Chapter 12
Green leaves give way to golds and oranges as fall creeps across the campus.
And avoiding Carter becomes something I realize I can’t do. I rejoin the committee. I sign up to volunteer. I do my best to present myself as a worthy daughter of the founding family.
To only make small ripples.
And I stop ignoring Carter, mostly because he’s everywhere.
At dinner with Linden. At the Inheritance Committee meetings, where my presence is mandatory. At the library where I study.
And now he’s in my dorm room.
When I open the door to the room, Carter sits on my bed looking at the desk that doubles as a nightstand. He picks up a framed picture of Grandee and my mother from when they were younger with red yarn wrapped around it.
Nine times. The number is very important.
I’ve seen Carter sitting on my bed so many times like this before. The same bed I pressed my face into when I thought I would never breathe again because he was gone. When all I wanted was another chance to feel his hand in mine. And now he’s here.
And I still can’t touch him.
“Is this your grandma?” Carter says by way of greeting.
Instead of I’m so sorry for invading your private space and going through your things without permission.
I set my bag down by the door and let it shut behind me, trapping me and Carter in a confined space.
“Yeah,” I tell him and take it from his hands, gently setting it back where it belongs.
“She looks cool.”
She is cool, but I don’t tell him that.
“Sorry that I’m sitting on your bed.” He looks up at me, and it almost feels like he’s flirting. “But I’m waiting.”
“Waiting?”
He nods but doesn’t look away, and heat blooms in my stomach. Followed by an ache in my chest.
“For me?” I ask.
He gives me a bright smile and shakes his head. “I’m waiting for Linden.”
I’m blushing, I can feel it, so I roll my eyes and hope that covers up my embarrassment.
“Why is there all that string wrapped around it?”
I feel defensive suddenly, and it’s so foreign in my body. I can remember when nothing Carter said made me feel that way.
My face rests in the crook of Carter’s neck as we lie on my bed. His cologne, and something else that is just him, surrounds me.
“What’s with the string?”
I smile into him, excited to share this. “It’s not string; it’s yarn.”
“What’s the difference?” He asks it almost like a joke.
“A lot.” My voice has a playful whine. “Grandee makes the yarn, and she would kill you if you called it string. She says it keeps people in the moment. Present.”
“Yarn?”
“Grandee believes…” I stop myself from saying the truth as I know it and disguise it in something else. “She’s superstitious. Thinks the red keeps us from drifting to other … places.”
He gives me a smile, one that makes me think he’s laughing with me instead of at me. “What happens if you drift off to another place?”
“Everything changes.”
Grandee has been telling me my whole life that the Monroe women are different.
“Hey!” Linden says, coming out of the bathroom. “You’re here.”
I nod at her and try to keep my gaze from Carter’s while I grab my ID card from the nightstand. “Just heading out.”
“You don’t want to come to dinner?”
“No. I need to go to the Big Dipper for the fundraiser,” I tell her.
Since I missed the sign-up for the Inheritance Committee volunteer hours, I was assigned to an after-school program at a local ice-cream shop. The one Benji works for.
“Right. Have fun with Benji.” The way she says it feels a little off. And I’m not sure when it happened, but there seems to be a divide between Linden and me. Nothing glaringly obvious, but it’s like a pebble in my shoe, something I can’t seem to ignore.
I think about it my entire walk across campus.
The Big Dipper is appropriately star themed, and all the ice creams have celestial names like Milky Way and Ursa Major.
Sagittarius is mint chocolate chip, and when I ask why, Benji tells me because people either love it or hate it, like Sags.
The inside of the store is dark blue with silver constellations painted on the walls and ceiling. The ice-cream cases are gold and lit from the floor to look like they glow, and the tables and chairs scattered in the space are all black with glitter paint on top.
I’d only come in here once or twice before … or maybe I haven’t? Hadn’t? I’m still having a hard time understanding … everything.
Benji stands at the counter with a frown and his hands on his hips. “Good. You’re here on time.”
