15. MJ #2
I feel like I’m floating on a cloud for most of Saturday, reliving Friday and every moment spent with Mac.
It still feels a little surreal, but then my phone will ping with a text from him, reminding me that it was very real.
My cheeks heat when I look at the most recent message from him, which includes a picture of the backseat of his car and a “wish you were here” text. Dirty boy.
Perusing the Digital Marketing program at Caracrest, I see that I only need a semester’s worth of classes to get the degree on top of my business degree.
The university offers the classes online, so I could easily stay in Oakridge to complete them.
Since I’ve been home, I’ve realized I don’t want to leave this small town.
A s annoying as the rumor mill can be, I love it here.
I won’t lie and say Mac isn’t part of the reason I want to stay, because I definitely want to give this a fair shot, whatever this is.
The document I intend to bring to my parents about my future plans is now four pages deep.
I have the beginning of a plan that I think they’ll go for.
Mom and Dad have always supported me but I’ve also always gone along with the path we decided on together.
It feels weird going against something that we all agreed on, so I want to be able to show them why it’s a good plan and why I think it’ll be best for me.
I take a quick shower and freshen up before heading out to meet Shannon at Hal’s after she practically begged me to come see her while she works so I could check out the scene.
I’m not sure what kind of scene I’m going to be walking into considering it’s Oakridge, but I’m kind of excited to find out.
Kelsea Ballerini’s “This Feeling” blares through the speakers as I push my way into Hal’s.
Despite being in a small town, the bar is packed.
I spot Shannon working behind the bar and make my way through the crowd to an empty seat.
She greets me with a smile and yells over the music, “Yay, you’re here! ”
“Yep, I’m here! This place is popping!” I yell back.
Shannon nods and then slams a shot glass on the counter in front of me.
“Lemon drop to get you started.” I pick up the glass off the sti cky counter.
I should have known she’d get me drinking.
Shooting the lemon drop with a grimace, I slide the shot glass back to her.
Lemon drops are fun, but the lemon is always too sour for me.
In return she slides me something in a lowball glass.
The drink is purple on ice. A lemon dipped in sugar is stuck to the rim. At least it looks cute.
“What’s this?” I yell to Shannon.
“Just taste it! You’ll like it!” I sniff the drink. Shannon knows me pretty well, and she rarely steers me wrong with drinks or food. I take a sip and a moan slips from my lips. “Told ya!” She winks at me and then works her way down the bar, helping other customers.
I sip on my drink, still not knowing what’s in it, but it tastes good.
Watching Shannon work and taking in the bar crowd around me, I sink into my seat, getting comfortable.
Shannon stops by here and there, plopping drink number three in front of me and we take a moment to chit-chat.
Mostly she gives me pointed looks and asks me how Friday night went after Mac and I left.
I tell her about the creek and kiss but leave out the dry humping in his car.
That part can wait until I’m not sitting at the bar surrounded by too many people who would be quick to spread the word.
A few hours pass, and the crowd dissipates. Shannon is wiping down the bar and I’ve switched to water with lemon so I can sober up before heading home.
“My dad is pissed at me,” I share, no longer needing to yell over the music and voices. Shannon looks up at me, tilting her head as she rinses out glasses. “He thinks I shouldn’t be spending my time wi th a boy like Mac .” I make air quotes with my hands for the last part.
Shannon rolls her eyes and walks toward me, drying the glass she just finished washing. “Girl, you know he’s just salty because of the trial.” I nod, taking a sip of my water. “It sucks too, because we all know Mac’s not a bad guy. Hard to believe he robbed the liquor store, really,” she adds.
“Right?!” I yell and Shannon snorts.
“I get it, though. Your dad just wants what’s best for you.” I roll my eyes dramatically. I’m so tired of everyone thinking they know what’s best for me and not trusting that I know that. “So, what are you going to do?”
My phone pings with a text.
MAC: When do I get to see you again?
Smiling at my phone, I look up at Shannon. “I’m gonna do what I want.”
ME: Whatcha doin tomorrow? ??
June 23
I park my Jeep in front of Spoon early Sunday morning and climb out.
Peaking across the street, I see Mac working in the garage.
As if he feels my eyes on him, he turns and smiles at me.
He grabs a rag to wipe his hands off and picks something up off the workbench before jogging across the street to me.
“Hey,” he breathes when he gets close enough.
“Hi,” I whisper. He pla ces his hand on my hip and pulls me to him to kiss my cheek, which is now flushed.
“This is for you.” He hands me a worn paperback and I instantly flip through it hunting for his handwriting.
“No, no, read it later. Not out here.” Though I’m not sure why he wouldn’t want me to read it out here, I still nod and plop it into my tote bag.
