Hello, Goodbye, and Everything in Between

When she looked up again, Aidan was smiling at her from the other side of a display of chips. “You’re right,” he said, then pointed at the box. “I’ll try harder. I promise to be more of a nerd.”


Clare glanced at the rack of candy bars closest to her and tossed him a roll of Smarties. “You’re already a nerd,” she told him. “And you’re already smart. You just need to put in the time.”

“I know,” he admitted.

She held up a Payday with a grin. “A reward for hitting the books.”

He threw a 100 Grand in her direction. “What’s it worth to you?”

“Go fish,” she said, winging a package of Swedish Fish at him, and by the time the cashier had kicked them out of the store, they were both laughing so hard they didn’t care.

Now the door opens behind her with a mechanical chime, and Clare turns to see Aidan standing there, looking a little dazed. He opens his mouth to say something, then snaps it shut again, and Clare is gripped by a sudden regret at the way the night has unfolded. It feels as if they’re on the brink of something they might not be able to take back, and she takes a quick step toward him, still not sure what she’s going to say. Behind her, the man at the register drums his fingers hard on the counter.

“You gonna buy that?” he asks, and Clare looks down, realizing that she’s holding a pack of gum in her clenched fist. When she uncurls her fingers to look at it, she feels like laughing. She tosses it to Aidan, who snags it easily, then holds it up to read the label. Once he does, his whole body seems to relax, and he raises his eyebrows.

“Ice Breakers?” he says, and she shrugs.

He takes a few steps in her direction, and for a moment, in spite of everything, she wonders if he might kiss her, right here in the mini-mart. But instead, he stops in front of the candy display, scanning the rows of neatly stacked boxes and bags until he finds what he’s looking for, and when he hands it to Clare, she realizes it’s even better.

Not just one kiss, but a whole package.





The Fountain


10:21 PM


They walk to a sound track of crinkling plastic and fluttering wrappers, swapping colors and flavors, exchanging chocolate for gummy bears and licorice for gum. There’s more back in the car, which they left tucked in a parking spot behind the mini-mart, but they couldn’t carry it all. It had been an impulsive, giddy buying spree, the two of them laughing as they tossed candy onto the counter, the packages skidding like hockey pucks toward the surprised cashier.

Some of the names could have a larger meaning, if you looked at them just right—the wax lips and the candy hearts, even the Chuckles—but most of them didn’t. It was just that they’d gotten a little carried away, relieved to be doing something—anything—together, to be reveling in laughter rather than sulking in silence, a happy reprieve, if not a permanent one.

“I have no idea why I’m eating so many of these,” Clare says, popping another M&M into her mouth as they cross the street. “I’m not even hungry.”

“Me neither,” Aidan says cheerfully. “We’re definitely gonna get sick.”

They haven’t discussed a destination, but once they hit the first few shops on the edge of town—the bakery and the jewelry store and the bank that gives out free popcorn on Saturdays—their options are few enough that they both know where they’re headed all the same. They pass a couple about their parents’ age leaving an Italian restaurant, and they can see down the street to where the lights are still blazing in the windows of Slices, but for the most part, the town is empty at this hour, quiet and still and pretty much all theirs.