“You’re not supposed to be here,” Anthony says. “You’re supposed to be at the dinner.”
His voice is harsh. I flinch, rubbing my brilliant red lips together. What did I expect? I was awful to him at my house. Why should he be happy to see me? “Can we talk? Please. I have something to say, and then I’ll go.”
He shakes his head. “No, you—”
“Yes,” his mom interrupts. “He’ll hear you out.”
Anthony turns to his mom, and she pats him on the shoulder. “I’ll be inside.”
The door closes behind her, leaving the two of us. Not the best setting. Me, standing on his driveway. Him by the trunk of his car, things piled so high in the backseat, I can see them through the window. My pulse ticks up. There’s no time, but I need it. Need to think of exactly the right thing to say.
I meet his eyes, and the world narrows. This is Anthony. I don’t have to be perfect. I just have to be honest.
My fingers wind into knots. “I messed up. I should’ve—I shouldn’t have…” I shake my head, start again. “You were right. About everything. I was scared. I’ve been scared since the day I got lost on the trail. I just didn’t know it.” My bangs ripple with the release of a breath. “I don’t want to be afraid anymore. So I’m here.”
His expression is uncertain. “What about your parents?”
“I told them I had to see you.”
“Yeah?” Disbelief colors his voice.
Why should he believe anything I say? “That’s why I’m here.” I step closer and reach for his hands. He slides them in his pockets, angling away from me. Panic jumps in my chest. I rush to fill the silence. “I asked you on Sunday if we could be fixed. But you don’t have to fix us, Anthony. I’m going to do it. I’m not going to the dinner.”
“Mai—”
“Let me finish.” I yank on one of his arms until I pull his hand free. I clutch it between mine because I always feel stronger when we’re connected. I lace my gloved hand with his, holding tight. “I’m going with you instead. Up north or wherever you’re headed. I don’t care if we camp in the middle of nowhere or if there are snakes or coyotes, and I don’t care that the idea of coffee out of a rusted pot makes me think of tetanus.”
His fingers slide over mine like he can’t help himself. “You only get tetanus from cuts.”
“It doesn’t matter.” I grab his other arm and take possession of that hand, too. He’s looking down at our hands, and so do I, inching so close that I can rest my forehead against his chest. “You’re not who I expected or who I planned for. You’re not my parents’ choice. But you’re my choice.” My breath shudders out. “I love you, Anthony.”
“You…?” He pulls back, his mouth slack.
I squeeze his hands, wishing I could crack open my ribs and show him so he’d believe me. “I have an intense feeling of deep affection for you,” I say. “I looked up the definition.”
His eyes turn shiny, but there’s still doubt there. I can feel it pushing between us. I’ve always been good at arguing points for an assignment. But now, when it’s real and when it matters, I’m coming up blank. “Anthony,” I try again. “I know I’ve said things before and I didn’t follow them up with actions. So this time, it’s not just words. This time, I’m proving it. I’m not going to the dinner with my family. I’m going camping. With you.”
“No.” He shakes his head as if the word wasn’t sharp enough. “You and I are not going camping.”
I lower my head so he can’t see a burst of new tears. I just dumped my heart all over him. Now I have to scoop up the pieces, shove them back inside, and—
“Mai. Hey.” His voice softens. He lifts my chin with a finger, his dimple making a sudden appearance. “I love you, too.”
“You do?” I blink, confused, even as a wave of happiness rises in my throat. “You really do?”
“I really do, Dumpling.”
I smack his shoulder, but I’m laughing and wiping tears away with my other hand. “Then why aren’t we camping?”
“Because,” he says, “we’re going to the dinner.”
“The dinner?” I say, but really I’m thinking, He loves me! He loves me, too!
He holds up his arms. “You don’t think I camp in this, do you?”
White shirt. Shiny blue pants. I shrug helplessly.
“Hang on.”
He disappears in his garage while I stand on the drive and think, He loves me. He loves me, too!
He jogs back wearing an electric blue coat to match the pants and a shiny blue cummerbund around his waist.
“My dad bought the suit off eBay for a Halloween costume. It’s the only tux I could get my hands on last minute.”
“A tux?”
He finds my hands again, and I love how he slides his up the satin material. “What are these things?”
“They’re called gloves.”
“They’re the sexiest things I’ve ever seen. Except for the dress. And the lipstick.” His eyelids turn heavy. “Except for you.” His hands run up my arms, and goose bumps follow. He sighs. “I know I accused you of being afraid, but I was just as bad. I totally shut down after my dad died, told myself I didn’t need a life plan. I was going to bum around and see the world. Maybe I thought I could get back what I’d lost if I took Dad with me. But really, I didn’t want to lose anything else.”
He smiles as he traces a finger over my eyebrows. My nose. The tip of my chin. “It was working, until I met you—the worst possible girl for me. It wasn’t a matter of would it end, but when it would end. I knew I had to get over you. The way I felt…it scared me. When you seemed to feel the same way, it scared me even more.”
“Why?” I breathe.
“Because I wanted it so bad. But I was afraid to trust in us.”
“You mean trust in me. And then I wouldn’t tell my parents about you.”
“And I wouldn’t give an inch on my end. I was afraid to take the risk that I’d change and you would still leave. Instead, I was going to be the one who left.” He looks back at his car. “I had everything packed up, and Dad was on the counter ready to go. And then my mom said some things. Got me thinking. I realized I wasn’t going anywhere. I was just running away.” His eyes lock with mine, and our fingers twist together. “I know I said I didn’t want strings, but now I want every thread of my life back. And you’re the one who ties them all together.”