How to Meet Boys (23 page)

“Maybe. I knew she liked him.” I hoped that Lucy and Gus were just having fun together and staying out late doing something after the kayak trip. Then again . . . what if they had run into trouble? “On the other hand, it’s been dark for a couple of hours. If they’re still on the water . . . that’s a problem.”

Ava glanced around the restaurant. “I just need to make sure my tables don’t need anything. Be right back.”

I listened to the band and texted my mom, then sent her a picture of the lead singer. She’d be happy that I was out listening to music on a Saturday night. I thought about Jackson and wondered what he was doing right now. Breaking up with him had been nearly impossible. Still, for the first time since I’d learned his name, I didn’t feel like I was being a bad friend. That had to count for something.

“Here.” Ava delivered a tall glass of lemonade to my table. “This way they can’t accuse me of stealing a table. You’re a paying customer. So what can we do? Should we try to get in touch with Gus?”

“I don’t want to interfere . . . I’d just like to know she’s okay. I was really hoping to talk with her tonight, to work things out.” I sipped the lemonade. Not that I knew what I was going to say, but I was going to try. Losing Lucy’s friendship wasn’t part of
any
scenario I had in mind.

“Speaking of being in charge. Assuming she gets back tonight . . . I think we really need to have a house meeting tomorrow,” I said. “In fact, I’m calling one. Right now.”

“We do?”

“We do,” Ava said. “I
want
to have a party next weekend. We are going to have a party. And we can’t do it when you guys are having your little feud. See that singer over there? I want to invite him. But I can’t if we don’t have this party. Back before school got out, that’s all you guys talked about: how great this summer would be, and how you were going to be so independent and have your own place and people would come over . . ”

“I know,” I said. “That was the plan. Even though things have changed, and I never imagined I’d be in this situation right now, I still want all those things. And I want all of us to have a great summer together,” I said. “That’s why I broke up with Jackson tonight. It just isn’t going to work out, and I’d rather be sad now than see Lucy miserable.”

“What? You broke up with him?” Ava asked. “But you guys—you’re really good together, it seems like.”

“I know, but . . . if it upsets Lucy that much, I have to,” I said.

“I did
not
cover breaking up in Boyfriends 101 yet. You should have talked to me about it first,” Ava said.

“It’s not funny,” I said, wiping away a tear.

“Oh, no. No, it’s not funny. I’m sorry, I was just trying to lighten things up.” Ava leaned over and gave me a hug. “So how did he take it?”

“Not that well,” I said. “But, it’s done. I guess.” I let out a long, shuddery sigh.

“Aw, that’s sad. I can’t stand it when
both
you guys are sad. Listen, I have to get back to work, but stick around for a while. I’ll be off in an hour,” Ava said, getting up to respond to a customer waving at her.

I waited for a few minutes, then got up and went outside into the cool night air. I unlocked my bike from the street sign outside the café and started riding back to the house. If I was going to cry, I wanted to do it in private.

I glanced up at the night sky, still in awe at how many stars I could see in Bridgeport. It was a clear night, so even if Lucy and Gus were still on the lake—which I couldn’t imagine—they wouldn’t be in danger of any storms.

Wherever Lucy was, I hoped she was okay. I’d done what I could do to make things right. Now it was her move.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

..................................................................

Gus and I stood on the wooden
dock outside the kayak shop in the bright morning sunshine. I felt kind of awkward, my legs a little wobbly, like I’d been on the water too long and wasn’t sure how to walk on land.

When I’d woken up that morning, Gus wasn’t lying beside me any more—he was busy getting the boats ready for our trip back across the bay. In a way, I was relieved—I wasn’t sure how to act when I woke up next to a guy without having a toothbrush around. We’d said good morning and talked a little bit about how hungry we felt, but other than that, all business. I wondered if he felt as embarrassed as I did about snuggling the night before. Nothing had happened, technically, but I’d definitely never felt that close to a guy. Ever. Ever ever ever.

Now Gus was cleaning out the boats and getting them ready to stow in the racks by the store. I helped carry them over, and then brought the paddles, life jackets, and spray skirts into the store.

