“Collins.” Nate steps away from a group of middle-aged dads and greets me as I approach. “Wish I could say it was nice to see you, but a liar I am not.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. Can you please repeat that?” I lean in closer, cupping my hand around my ear. “I couldn’t hear you over your shirt.”
“Bazinga!” one of the dads I’ve yet to meet shouts. He angles toward me, lifting his hand in the air for a high five. “She got you there, Adams!”
I slap my hand against his with a little too much enthusiasm. Nate’s cheeks flush red on his cleanly shaven face. Warmth flows through my veins at the sight. Not much brings me more pleasure than knocking Nate down a peg or two.
“Shut up, Ben.” Nate glowers at his maybe friend. “And she didn’t get me. These shirts are made by native Hawaiians and part of the proceeds go toward helping them offset the effects of tourism and colonization. Where’s your shirt from, Old Navy?”
Oh fuck.
That actually is really cool. I wonder if I can get him to share the website with me for when I have money to buy things again . . .
“What’s wrong with Old Navy, bro?” Ben asks, clearly taken aback by the force of Nate’s frustration.
As someone who has placed myself firmly in the line of Nate’s wrath, I can say it’s definitely not for the weak of heart. And no offense to Ben, but no way is he prepared for this fight.
Nate dismisses Ben with a roll of the eyes before shifting his attention back to me.
“Can we talk?” He doesn’t wait for a response before turning his back on me and heading in the direction of the only quiet spot in the yard.
Considering I didn’t want to talk to him in the first place, I contemplate letting him go off on his own and rejoining the party. But when I see Karen walking around holding a plate of creamy banana slop, I decide messing with Nate a little longer couldn’t hurt.
As I approach the secluded area behind the willow tree, I fight back the memories of summer days spent beneath the tree, spilling my guts to Nate about my fears, dreams, and everything in between. I wish I could go back in time and scoop that little girl up, hugging her tight for the hard times coming her way.
“Just so you’re aware, I already told my mom that I think you may be a serial killer,” I warn as I get closer. “If you murder me, your basement will be the first place they’ll check.”
His eyes go wide and his head jerks back. He looks horrified. “You told your mom what?”
“I’m kidding.” I try to calm him down without laughing. “I mean, I did really voice my serial killer concerns with her, but she didn’t believe me. She thinks you’re nice for some reason.”
“Jesus, Collins.” He drags his hand across his face. He’s already exhausted and we’ve barely exchanged five sentences. “What’s wrong with you? Why do you have to act like this?”
Is he serious? The audacity of this man.
“Oh, no you don’t.” My palm itches for the garden hose again. “You dealt the first blow tonight. You don’t get to pretend to be the victim because I’m better at this game than you. If you want to keep it pleasant, you’d be wise to listen to the ancient philosopher who once stated, ‘Don’t start none, won’t be none.’?”
I didn’t realize rolling your eyes had a sound, but I swear I can hear Nate’s eyeballs hit the back of his skull. I shouldn’t be amused, but he’s just so much fun when he gets worked up. And after months of reading comment after comment on the internet from nameless and faceless bullies judging or mocking me, it’s nice to be able to fight back. Especially with something as low stakes as old high school grudges. I mean really, how bad could this get? He talks shit about me with people I already hate?
Whoop-de-freaking-do.
“So you’re sure you want to keep doing this? You really think you can beat me in this game?” The semi-ominous undertone in his words almost makes me chuckle.
Now I’m the one rolling my eyes. “Yeah, Nate. I’m sure.”
“Well then”—he pulls an unaddressed envelope out of his back pocket—“don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Seriously? What is this, a strongly worded letter?”
I snatch the envelope out of his hands and rip it open. I pull out the letter, and as I read, my amusement quickly transforms into barely concealed rage.
“What the fuck is this?” I ask as I read through words like HOA violation and tree removal and unapproved landscaping, but it’s when I see the fine that I truly lose my mind. “Two hundred dollars? Are you kidding me?”
Sure, I sprayed him with the hose and called his shirt loud, but this escalation of offenses is as ridiculous as it is unwarranted.
“Actually . . .” He leans in closer, clearly not valuing his life, as he points out the text near the bottom of the letter. “If you read right here, you’ll see that the first fine is two hundred dollars. But if you don’t remove the tree by the date listed, the HOA will be forced to issue another fine at a greater value.”
“Nate,” I try to reason with him. I know he doesn’t like me, but he’s the one who said he respected my parents, and they’re who this will affect in the long run. “My dad had me plant that tree for my mom. You cannot ask me to dig it up. She’ll be devastated. Don’t do this to them.”
“It’s not me.” He feigns innocence and the condescending smirk on his face widens. “I’m just presenting this to you on behalf of the homeowners’ association.”
“You came to my parents’ barbecue for official HOA business?” The hold on my temper finally slips. “How about you take this letter and shove it up your H-O-A-hole!”
I scrunch up the letter into a ball and aim it at his face, but he easily dodges it.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He bends over and picks up the paper, taking his time to straighten it out before handing it back to me. “But I have a deal to make with you, should you choose to accept.”
I don’t want to play into his stupid little game, but I also don’t have spare money lying around to keep paying fines. Plus, I already feel like such a burden on my poor parents, I can’t be responsible for costing them more money or losing the tree.
“What?” I look around, grateful to see nobody’s bearing witness to this exchange. “Spit it out already.”
He was always as dramatic as he was pompous. It’s too bad certain things don’t change with time.
“Move,” he says like this is some small and easy request. “I’ve made a life for myself here. I’ve created a community that values me and my contributions. I don’t need some bitter girl from high school causing scenes everywhere I go and making others question my character.”