“Anyway,” I said, looking around for the chips, “that’s what happened to me today. How was your day? What did you do?” I was trying to get back to where I’d been just a few minutes ago, but I could hear that my voice wasn’t quite right—it was a little shrill, and I was talking faster than usual.
“It was okay,” Clark said. “I worked this afternoon, and then . . . um . . . got things ready for tonight.” He smiled at me, and I looked down at the table and wished, more than anything, that I was back in that same place with him.
“Neat,” I said, my voice coming out too high. “Awesome.”
“Andie.” Clark leaned across the table and took one of my hands in both of his. “If you’re nervous about tonight, it’s okay. And—”
“No,” I said, wishing I could shake this off once and for all. It wasn’t Clark’s fault my day had gotten so totally derailed. “I’m not. I mean, a little bit. But it’s not that.”
“Then what is it?”
I looked at him and realized that while I knew I didn’t have to tell him about Bri and Wyatt, I wanted to. I didn’t want to keep something that big from him. And maybe if I talked about it, the thoughts that had been swirling around in my head ever since I left Bri’s house would settle down a little and I could enjoy what was supposed to be one of the most important nights of my life.
“Okay,” I said, letting out a breath. “But you can’t tell anyone. All right?”
“Of course,” Clark said easily.
“I mean it,” I said, not breaking eye contact with him.
“Yes,” Clark said, his tone growing more serious, clearly picking up on how I was feeling. “What’s going on?”
I took a breath and started to tell him. By the time I was through, our chips had finally arrived, but neither one of us had touched them yet.
“Jeez,” Clark said when I’d finished, letting out a low whistle.
I winced. “I know.”
“This . . . I mean, this can’t end well, right?”
“Well,” I said, letting go of his hands, “I mean . . . Bri and Wyatt have been keeping it together all summer. So if they can get through this until he goes back to school, they’ll be fine. That’s what I told her to do, actually.”
“Wait, what?”
“It just makes sense,” I said, breaking a chip in half, not even because I really wanted it, but because I wanted to have something to do with my hands.
“Why were you telling her to do anything?” Clark asked, sounding mostly baffled.
“Because it was going to wreck everything,” I said, hearing myself get defensive, “and it was the logical thing to do.”
Clark just looked at me. “So is Bri just going to keep this secret from Toby forever? Are you?”
“Do you really think they’re going to be able to make a long-distance thing work?” I asked, knowing full well that I wasn’t just talking about Bri and Wyatt. “Especially since they haven’t even talked about it?”
The sentence seemed to hang between us for a second, and I pressed my nails into my palms, not even sure what I wanted him to say.
“Yeah,” he finally replied. He cleared his throat and looked down at the table. “That’s . . . I mean, I guess it’s a complicated situation.”
I nodded, trying not to let the disappointment I was feeling show on my face. What had I wanted Clark to say? That we were different, that we’d find a way to make it work? That he’d at least thought about this, like I had?
I took a long drink of my soda, wishing more than anything that we’d just left when I’d wanted to in the parking lot. It suddenly felt like Clark was getting farther away from me across the table, like there was a gulf between us, even though he hadn’t actually moved. “Well,” I said, giving him a tight smile, “it was the only thing to be done. If you’d been there, you would have understood.”
“Okay,” Clark said, and silence fell between us once again. I looked across the table at him and tried to imagine the rest of the night playing out. Suddenly, all our plans, all Clark’s preparation, my fancy underwear . . . none of it felt right anymore. This wasn’t how I wanted the night to kick off. I couldn’t even imagine recapping this in the diner in the morning, that we had been awkward and sniping at each other over dinner, not saying what we really meant. None of it was going the way I’d wanted it to. And it wasn’t fair to do this to Clark, since he had just been yanked into this. “Clark,” I said, swallowing hard. “About tonight. I think maybe it’s not the best night for it.”
I looked up at him, and he nodded. “Yeah,” he said, and while I could hear disappointment in his voice, he didn’t sound surprised. “I think maybe another night would be better.”
“But soon,” I said.
“Yes, absolutely soon,” he said immediately, and I laughed. Our food arrived, and when Clark started eating his burrito, the kitchen staff gathering to watch again, I sent a text to my friends, telling them that our plans had changed, there was no need for waffles, and I’d talk to them tomorrow.