“It’s off bounds. We’re not supposed to leave the gym,” I remind him.
“We already have, technically. Come on. Live a little,” he says, tugging my pinkie finger.
I let him guide me, grateful for the opportunity to delay facing Kassie and everyone else who witnessed my epic meltdown. “Where are we going?”
“Somewhere you’ve definitely never been.”
I’m not sure how that’s possible. After four years on the student council, I’ve seen nearly every nook and cranny of this school. We reach the next floor and he leads me through a darkened hallway near the English department, then through a door I always thought was a janitorial closet. It opens to a narrow set of cement stairs.
“What is this?” I ask.
“You’ll see.”
Turns out, the super-secret stairs lead to a super-super-super-secret rooftop. It boasts a sweeping view of the parking lot and part of the football field. I stare out at the field wistfully, reminiscing about all those brisk fall evenings Kassie and I spent watching Ollie’s games from the bleachers. She always made me paint my face in school colors, though her paint would magically stay on all night while mine would smudge in a matter of minutes.
“How did you know about this? I had no idea you could get up here,” I say, rubbing the gooseflesh that’s emerged on my bare arms.
“That’s what happens when you live dangerously,” he teases. “Some of the guys on the football team used to come up here to work out when the weight room was too full. Run drills and stuff. Everyone liked it because the coach didn’t come to check on us much here. I used to hate it, though.” He peers over the edge, gripping the wall for support.
A bubble of laughter rises in my throat. I’m not used to vulnerable Renner. “Still haven’t conquered your fear of heights, huh?”
“Not quite.”
“Remember when you had to be rescued from the zip line on Ollie’s birthday?” I clutch my chest at the memory. Renner climbed the very first tree, froze, and needed the skinny instructor to rappel him down. He was first in line, so everyone saw.
“Yes. Thanks for the reminder.” He nudges me and sits on the gravel.
I plunk down next to him, pulling my knees to my chest.
“So . . . that was interesting back there,” he says.
“Everyone heard, didn’t they?”
The corner of his mouth slants upward, ever so slightly. “I mean, not everyone. Only about seventy percent of the seniors.”
I turn to him. “Look, before you say anything, I know what I said to Kassie was wrong. It was mean. I’m going to apologize to her.”
“No. You were right. You may need to work on your delivery . . . but what you said was true. She isn’t a good friend to you, Char.” He says it with such conviction. It reminds me of when Adult Renner said exactly the same thing about her.
“She tries to be. She really does,” I pledge, pushing the fine gravel back and forth. “Like, I don’t think she means to fail me so much. It’s not malicious. And maybe my expectations are too high?”
He waves me off. “Remember that time in ninth grade when you planned her birthday party and she came for like an hour and then ditched you to go to Ollie’s?”
I definitely remember that. It was when they first started dating. She and Ollie were already attached at the hip, and I remember selfishly hoping it would only be temporary, until she moved on to another guy she was less obsessed with. But she never did. In fact, their infatuation only grew. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always loved Ollie. But it’s hard not to feel a twinge of bitterness toward him. He’s the reason our friendship changed.
I wince at the memory. “I went all out for that party. I biked everywhere to find the right streamers. I taped them around my house. Spent the whole night blowing up balloons. I even got her a cake from the bakery downtown she likes.”
“Have you ever just told her how you feel?”
“I have a couple times. But it doesn’t really fix things, so I’ve kind of given up and accepted this is how things are. And she was probably right about me back there—maybe I do kind of take control and order everyone around.”
He seems disappointed in that answer. “For what it’s worth, I don’t agree. You do a lot. You’re always covering for everyone. Including me. All year you’ve saved my ass. You’ve basically run the council single-handedly. I’ve never actually thanked you.”
My breath hitches. Real Renner has never acknowledged the work I’ve done, let alone thanked me with genuine appreciation. “I don’t know what to say. I appreciate it,” I say, tepidly.
“Good.” He gives me a playful nudge.
I close my eyes, basking in the warmth of the setting sun against my face. I feel so at peace, which is a small miracle after what just happened in the gym. “How are you feeling? I know yesterday was rough.”
His body tenses. “It was hard. My mom was in a bad place. Didn’t get out of bed to spend time with my dad and me.”
“I’m so sorry.”
He shrugs. “I tried to cheer her up, but nothing made a difference.”
I think about when he told me about his mom at Walnut Creek. “It’s not on you to make her happy again, Renner. That’s way too big of a burden. You can’t be the sun to all people without eventually burning out.”
I see him nod in my peripheral vision. “How about you? Have you spoken to your dad since the other day?”
“He wants to have brunch. Before prom.” I decided to call him before Nori picked me up. He seemed happy to hear from me. Strangely, he wasn’t distracted. He asked a couple pointed questions about Senior Week and who my prom date was. I had to confess I was going solo. Part of me suspects Mom briefed him on what was going on with me beforehand. Before I could bring up the lake house, he said he wanted to come to town and take me out for brunch. Just the two of us.
“How do you feel about that?”
“Scared? Nervous? It’s been so much easier not talking to him all these years. Because then I wouldn’t be disappointed. Now it feels so strained. Knowing he’s talking to me because he’s engaged and having a baby. But then the other part of me feels so guilty for not talking to him. Like, I want a relationship with my future sister—or brother,” I correct. “But it’s hard to imagine having one with him. Am I making any sense?”
“Yeah. You are. And you don’t need to feel guilty at all. He left you. He’s the one who missed out. And that’s on him to fix.”
“I guess.”
He stares ahead for a few breaths. “If you want . . . I can go with you?”
I squint in confusion. “Go with me? To meet my dad?”
“I mean, not like . . . to brunch. That would be awkward. Unless you wanted me to,” he adds, voice trembling in almost a nervous lilt. “But I could drive you and just wait outside?”
“Really? You’d do that?” I’m reminded of how willing Adult Renner was to accompany me to see Alexandra and the girls. How comforting his presence was when I was a bundle of nerves the entire drive there.
“Of course.”
I narrow my gaze in suspicion. “Why are you suddenly being nice to me?”
“I could ask you the same question. You haven’t bit my head off in twenty-four hours.” He pulls his phone out theatrically to confirm the time. As he slips his phone back, his leg brushes against mine.
I want to tell him the real reason. But I don’t. Because I don’t want to ruin whatever this is. “Do you ever wonder what things would have been like if . . .” I let my words drift, head heavy with familiarity. Because we’ve had this conversation before.
“All the time,” he says simply, like he knew what I was going to say.
“I guess it’s too late now,” is all I can think to say. Senior Week is almost over. And then all of this will be over. We’ll be off on our separate paths. Life as we know it is going to change forever.
“Is it too late?” he asks simply.