“It was last minute,” I say, trying to make her feel better. “We kind of just bumped into each other.”
“But Dean got us wine,” Danielle says, her eyes twinkling. “We went to Giovanni’s.”
“Who were you on a date with?” I can tell Ava’s warring between her frustration with Danielle and her curiosity. “One of Dean’s friends? Wait, was it Cody?”
“Hey, guys.” Andrew pulls out the chair next to mine and sits down. Danielle is texting on her phone and she barely spares him a glance. I know it’s one of her tactics, one of the moves she tried to teach me when I first met Dean.
“How come you guys aren’t eating outside?” Andrew asks. “It’s so nice out.”
Great. We’re talking about the weather. Has it really come to that?
“We’re trying to keep our coca-kale-a out of the sun,” Ava answers. “It gets so gross when it’s warm.”
“It’s gross when it’s cold too,” Hannah says.
“Fair enough,” he says. He looks over at Danielle. “Hey, Danielle.”
She sets down her phone. “Oh, hey, Drew.”
“How was the rest of your weekend?”
“Uneventful.”
I think about what Hannah said—how they don’t actually know each other. In this moment, it seems kinda true. But then again, maybe they’re nervous. Maybe Andrew feels uncomfortable he admitted his secret to me, that he knows I’m watching their interaction and I know.
Ava studies Andrew for a second and then looks at Danielle and then at me, glancing between all of us so fast she looks dizzy.
“Is this the guy you went on a date with?”
“I’m the guy,” Andrew says.
Ava clicks her tongue. “Of course you are. I should have known.” She stands and picks up her empty tray and cup of sludge. “Nobody tells me anything.”
After school on Thursday I have work with Dean—the first time I’ve seen him since the double date from hell—and weirdly I’m kinda calm about it. It’s a relief not to feel nervous every time I see him now, especially since I’ve become an anxious mess around Andrew.
Now that it’s May, the weather is suddenly warmer, the air in the store heavy and stagnant. Summer is right around the corner, the end of the school year so close I can almost taste it.
Like everything else, the heat looks good on Dean. He has a fine sheen of sweat on his arms and forehead that makes him glisten.
“Does this place have any air-conditioning?” I ask, waving my arm in front of my face to cool off. I drop my backpack down on a chair in the break room and come back out, acutely aware of how sticky I am in all of the most unflattering places.
He smiles his aching, lopsided grin and shrugs.
“There’s a fan in the back room, but personally I think you look pretty good all flushed.” At his words, my face gets even hotter and I know it must look bright red. But I forget to feel self-conscious when he grabs my butt and pulls me forward into his heavy embrace. He kisses me, leaving his hand there and squeezing. I can’t believe his hand on my butt feels normal now. I feel like I’ve come a million years from the girl who was nervous when his knee touched mine.
I let all of my worries fade away, let my mind melt into a puddle from the heat, from his kiss, my chest fluttering with practiced excitement. This is what I need more than anything. Why did I let myself get so anxious about Andrew?
“Did you have fun on Saturday?” I ask, pulling away.
“It was fine,” he says.
Oh. Of course. Cue anxiety.
“Fine?”
“I mean, your friends are . . . just . . .” He trails off, not finishing his thought. Instead, he turns back to the counter and begins fiddling with some wires attached to the speakers. “I’m gonna find us an awesome soundtrack for today.”
“My friends are just what?” I ask, my voice sounding sharper than I intended. He plugs his phone into the speakers and shuffles through it.
“I mean, they’re just so . . . high school.” He clicks a button, and blaring trumpets and violins fill the room, triumphant. “John Williams.” He closes his eyes, letting the trumpets wash over him. “This guy has written, like, every single famous movie theme of all time. The man’s a genius. He takes good movies and makes them great; makes them fucking memorable. This one’s—”
“Jurassic Park,” I say. “I know. And what’s that supposed to mean? We are in high school.” I don’t like reminding him, but something about his tone is making me defensive.
“Rad,” he says. “Here I am trying to teach you what you already know.” Picking up his phone, he switches to another song, this one low and menacing. Ba dum. Ba dum.
“Jaws,” I say automatically. He lets it play behind us, building and building.
“I mean, when I’m with you, I just want to be with you. But your friends are just so involved. They want to know things. They want to feel like they’re a part of everything, when really it’s none of their business. I mean, the first time you came over you brought a whole squad. That’s what’s high school about it.” He taps on his phone and the music turns back into blaring horns. “If you don’t know this one, it’s just criminal. As store manager, I honestly don’t think I could let you work here, if you can’t name this—”
“It’s obviously Star Wars,” I say, shaking my head. “Okay, but your friends are involved. What about Cody?”
“But you don’t see me bringing Cody along with us to dinner. I’m not gonna invite Cody in the room to watch us make out.” He smirks. “Unless you’re into that.” He scrolls through his phone again.
“I’m not . . . I didn’t,” I stammer. The Star Wars theme still blasts triumphantly behind us. “You invited us all over after Giovanni’s. I thought we were having fun.”
“We were,” he says. “I’m just saying, it doesn’t have to be so complicated. Life isn’t that dramatic. It’s just life.” He smiles, shaking his shoulders and arms like he’s letting the tension out of them. “Just let John Williams soothe you. Close your eyes and listen to the master.” He turns on the theme from Schindler’s List, which feels out of place in our hot, sunshiny little store.
Maybe he’s right and friends just complicate things. Andrew certainly has. Maybe it’s better to keep friends and relationships separate, like food on a tray that can’t spill over. One section for peas, another for mashed potatoes. Maybe that would keep my life from getting so messy.