Coco groans. “Why did you even come?”
“Because I wanted to hang out with you.” And because Mom was too tired when she got home from work and asked me to. And because while the Jeep’s in the shop, my only opportunities to get out of the neighborhood are going to come in the form of running errands in Mom’s car. And because I needed to do something that required me to stop staring at my impossibly silent phone.
Coco sighs and clasps her hands together. “Can’t you, like, wait outside or something? You’re making me anxious.”
“Are you serious?”
She widens her eyes and nods sharply.
“Can’t you just get Abby a gift card? She’s turning fifteen, not getting a Nobel Prize.”
“I need to show her we’re going to stay friends after I transfer,” Coco shoots back. “Her love language is gifts! This needs to be perfect.”
“Am I supposed to know what you’re talking about right now?”
“You’re only making this take longer.”
“Fine,” I say, “I’ll be in the food court with my face buried inside a pizza until my nose stops stinging.”
“Great,” Coco says, spraying the air with a pale green bottle for emphasis.
I fight a sneeze as I leave the store and make my way over to the food court. I spot Rachel sitting across the room at a table in front of Sbarro, her hair freshly dyed an unnatural shade of blond as opposed to her usual unnatural dark brown, and my stomach sinks. I still wouldn’t say I’m mad at her, but I had resolved not to see her or Matt again until our ten-year high school reunion.
The sinking sensation goes from bad to worse when I see who’s sitting across from her.
Beau. Slumped back in his chair, hands resting on his legs, and Rachel has her foot hooked around his calf under the table. At the exact moment I register all of this, his eyes shift up to me. I look away as fast as I can and turn sharply toward the bathroom hallway, picking up my speed and praying he didn’t see me. I know he did.
God, I’m so tired of avoiding everyone and everything.
Maybe I should just be grateful. It’s going to be so easy to leave here after all. Maybe I needed my hometown to turn on me so I could let it go.
“Natalie,” Beau calls after me.
I don’t turn around. I’m in the hallway now, virtually running to the women’s restroom.
“Natalie, wait,” he calls again.
I bolt through the door and pull it closed behind me, starting to pace along the sink as I wonder how long I’m going to have to stay hidden in the bathroom. Everything about this is so humiliating. I should’ve just said “hi” to them, acted normal, but instead I ran away and hid, and now there’s no pretending I’m not upset.
“Natalie,” Beau calls through the door. “Natalie, I’m coming in.”
My eyes sweep over the bathroom for any other exit as I hurry to hold the door shut, but I’m too slow. Beau’s already in, and we’re alone together, and I’m so embarrassed I want to die.
“This is the ladies’ room, Beau.”
He walks me up to the edge of the sink, grabs me around the waist, and kisses me. For a second I’m so surprised, so overwhelmed by both how frustrated and how attracted to him I am, that I kiss him back. When he lifts me up and sets me on the sink, I abruptly come to my senses and shove him back.
“What’s wrong with you?” I shout. I jump down and stalk past him to the door. “Stay away from me.”
I storm back toward Bath & Body Works, noting that Rachel is no longer in the food court when I pass. I weave through the clouds of sugary-sweet scents, march up to Coco, and drag her toward the faux-wooden checkout counter. “Whatever you’re holding in your hand right now is what Abby’s getting.”
I wake with a start in the middle of the night, and my first thought is that Grandmother’s here. I sit up and stare into the rocking chair, but it’s empty. I turn on the paper lamp next to my bed, and Gus lets out a frustrated moo. Maybe he was barking in his sleep again—that’s been known to wake me up.
Just then something clinks against the window in the walk-in closet, the wind, probably. But a second later, I hear the same sound, only a little louder. I get out of bed, creep toward the window, and pull the drapes aside.
I look down past the porch roof to the front lawn, where Beau’s standing. He drops a fistful of pebbles and holds a hand up to wave. I hesitate for a second, then shut the closet door behind me before sliding open the window.
“Hi,” Beau says. He’s swaying a little bit where he stands, his clothes rumpled and hair messy.
“What are you doing here?” I hiss.
He looks down at his feet then back up at me. “Can I come up?”
“Are you drunk?” I ask. That’s when I notice how rough his face looks, faintly bruised like he’s come straight from a brawl.
He glances away, running a hand over his mouth. His silence answers my question.
“Go home, Beau.”
“I need to tell you something,” he says.