all dies and gets covered in a sad layer of frost, the sky is always gray, and the trees are dead and bare, their branches reaching out like skeleton fingers.
“When I was young, leafless trees used to scare me,” I say to myself more than anything.
“Why?” asks Anna. Most people scoff at that kind of admission, but there’s only a warm kindness in those bright, green eyes. It’s like looking into a spring forest after winter.
“I used to think they were hands of giant skeletons coming out of the ground to get me.”
“Never realized you had such an imagination,” she says. Her boots crunch on the frozen gravel, her steps shorter than mine.
I slow down to keep pace with her. “Breaking! Joel Lockhart isn’t just a pretty face!”
“They’re cruel to you in the headlines, aren’t they?” She sips her hot chocolate, the steam washing up over her face and turning her cheeks and nose red.
“Most of it’s deserved. I do take my pants off in public pretty often.”
She giggles. “What I don’t understand is, why do you do it? Like, you can be almost fun when you’re not out of your mind drunk or whatever.”
“Is that another compliment?”
Ignoring me with a glare, she finishes her thought. “But all I ever see in the news is you acting stupid. You could be a real force for good if you tried.”
“Now you sound like my mother,” I say bitterly, feeling like a bucket of cold water has been poured over me. I’ve heard those exact words from Mom. From Dad too. They never stop.
“I hate to say this, but have you ever thought that maybe she’s right?”
Before I can stop myself and think of something more evasive or smart to say, the truth slips out. “Of course she’s right. But how else am I meant to get them to notice me if I’m not making the headlines for being wild, stupid Joel, off doing another one of those stupid things he does to try and be funny?”
“Oh,” is all Anna says like she understands. Another unfamiliar feeling bubbles through my blood — anger. How can she possibly understand what it’s like to have to act the fool to try and get your family’s attention? I’ve heard the way Ben talks about her. He loves her so much. I wish I had that.
We walk in silence for a bit, the icy wind biting the back of my neck and slicing through our easygoing atmosphere. I kick myself for ruining it. She’s like the only person who’s ever bothered to get to know me, and now I’ve gone and pushed her away.
The pigeons from earlier land in scatters along the path, back to pecking for worms or bugs or whatever it is they actually eat. I wonder if Anna is thinking about them like I am. I wonder if she’s trying to figure out how to break the awkwardness again too.
“This is fun,” I say, my voice sounding forced. Formal, even.
