“So, is this a normal first date for you?” she asks, a tomato clinging to the edge of her mouth. She swipes at it with the back of her hand.
“Never been on a date.” I lick relish off my finger.
She stops chewing and looks over at me. “Never?”
I shrug, watching the waves in the moonlight. “I’ve dated girls. But most of the girls I dated just wanted to make out or go to parties or watch TV. Nothing so … official. I’ve never been good at all this.”
She pops the last bite of her hot dog into her mouth. “You’re a tragic case,” she says, her cheek all puffed out with food.
We sit, quiet, without music for the first time since we met. Just us and the sound of the waves.
“I come here sometimes, when I don’t want to go home,” I tell her. Her darkly painted fingernails, her delicate skin, her red dress—it all shines in the dark, the whole world just shadow and light. “It’s better with you.”
She sits for a minute, a slight smile on her face, and then she says, “Okay. Music time. I haven’t gotten a shot in a while. Seems like a good time to win.”
What Amy turns on breaks the silence so completely that it’s almost startling. “The Strumbellas,” she shouts over it. She’s turned it up so loud that I’m pretty sure the people driving by on the highway can probably hear it through our rolled-up windows.
And then she’s dancing in her seat as the song picks up even higher, throwing her arms over her head and wiggling around so enthusiastically that all I can do is laugh.
When the song ends, she collapses against the seat like that one dance took everything out of her, and I lean across the console to kiss her. Against her mouth, I say, “That was adorable, but you’re going to have to do better than that.”
AMY
I DON’T MEAN to fall asleep on the way home, but it’s late, and I’m so relaxed as we bump our way back into Kansas City, that I can’t keep my eyes open.
I jerk awake when we come to a stop in front of my house, and I realize it’s because Oliver has pressed his hand to the inside of my arm, the slightest of pressures to wake me up.
“Did I bore you?” he asks, but he’s smiling, and I kiss him before climbing down out of the truck, my boots dangling from my fingers.
“Thanks for the best first date ever,” I say, my hand curled into the open window.
His eyebrows go up. “Does that mean there’s going to be a second date?”
I bite my lip. “Guess you’ll just have to ask me and see.”
And Oliver’s smile rivals the brightness of the moon.
OLIVER
“YOU HAVE ONE new message. First new message from phone number…”
I scowl at my phone while Brooke putters around behind me in her office. She’s trying to reach over me to get to a stack of papers, and I reach out to grab them and hand them to her.
“Hello, Oliver, this is Matt with the admissions office at Missouri State University. We’re calling to confirm your campus tour this afternoon at—”
I hang up and look at the clock on Brooke’s computer.
Shit.
I forgot I was supposed to change my work schedule so I could drive out to St. Louis and tour the Missouri State campus, and now it’s too late. I sigh. I’m so exhausted with trying to keep track of all the lies I’ve told Mom that I’m not even sure I give a shit anymore.
I delete the voicemail. Just one more thing Mom won’t know about.
“Everything okay?” Brooke asks, leaning against the desk and absently flipping through the papers I just handed her. Even though Brooke has her issues with her parents and the stresses of running this place, this is the way she always exists in my mind: carefree and confident, taking care of her shit like an adult and living the life she wants.
“Brooke, can you teach me how to run a business?”
Brooke’s eyes stop scanning over the page in her hand, and she turns to look at me. “Really?”
I shrug. “Only if you’re cool with it. I want to learn how to do what you do. I want to learn how to have a place like Spirits.”
Brooke grins. “Well, I can’t take all the credit since Lauren’s parents did most of the work, but…” She tosses the stack of papers onto the desk with a smack and leans back on her palms. “I’d be honored, Mr. York.”
AMY
I ALMOST FORGET that it’s gymnastics and karate night until Hector comes running out of his bedroom in his gi. He walks straight past me and to the fridge, where he pulls an already poured glass of milk from the shelf and swallows it in three gulps.
Mama tosses a loaf of bread and sandwich supplies on the table for dinner before rushing off to take care of something else, so I fix sandwiches for me and my kid siblings, all the while considering my options. My parents are usually gone for two or more hours when they take my brothers and sisters to their activities. That’s usually time I use to revel in the peace of the house, but tonight I’m thinking about Oliver. I’m thinking about lying in his truck and looking up at the stars.
I take out my phone and text him.
My family is going to be gone for a few hours tonight. Want to come over?
They’re all putting on their shoes when I get a text back.
Are you sure?
I laugh because when I first met Oli, I thought he was a badass. I thought he was the kind of guy who would quietly sit in the corner but rip you to shreds if you got too close. But now I know Oli is just a big softie, one who’s afraid of getting me in trouble and saving himself for the right person, and my heart bursts when I think about it.
I’m sure. We don’t have to do anything. I just want to be with you.
Maybe it’s a forward thing to say, but I don’t want him to be nervous about coming over. I don’t want him to think I’m going to pressure him just because he’s a virgin and I’m not. In the back of his truck, he kissed me and held my hand and ran his fingers along every inch of my exposed skin. And I’m okay if he just wants to do that again.
Leaving work now. Be there soon.
OLIVER
I GET HOME from work, planning to get straight into the shower. I want to be fresh when I meet up with Amy. I know she says we don’t have to do anything, but I want to be prepared just in case we decide we’re going to do something after all.
But I never make it to my room because Mom appears in the living room, and she’s wearing an expression that says I’m in deep shit.
“Did you forget about something?” she demands, her arms crossed tight over her chest and her mouth the opposite of her big-gummed smile.
I just stare at her. I can probably assume this is about Missouri State, but it could be anything, honestly. “I’m guessing yes?”
She lets out an exasperated noise that kind of makes her sound like a horse. “You were supposed to tour Missouri State this afternoon, but instead, I got an email from their office because you never showed up for check-in.”
“Why did they even contact you?” I demand, and I realize as soon as she scowls at me that that’s definitely not the point.