Henry
She tells me about making up with Gabi, which she hasn’t mentioned in any of our sporadic surface-level texts over the last few days. I’m frustrated with myself, knowing that this huge thing happened in her life and I was too stubborn to be around for it.
She traces her fingertips over my palm, sensing my aggravation.
I relax as she tells me about the slow mending of her most important friendship.
She doesn’t delve into what fractured it in the first place, but I’m so happy to see her happy, I resist the urge to pry.
When she asks if I want to go to Hudson’s—one of the lesser dicks, she reminds me—tomorrow night, I tell her I’m in.
Then she asks what I’ve been up to. I give her the rundown: running, studying, keeping track of my dad. “Oh, and I read Delphina,” I say, like I’m only just remembering.
She pops upright. “Shut up.”
“What?” I shrug. “I did.”
Her gaze narrows. “The first book?”
“Yeah. And then the rest of the trilogy.”
She looks genuinely shocked.
I laugh. “You’ve gone on about how good the story is. What’d you expect?”
“Uh, not that you’d read them,” she sputters. She swats at my chest. “So? What’d you think?”
“Unputdownable,” I say honestly.
“Ha!” she chirps, grinning. “I knew you’d be into them!”
I’m into you, I think.
Six months ago, I was sure I was in love.
Maybe I was; maybe love comes in many forms and varying degrees.
What Whitney and I had was intense and exciting, scary in a way I don’t need to experience again.
It’s different with Piper. Our relationship is also intense and exciting and a little scary, but a lot less taxing.
Arguing with her sucks, but making up doesn’t feel like surrendering.
I can’t go back to Spokane.
The realization hits me like a jolt of electricity.
It’s so right, staying in Florida. I can’t believe Dad had to lob the idea my way.
This week, I heard back from both my guidance counselor and my Field Force rep.
While neither of them seemed enthusiastic about the idea of me transferring, neither could give a compelling reason as to why I shouldn’t.
It’s an inconvenience, application-wise, for everyone involved—me especially—but it’s not an impossibility.
Yeah, I’m gonna miss my mom, but staying in Florida will give me the space I need to heal. Staying in Florida means more time with Piper. And staying in Florida will allow me to continue cultivating my relationship with Dad—not to mention keeping tabs on him.
He needs me here.
I’m taking stock of everything I’m gonna have to do make a move happen—have my records transferred, register at Sugar Bay High, research their cross-country program, figure out how to get important shit I left in Washington to Florida—when Piper reaches up to smooth my furrowed brow. “What are you thinking about?”
I go right for it: “Staying. In Florida. For senior year.”
Her mouth drops open, and a hand flies up to cover her heart. “But…could you even?”
“Sure. My parents are okay with it—it was my dad’s idea. I think it’d be cool, hanging out in Sugar Bay for longer than this summer. But I don’t want to impose on your territory.”
A smile cracks her face wide-open. “You wouldn’t be imposing.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m totally sure.”
I sweep a curl off her face. “I thought you’d need a few minutes—or, like, a few days—to think about it.”
“As if the idea of you staying in Florida for the next year hasn’t crossed my mind? I’ve thought about it. I’ve thought about it a lot. I just never imagined it’d be something you’d want.”
“I didn’t either, until I went too long without seeing you. Piper, I don’t want to say goodbye anytime soon.”
She takes my face in her hands. “Then don’t. Stay in Florida. Stay with me.”