“Yep.” Because I’m not sure what to say, exactly. Being on time really feels like the bare minimum.
“Ready?” He motions for me to join him through a door that says STAR-CATCHING EMPLOYEES ONLY.
A white folding table, with five black chairs pushed underneath it, and a giant steel refrigerator door, with a lever handle to the walk-in, are the only things in the cramped space at the back of the store.
Sitting at the table is Max Emerson. His hands are stained with paint, and he has a flick of white plaster behind his ear.
When he sees me, he looks up with a nod instead of a greeting, almost like he’s embarrassed to be here, too.
“Hey,” I say to him. “What are you doing here?”
His smile is tight when he responds. “Same as you. New-volunteer orientation.”
I don’t remember his name on the sign-up sheet, but it makes sense. This is the one slot that worked best with our studio hours.
Before I can respond, Benji sets a giant manual down with a thud.
“Welcome to the Star Team,” he tells us in the most unwelcoming tone possible. “Let’s stop wasting time and begin with employee training.”
“We aren’t employees,” Max says.
“Rule number one. No fraternization.” He looks between Max and me as he waits for the words to land.
My face heats, and I have no idea why.
“Got it—I can’t sleep with you,” Max jokes to Benji, who rolls his eyes. “Also, we are not employees.”
“As if I would sleep with you. Rule number two: On time is ten minutes late. Ten minutes early is on time. And volunteering to pick up a shift means you get to keep your job.”
“I feel like you’re not fully grasping that we don’t work here.” Max crosses his arms and leans back in his chair.
I clear my throat. “And I’m one hundred percent sure that all the things you just said are illegal.”
Benji doesn’t even break stride as he passes out two sets of papers stapled together.
“Here is our list of ice creams.” He leans over the table, looking Max and me in the eye, one after the other, like he’s going to tell us the most important information of our lives.
“You are never ever to refer to them as anything else. If you call Asteroid Delight Rocky Road, you’re fired. ”
“Can’t be fired. Still not an employee.” Max flips through the papers absently.
“If you call Sunbeam Vanilla, you’re fired.”
Benji cannot be serious.
“If you refer to Saturn as Caramel Ribbon—”
“Let me guess—we’re fired,” I grumble.
Max sits up straighter. “For someone who basically begged his friends to come volunteer here, you’re making it hard for us to want to do you a favor.”
Benji scoffs. “Gainful employment where you contribute to society isn’t a favor to anyone.”
“Volunteers.” Max says the word slowly. “We … are … volunteers.”
Benji points at the list. “Memorize it and I’ll be back.”
He walks out the door, leaving Max and me alone.
There is an infinite amount of time that feels like Max and I sit in silence. I’m not even really reading the list of ice creams when Max clears his throat and shifts forward on his chair.
I decide to break the awkward tension. “I didn’t know you picked the ice-cream shop.”
He nods slowly. “Yeah. Looks like Benji got to us both.”
“Actually, ice-cream scooping is a passion of mine. I’m hoping it will lead to a future career in creamery work.”
The corner of Max’s mouth rises, and I recognize a feeling of pride at making him smile. Only seconds before I feel annoyance at myself. What do I care what Max thinks? Why do I even want to joke around with him?
I don’t. The answer is I don’t.
“Is it a conflict of interest to work with someone that you are also in charge of at school?” I ask.
“Only if you try to bribe me with ice cream for special privileges in the studio.”
I roll my eyes.
“I think the more conflicting interest is being friends,” he says.
Friends. I can’t help the shock on my face. I don’t know if the word friend has ever crossed my mind when it comes to him.
A horrified look crosses his features. “I mean, because your cousin is one of my best friends and Benji and…”
He doesn’t say Carter’s name.
Maybe that’s a small change that can make a difference. Being Max’s friend. Maybe that will make this time different.
I smile and hope it looks approachable. “Yeah, I could see how us being friends would make it weird for you to be my teacher.”
His brows bunch together. “I’m not your teacher. I don’t even have access to your grades. I’m literally just in charge of the schedule.”