We went back outside, and I wasn’t sure what came next. I picked up my backpack from the docks. “So, I should get going—I have to run to work. Thanks for a great trip. You can chop almonds well, and you can paddle through choppy water. Big points in the chop department.”

“That sounds weird,” he said.

“I am weird,” I said, kicking at a rock. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I like you anyway,” he said. “Or maybe I like you because you’re weird. Have you thought of that?” He stepped closer to me.

He’s going to kiss me
, I suddenly realized. “So, I’ll see you later,” I said, backing up toward my car. The easiest thing to do here was to just stay friends. Nothing more. Maybe the night before I’d felt differently, like I could be close to Gus, maybe even put my fears to rest and just go for it, but in the glaring light this morning I couldn’t handle it.

“Can I ask you something?” Gus said. “Didn’t something sort of happen between us last night? I mean, I thought you and I . . . we kind of had a connection.”

“We did,” I said, glancing at him and then looking away. We’d bonded over surviving on grapes and Snickers bars. We’d snuggled under a blanket. I got shivers, the good kind of shivers, thinking about it—not that I could tell Gus that.

“Why don’t we still have one?” Gus asked. “Because that was only twelve hours ago, and right now it kind of feels like you’re running away from me.”

“I guess . . . I have a hard time trusting people. After a bunch of things that have happened,” I said. “I know we get along okay. But, like, at any minute, something could change. You might not be up-front with me all the time.”

“What would I possibly be hiding from you? I tell you everything,” Gus said.

“But I don’t know that,” I said. “Do I? How could I know that?”

“Because I’m being honest—aren’t you?”

“Well . . . yeah,” I said. “Of course I am!”

“So why wouldn’t I be? I don’t have a secret life. I barely have a life, period. Wait, I shouldn’t say that out loud, should I?” Gus asked. “In case you can’t tell, I like hanging out with you. We have fun, and I . . . would like to be more. But . . . you know. If you’re not interested then I guess we shouldn’t hang out. Because it’s too awkward.”

But . . . I am interested
, I wanted to say.
I’m actually a little bit crazy about you.

He walked off toward the kayak shop, and I stood there feeling stuck. He was asking me to take a bungee jump and trust that the line wouldn’t break.

I rushed back to the cabin, showered, and changed. When I grabbed my phone, I saw several texts—apparently everyone had been wondering where I was. It wasn’t like me to just be gone. There was even a text from Mikayla, begging me to let her know I got the message and that I was okay.

I sent a group text explaining what had happened, then got to work as quickly as I could. I was rearranging and dusting the mugs when I picked up one that had an image of a sea cave on it. I thought about how Gus and I had kayaked through them, how when I was out on the water with him I felt like my summer up here was finally starting. Then I’d blown it. Making it the shortest summer on record.

Suddenly the mug slipped from my hand and it crashed to the tile floor, shattering into a dozen pieces. “Agh!” I cried. “Why do I have to ruin everything?”

“Hey. Don’t sweat it. It’s just a mug,” Jackson said, coming over to me. “I’ll get the broom. It’s no big deal.”

“It’s not the stupid mug,” I said. “It’s me! I’m such an idiot sometimes.”

“What’s going on?” asked Jackson. He crouched down with a small whisk broom and dustpan and started sweeping up the mug shards.

“What do you care?” I replied, looking down at him.

He whisked the pieces of stoneware into the dustpan. “I do care. What, do you think I’m heartless?” He walked behind the counter and dumped the mess into the trash.

“Sometimes,” I mumbled.

Jackson walked over to the store doors and put the little round red apple clock with the
I will return at . . 
message on the door. A tourist walking toward the store came to a dead stop on the sidewalk, with a confused expression.

“Listen. Just because I happened to fall for your best friend—that doesn’t make me heartless. I didn’t know she was your friend! I hardly knew anything about you anymore, considering you hadn’t talked to me in years—”

“What?
You
never spoke to
me
,” I said.

He ignored that and kept on going. “Now you and I have been getting along, but you’re still mad at me, and instead of talking about it with me—you’re taking it out on Mikayla.”

“What? No, I’m not,” I said.

“I think you are.” Jackson hoisted himself onto the counter and sat facing me.

