17. Lottie
seventeen
Lottie
Bodan walks me to my car with his hands tucked into the pockets of his blazer. We stop beside my door. “Well,” he says, smiling in a careful way, “goodnight, girlfriend.”
“Goodnight,” I echo, cringing as I try to ignore that other word.
I’m very aware of the keys clutched in my hand.
The moment feels so unbelievably awkward.
He reaches out and brushes a loose strand of hair away from my face.
I get it—it’s a sweet gesture, meant to show me he notices me—but I turn my head at the same moment my phone rings.
He lifts his hand in a small wave, stepping back. “Text me tomorrow, and we’ll talk about the parade.”
“I will.” I climb into my car, shutting the door with more force than necessary, and answer the ringing phone.
“Hello?”
There’s silence.
Oh, wait—no. Muffled voices.
“Dude, I know she’s your sister, but I think about her all the time,” the voice says.
“I tell myself it’s just a crush and it’ll pass …
” It muffles for a bit and then cuts back in, “But then I see her like that, and it hits me that it’s not just a phase.
It’s her. It’s always been her. For years.
I don’t even remember a time when it wasn’t her—”
My stomach drops when I recognize another voice. Ham cuts him off, and I grip the phone so hard my knuckles ache.
I know the other voice too!
Oh, my!
That’s totally Ty!
Oh, my Ty!
I should not be listening to this!
What even is this?
Is this a prank?
Everything muffles again but I can’t stop listening. After a good minute, I hear, “Hello? Lottie, are you there?”
“No,” I say quickly, then burst out laughing because clearly, I’m here. “I mean, yeah, I’m waiting for you. You called me, but you didn’t say anything.”
“I didn’t call you,” Ty rushes out, but then adds in a cautious voice, “How long have you been waiting?”
“Not that long,” I quip, then bite my lip hard.
“Did you hear anything—”
“No,” I interrupt, but my voice is forced and strained. “What did you want?”
He clears his throat. “I didn’t mean to call you. Must’ve been a butt dial. I was sitting on my sweatshirt.”
“Okay. That’s fine. I better go. I’m driving. You know, I should pay attention to the road.” It’s not like he can see me, but to prove my point, I crank my engine, shift my car into gear, and pull out.
“Yeah. Talk later.”
We hang up, and I drop my phone onto the passenger seat like it’s a burning lump of coal. I robotically take all the turns I need to get home, but I remember none of them, because my mind keeps replaying what I just heard Tyson say to Ham.
It was muffled, but not so muffled that I couldn’t make it out.
He said he thinks about me.
He has for years.
I thought I was alone in my feelings for him, but I guess not…
I’m dead.
An hour later, I pull into my driveway, not remembering a single thing about the drive. I park and step out of the car. Something shuffles behind me, and I don’t even need to look to know it’s a goat—one that isn’t in his pen—coming up to greet me.
“Seriously?”
I slowly turn. Sure enough, Crunch is trotting toward me. I’m in a mood and yell, even though I never yell at my goats.
“Get in your pen!”
My heart won’t slow as I chase him across the yard.
All I can think about is what I heard.
All I can feel is my heart slamming against my chest, sending little ripples through my veins. Each one feels like it is changing me.
Changing what I thought I knew.
About myself.
About Ty.
And now, as I run after this goat like my life depends on it, my whole life flashes before my eyes.
It’s the oldest story in the world.
One day you’re driving home from work, and your brother’s best friend is just your shy brother’s best friend, the one you’ve known for years.
Sure, you have a crush on him, but that’s cliché.
And he’s off-limits because he’s your brother’s best friend, and he’s a hockey player your mom hates, and okay, he’s hot but he’s definitely not into you.
Then suddenly everything rearranges.
All my memories.
All my emotions.
I press my hand to my chest.
He likes me back.
I didn’t imagine that.
Just like I didn’t imagine we almost kissed that one time.
A lump swells in my throat.
Oh my Ty. Apparently, that’s my new slogan or something. I sort of love it. I whisper it out loud, loving the way his name sounds when it rolls out of my lips, “Oh my Ty…”