And now I’m confused.
After a moment that goes on too long, he looks down at the paper and asks, “What is Nebula Madness?”
“Cotton candy ice cream with chunks of marshmallow.”
He leans back and looks at me, impressed. “You already memorized the list?”
The past two days I had studied the menu online, wanting to be as prepared as possible, but to be fair, Nebula Madness had sounded equal parts gross and interesting, so it stuck out to me.
“I have a photographic memory.”
“Oh yeah?” he says with a little laugh that rides at the end of it. Max takes the papers from in front of me and asks, “What’s the employee creed here at the Big Dipper?”
Shit. Something about ice cream and smiles. “Smiling and ice cream go hand in hand?”
Max looks like he’s just solved a murder. “Wrong. Every scoop is an opportunity to take someone to the stars with a smile.”
I roll my eyes. “Good thing I’m not an employee.”
He grins. “Good thing.”
Now I lean back in my chair. Max and I are shoulder to shoulder in the tight space, and I try not to notice the soft way our skin touches. “Do you think I’ll get sent home if I fail training?”
“I’m pretty sure you’ll just have to repeat this training until it drives you to insanity.” He says it like he’s said everything else today, nonchalantly, like he hadn’t even thought about it.
But sanity is the only thing I seem to think about recently.
Later, when Benji is testing us on ice cream by sight, the doorbell chimes, and Linden walks in, followed by Carter.
My stomach flips, and without thinking, I step behind Benji and Max.
Carter smiles at us, and Linden playfully shoves his shoulder. He looks back at her and whispers something in her ear before looking back to us. “I heard there were some ice-cream astronauts working here!”
Benji groans. “I told you not to call us that.”
But Max is smiling. He always smiles at Carter. “What are you doing here?”
Carter shrugs. “Thought I would come flirt with the new employees.”
He looks at me when he says it, but I move to the back wall where the giant book of milkshakes is.
Carter and Linden order scoops of ice cream, and Benji decides to use it as a teaching moment.
“I want the new girl to help me,” Carter says. He hasn’t called me Flower since the night at the pool, but he hasn’t stopped flirting with me either. Despite being on what appears to be a date with my cousin.
“My name is still Nieve, and I don’t work here.”
Max lets out a small laugh before he goes to stand in front of him. Linden looks uncomfortable for a moment, but Carter doesn’t seem bothered as he asks Max for Rocket Fuel.
“Can I get a scoop of Shooting Star?” Linden asks me.
I walk right over to the chocolate chip and begin to make her a cone. Benji gives me a satisfied nod, like I’ve done the right thing.
And then the kids show up.
Loud voices and shouts fill the room as the children create a line that snakes all the way to the door.
A little boy wearing Crocs jumps up and down as he looks at all the different options in the case.
One little girl looks completely overwhelmed by the choices as another around my age bends down, trying to help her decide.
In all the chaos, I lose track of Carter and Linden, but halfway through the line, Carter walks up to me with a smile. “Hey, give me your number so I can text you where we are after your shift is over.”
I have Carter’s number memorized, and I’ve thought about texting him nearly every hour of every day. But this was the problem with Carter. I was the problem.
“Linden has it,” I say, scooping out Orion and placing it onto a waffle cone. “She can text me.”
Carter puts a hand on his chest. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you didn’t want me to have it.”
This is the Carter girls love. The one that knows what he wants and never gives up. I loved this Carter. But … something about this interaction sits funny in my mind. “You should go with your gut.”
Carter nods, the kind that’s all bravado and determination. “I know we got off on the wrong foot, but you’ve got to let me make it up to you. Maybe you don’t like me now, but you will.” He hits his fist twice on the top of the counter as he steps backward. “You will.”
As Carter leaves with Linden, I catch Max’s eye. He’s looking at me, confused. Something he seems to be doing a lot. “What?”
“Nothing,” he answers as he goes back to helping the person in front of him.
But it didn’t feel like nothing. It felt like … something.
And I don’t like when I feel something for Max.