“Would you sleep with him?” she asked.
A warm feeling expanded in my chest. “I would. I want to do everything with him. Every. Thing. I’d let—”
“Are you going to talk about that with him?”
“Sleeping with him?” I squeak.
“Yes, but I was talking about staying here. If you decide to do that.”
“I’m scared,” I admit. “This is new and fragile. He just admitted he liked me. But yes, I’ll talk with him.”
“Good. You guys are meant for each other.” Her face dropped. “But it’ll just hurt more when he leaves, huh?”
“Yeah,” I said. I ate a fry. “Is it bad that I want to have this summer with him? Even if I have to let him go at the end?”
“Why don’t you let him decide?”
“We can decide it together. It’s too early to ask him now. I’ll see how it goes.”
She nodded.
“Are you going to hold back with him knowing that he’s leaving? I mean emotionally as well as physically.”
“I don’t want to. While everything in me is screaming to protect my heart, I want him. In all the ways.” I caught her eyes. “Does that make me a bad person?”
“To want to sleep with a hot guy you’ve liked for years? No. But to get all cozy with him and then send him to the other side of the country? That’s a recipe to hurt both of you. Listen, I fully support you taking care of your mom and getting closer with the one guy you have wrapped around your finger. But I will not support you dumping him at the end of summer.”
My voice lowers. “I don’t want to do that.”
But was that something that would happen?
“There isn’t an easy answer,” she said. “But you’re going on a date with him tomorrow?”
I nodded.
“And you’re going to eventually talk with him?”
I nodded again.
She smiled. “Then let me come over and help you pick out an outfit.”
“Thanks,” I said.
We left to go to my house while I secretly obsessed over what I’d do without Tate in my life.
Six
Emojis
Tate
After spending all day Saturday working with my mom catering a wedding at a local boutique hotel, I crawled into the MLR and grabbed my phone. It was late at night. I’d been so busy serving hors d’oeuvres I hadn’t been able to text Audrey, even though I’d thought about her every time I passed the cake. Not only was it sweet like her, but I kinda wished the topper looked like us. And was at our wedding.
Audrey was accustomed to me having these jobs on weekends, especially in summer. Years ago, Mom decided Perry, Bert, and I needed to know how to serve food and act at parties. Today, I’d failed in both those endeavors since I caused a minor food-related disaster that didn’t make Mom happy. I sighed.
Safe in the cab of my truck and eager to contact Audrey now that I was free, I had half a mind to drive over to her house despite the hour. Instead, my fingers dashed over the phone screen.
Tate: Guess how many mini lobster rolls wrapped in tiny red and white checked paper bags I dropped?
Audrey: More than one?
Tate: Two trays. On the prep kitchen floor. Made such a huge mess. Mom was pissed
Tate: I’m no model employee
Tate: I might be out of a job for a while
Tate: Like at least until next weekend when she has another big bash
Tate: More time to hang with you, though. :)
Audrey: Sorry about the event, but to be fair, I’m sorrier about the loss of the lobster rolls. Your mom’s are yummy
Tate: You wound me
Audrey: Kidding. I’m sorry about your job loss
Tate: So
Tate: About that date. Still wanna go on one with a hapless waiter?
Audrey: Absolutely <3
Tate: Pick you up tomorrow at noon. Missed you today. Night. x
I wondered after I hit send whether I should’ve included the x, but I settled on liking the fact that I sent it. If I couldn’t kiss her for real, I’d kiss her virtually.
Audrey: Night. x
I smiled to myself.
The next afternoon, I took my seat in a booth across from Audrey at Craft, a Sonoma classic food institution, thinking about how much between us was the same and how much was, I hoped, about to change.
Despite having eaten here with Audrey dozens of times, today felt different because of what I wanted to ask her.
The host left us menus, and I took in Audrey’s beauty. Dressed in a classic blue-striped sailor shirt, tiny white shorts, and strappy espadrilles, she was my hot girl fantasy.
But some concerning tiredness in her eyes hadn’t been present the last time we saw each other. I hung out with her so frequently, I often knew when she was sick or about to get her period, even when she hadn’t figured those things out herself. I guess I knew when she was off because she was my everything. But I didn’t know what this current down-in-the-dumps expression meant.
“Are you worried about finals?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrows.
Audrey blinked rapidly at me, picked up the menu, then shot me a grin that didn’t meet her eyes. “No. Why?”
I opened my mouth to explain, but the waiter sidled up to the table and took our drink order—house-made sodas.
Maybe I should’ve taken us somewhere where we wouldn’t be interrupted. This better not be as bad as the picnic tables at school the other day.
Not wanting to be inadvertently insulting, I needed to choose my words carefully. “You look a little tired.”
“Oh.” She quieted, and I kicked myself for not saying something nice. It wasn’t that she didn’t look fantastic, but it seemed like something troubled her. “I didn’t sleep well.”
I got an image of Audrey all curled up in her bed, her long hair splayed across a snowy white pillow and immediately banished that thought to my spank bank. It didn’t belong in my brain now. I’d take it out later when I could do something with it.
“Anything else going on?” I tried to keep my voice quiet.
She peered at me over the menu. I didn’t know why she bothered reading the entrees. It wasn’t like she ever ordered anything but the truly outstanding grilled cheese anyway.
This fact heartened me.
I knew her. I loved the fact that I knew her possibly better than she knew herself, the advantage of years of studying her. Hopefully I wasn’t too stalkery. I just cared.
Audrey didn’t answer me for a beat. Then another. “Family stuff,” she finally said. “My mom is sick.”
“What kind of sick?”
“She’s got MS.”
My stomach dropped. “Is she going to be okay?”
Audrey nodded. “Yeah, I think so. She should live a long time. But she’ll be in a wheelchair soon.”
“Babe. I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks,” she said. “Honestly, I don’t want to talk about it now. We can talk about it later. Okay?”
I nod. “If that’s what you want. You know you can talk about anything with me, right?”
“Yeah. I know.”