I fiddled with the postcards, not sure what to say. I was glad he was sorry. But I had to explain why it had hurt me so much. I didn’t talk about stuff like this—not often, anyway. “It was awkward,” I said. “Really awkward. Not just because we were friends and I ruined that—”

“Maybe you didn’t,” he said. “Maybe it was just the fact we both changed schools.”

“Yeah, but—” I laughed nervously. “I tried to kiss you.”

Jackson shrugged. “So . . . yeah. You did.”

“And you couldn’t get away from me fast enough,” I said.

He grabbed the basket of magnets on the counter and started sifting through it. “I just didn’t want it to be like that. We were friends. That’s all I, like, wanted back then.”

“Yeah,” I said, “I
know
.” I laughed again. “I found that out. And you know what? I was really just acting on impulse that day. It wasn’t something I planned. It was embarrassing, sure, but I could have dealt with that. I don’t like you that way now. You know that, right?”

“Um, yeah. That’s obvious. It always has been,” he said. “You hardly like me at all.”

“I do, but the issue with you—why I couldn’t forgive you—it isn’t that dumb kiss. It’s because you humiliated me when you told everyone at school how I was in love with you, and how embarrassing it was for me because you blew me off, and how I fell apart and started crying, and wasn’t that sad—”

“What? Whoa, whoa. I never said that!” Jackson cried.

“Then what did you say?” I asked him.

“I didn’t know what to do. So I asked Owen for advice,” Jackson said, naming a friend who’d been in our group. “I didn’t want to be mean to you, and I wanted to stay friends, at least until the end of the school year when we all moved on. I wanted to know how to do that.”

“It wouldn’t have been that hard, we just would have kept our distance,” I said.

“Sure, I can see that now. Back then? I was clueless about girls. I think I told Owen you seemed kind of surprised or upset by my reaction. He made up the story from there,” Jackson said. “When I heard the rumor, I tried to change the story, but it was too late. Everyone had
his
version. He added in things like how you were crying. That
wasn’t
me.”

“Oh. Well, good.” I hadn’t seen Owen in three years. If I ever saw him again, I’d just punch him in the nose. “So can you kind of see why I hated you?”

Jackson nodded.

“I have the hardest time trusting people. I know it’s not your fault,” I said. “I just do. It’s the way my parents told me they were getting divorced, it’s eighth grade, it’s a whole bunch of things. So when I found out about you and Mikayla before she even told me about you guys . . . that really hurt. That I felt I couldn’t trust her to just be honest with me.”

“But I—we—didn’t know. I only found out she knew you the night of the bonfire,” Jackson said.

“Yeah, I get that now,” I said. “I had some time to think while I was stranded on an island last night with Gus.”

“Is there a story?” Jackson asked.

“The only story is that I screwed things up when we got back,” I said. “Because I can’t trust him.”

“Here’s my theory: You should just assume you can trust people until they prove otherwise. Otherwise you’re constantly looking for problems when they’re not there. And then you’re the problem,” Jackson said.

“Like you know me that well. You haven’t even seen me for three years—”

“I’m not talking about
you
,” Jackson said. “I’m talking about me, too. Ever since my brother started lying to us about everything, I have a really hard time believing anything anyone says. But I have to remind myself it’s
not
everyone. Just him.”

“Sorry.”

“And Gus is not a liar. He’s a completely decent guy. And maybe you don’t want to hear this right now, but so is Mikayla.”

“No, she’s not,” I said.

“She is,” Jackson insisted.

“I meant she’s not a guy,” I said.

Jackson narrowed his eyes. “Very funny. Think of everything you know about her. I mean, you know her way better than I do, but come on: She is about the most innocent and honest person ever. Which is why it really sucks that she gave me the let’s-just-be-friends talk last night.”

“What?” I asked.

“She broke up with me,” Jackson said. “She said things moved too quickly, and she needed more time to herself.”

“I had no idea . . . I haven’t seen her in a day or two.” Here I’d been blaming Mikayla for my problems, assuming she was having the dream summer while I was moping around being jealous and miserable.

It was in reverse. I’d just spent the night with Gus—a fun, exciting, though slightly worrisome night—while she was having an awful time. I’d bet anything she broke up with Jackson because I refused to forgive her. That was the message I’d been giving her.