Mac turns us toward the door to Spoon and slides his hand down my arm to lace his fingers with mine.
Holding the door open but not letting my hand go, he guides me inside.
The bell dings and Sophie turns toward us. Her eyes widen as she takes us in, standing there hand-in-hand, before she squeals so freaking loudly that Beck comes flying out from the back, her face filled with panic. “Is the baby coming? Are you okay?”
Sophie smacks her with a towel she previously had draped over her shoulder.
“Dude, I’m only five months pregnant. This baby better not be coming yet, crazy pants.
” She nods her head toward us as we walk toward the counter with our fingers still interlaced.
Beck turns to look at us and her face splits in two.
She side-eyes her best friend and they share a conspiratorial smile.
Sophie and Beck turn back to the counter without another word to us. I look at Mac, but he shrugs, not knowing what they’re up to either. The whir of the bean grinder fills the space while the espresso machine hisses next to it. Sophie and Beck are busy making something back there.
They turn to us together an d display our usual drinks, except each is topped with little whipped-cream hearts. Mac barks out a laugh as he reaches for his wallet.
“No, no.” Beck stops him. “Not today. It’s on us.”
“Are you sure?” we ask in unison.
“Consider it a fucking-finally gift from us.” Beck laughs and Mac shakes his head, but we both accept our drinks, smiling ear-to-ear.
“I gotta get back to the shop.” Mac leans into me, pressing his lips softly to mine, and I swear Beck is going to need to pull out the mop bucket because I’ve officially melted into a puddle. He pulls away and smiles. “I’ll text you.”
“Later,” I whisper breathlessly. My eyes burn into his back as he walks out the door, the bell dinging overhead.
“Girl, you need to spill. Right now.” Sophie gives me a pointed look when I turn back to her and Beck. I sip my chai as I fill them in on my Friday night with Mac.
“So, are you guys officially together now?” Sophie asks.
I shrug in response because honestly, I’m not sure.
I want to be, but I also know with the way things went with my dad and how the town seemed to react to us just out together on Friday.
We might need to keep things quiet for a bit.
I say as much to the girls, rubbing my lips together and looking down at my feet.
“Sugar.” I look up at Beck. “Don’t you dare let what other people think keep you from happiness.
You two—” she sighs. “You two have been on this cliff, too afraid to jump for so long now. What’s stopping you, really?
” Tears flood my eyes, and I have to take a steadying breath to keep them from falling when I shake my head.
Really, nothi ng is stopping me besides what other people think.
And that’s not a good enough reason; I know that.
Beck walks around the counter, standing in front of me.
“Okay then.” She places both hands on my shoulders. “Jump, baby girl. Jump in with your whole heart and see what happens.” Her smile is genuine and eases the doubts that were swirling in my head. I nod as she pulls me into a hug and I see Sophie smiling, with tears in her eyes, behind her.
“Oh, hush. It’s the hormones, okay?” she blubbers. I extend my arm out and she shuffles around the counter to join in on the hug. While hugging the two women who are practically my older sisters, I decide: I’m going to jump into whatever this is with Mac, heart first.
Later that day, I tuck myself up against the wall of the window-seat in the library with the book Mac gave me. Light streams through the window, fading as a cloud blocks the sun.
In my excitement, I hadn’t noticed what book he handed me, but looking at the cover, I now realize it’s one of the last books we read together.
I flip through the pages, quickly identifying Mac’s scribbled handwriting.
His penmanship is much nicer than many other guys’.
It’s easy enough to read but lacks the bubbly curves of mine.
He never uses tabs but about midway through, right around when the main characters realize they’re f alling in love, I notice something that’s not like Mac.
Next to a quote where the female main character confesses there is a bond between her and the male lead, Mac has doodled two hearts linked.
Beside a passage about removing armor to let light in—being soft yet strong for the one you love—he’s underlined it multiple times, added a heart, and doodled a knight in armor with a piece falling off.
Deeper into the book, when the main characters take their relationship to a physical level, Mac has written “SOON” with a heart doodled next to it.
Holy . Shit . I try not to giggle as I see he’s made some kind of notation during all the steamy scenes, but my heart tugs when I see the cute doodles next to the sentimental stuff.
I finish flipping through the book and close it, hugging it to my chest. Happiness wells up, forming tears. I’ve missed him. I’ve missed annotating with him like this—seeing his vulnerable side. I wonder if he even realizes that’s what annotating is: a way to be vulnerable with each other.
Pulling out my phone, I snap a selfie and send it to him with a thank you note. I don’t think he realizes what a gift he’s given me by opening up this side of him again.