I opened my eyes in the half-light of Kendall’s bedroom, not sure what time it was or whether I had actually slept at all.
This room was so familiar from our years of sleepovers. The blue shag area rug on the floor next to me, the pile of dirty clothing that was always different but also, somehow, the same. Kendall’s ceiling with the hot-air balloon mobile hanging in the corner, the window with the cracked pane, that poster of the kittens eating cake. Even the air mattress under my sleeping bag was a type of home.
In this moment, it was easy to feel like the night before had never happened, that none of its strange magic or glorious surprises had, in fact, been real. Maybe we were still twelve, fourteen, sixteen, and we’d made it all up in a story we’d told each other in the dark.
“Will you help me write an email to James?” said Kendall’s voice suddenly from the bed.
“You’re awake?”
“Duh.”
I laughed with relief.
“Did you sleep at all?” I asked.
“I’m not sure.”
I laughed again, then got up, retrieved Kendall’s laptop from her desk, and fell onto the foot of her bed.
“Move over,” I said.
She scooched close to her pillows and hugged her knees close.
“Do you think he liked me?” she asked.
“Uh, yeah.”
“Because they always seem like they like me, at first. But then something changes. I can’t figure out what.”
“It’s not you,” I said, not sure if that were completely true. Kendall usually clammed up and got so shy, so nervous. The more she liked someone and the closer they got to something sparking, the weirder she started acting. I could easily see how a guy could misinterpret that as her pushing him away. But I’d never been able to tell her this. Especially after Lady Bic Night, and after Lukas. Our lives had diverged too much in this department.
But right now, we were at the same point, hovering on the edge of something with someone. This changed everything.
“I guess we’ll see,” said Kendall.
“You’ve been lying here, writing a rough draft in your head, yes?”
“Oh, yes.”
I passed her the laptop. “Okay, show me.”
Kendall pulled up to the curb in front of Millie’s. We’d pressed Send on her email to James and jumped on the air mattress for a few minutes. I was convinced that light rays of nervous energy were about to shoot out of our fingers.
“You’ll keep me posted?” I asked.
“You’ll turn on your goddamn phone at some point?” she shot back, pointing with her chin at my bag. I hadn’t yet dared switch it on. If it wasn’t on, I couldn’t not get a call.
“Yes, yes.”
“Do it now. I want to watch you do it.”
I gave her a dirty look. “Fine. But there won’t be anything. It’s too early.”
I fished out my phone, held down the Power button, and the screen lit up. We waited for a few seconds for it to tell me I had a voice mail.
It didn’t tell me I had a voice mail.
“Too early, like you said,” said Kendall.
We both stared at the phone as if it might offer a more expert opinion. According to my data, the average turnaround time for a “call me” request to a potential love interest is 18.5 hours. If at all.
After Kendall drove away, I turned to see Richard standing in the window of the store, holding up two coffees.
“Fun night?” he asked as I came inside and took one of the coffees from him.
“Amazing,” I said, realizing it was true regardless of what happened next.
What happened next was that I made myself busy for an hour. Max’s yarn had come in the previous afternoon, and I packed it up in a crisp brown paper bag with handles.
Two people came into the store during that time, and neither of them bought anything. I watched Richard watch the FIND VERA! flyer as the door closed behind each one, until it stopped fluttering and finally became still.
“Aren’t Sunday mornings always slow?” I asked, waving my hand in front of his face.
“Yes, yes,” he said, snapping out of it.
“It’ll be okay,” I offered, even though I wasn’t sure what it was. Maybe that didn’t matter. It was a fill-in-the-blanks thing to say.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. My breath caught. My adrenaline surged.
It was not a number I recognized.
“Hello?” I said, my voice shaking.
“Ari?” asked Camden. He sounded far away. Fainter, and quieter. Tired, or nervous.
I swallowed hard, to make sure my throat was even working.
“You found my note.” I’d discussed this with Kendall, and we’d decided this was the best opening line. It came out okay. Almost regular.
“Eliza found it and stuffed it in my pants while I was sleeping.”
“Oh. That’s . . . sweet?”
“The Eliza version, yes.”
We both laughed, then fell quiet. I felt like we’d traveled successfully up the ramp to this conversation and were now cleared for takeoff. Richard looked up at me from where he sat at the counter.