15. Ava
AVA
Six days until OA Con
I’m almost one hundred percent certain that Declan is flirting with me.
Or, like, ninety-eight percent. But still.
The likelihood seems pretty high, because honestly—no one’s hands accidentally brush that many times over the course of an hour, even if they are stealing onion rings and fries off each other’s plates while trying (and failing) to be Bond-level stealthy.
And let’s not forget the knee bumps.
The bench we’re sitting on is wide enough for three ample-sized humans, and yet Declan’s knee has bumped mine no less than seventeen times.
I know, because my entire leg starts humming every time it happens.
And once I almost spilled my entire glass of Unicorn Blood (7 Up and maraschino cherries) across The Settlers of Catan tiles while attempting to build a road out of sheep (I had to trade eight of those suckers for a measly pair of brick and wood).
To top it all off, there’s this subtle difference in the way he says things, like if I only listen close enough I’ll discover some kind of hidden code woven between the words.
And the closer I get to unraveling it, the more wildly my heart flutters about my chest. It’s confusing and a little unsettling, but also exhilarating.
Could I do it?
Could I make the leap from friends to more than with Declan?
I glance over my shoulder at him, where he stands contemplating the game shelves alongside Hiro.
His expression is so serious as he examines the various titles, occasionally asking a question or commenting on something to Hiro.
It’s adorable. But then he reaches up to grab a box off the top shelf, and his T-shirt slides just high enough for a sliver of back to peek out, and adorable goes straight out the window.
Declan is legit hot.
Thankfully my phone buzzes with an incoming text before any drool can escape my mouth, and I whip it out like a lifeline, desperate for any kind of distraction. Well, you know what they say—be careful what you wish for. Because of course the text is from none other than Mr. Dad of the Year.
Dad: Hey hon, your mom said she talked to you about calling me back, but I still haven’t heard from you. Call me, we need to talk.
Blarg. I guess I’m going to have to. It’s either that or have him keep bugging my mom to be the go-between, and she so doesn’t need that noise in her life.
Me: Out with friends. Will try to call later tonight.
The three little dots instantly pop up, and I brace myself for his response.
Dad: Sounds great! I’ve been turning my ringer off at 9 (6 your time) since Becky’s been going to sleep pretty early, so if for some reason I miss your call, I’ll try to catch you after school tomorrow.
I finally agree to call him back, and now he’s got stipulations? For some reason, this makes me even more annoyed, and I jam the cell back into my jeans’ pocket with a vengeance.
“Everything okay?”
I look up to find Declan standing beside me, his brow furrowed with concern.
I shake my head. “It’s fine, just… Dad stuff.
I don’t know.” Just mentioning Dad around Declan feels weird, given how close the three of us were back in the “before.” He had almost as big an influence on Declan as he did me.
Heck, he was the one who taught Declan how to make his first duct tape pattern.
He’s the reason I haven’t invited Declan to my house.
Why I told my mom I’d be out with Stasia all afternoon.
Why I’m not entirely sure I can be more than friends.
I swallow back a lump of emotion and nod toward the games. “Find anything worthy of following up Settlers?”
Declan cocks his head, and for a moment I don’t think he’s going to let the dad comment slide without further question, but then his lips quirk up in a smile. “I was leaning toward Mexican Train, but Hiro wants to play Headbandz. Care to be the tiebreaker?”
“Definitely Headbandz. My brain is too fried to learn anything new.”
“If you’re tired, I can order a ride and take you home. We’ve already been here for two hours, and you weren’t even planning on coming in the first place.” Declan winces. “Not to mention the four of us can be a bit much when we’re together.”
“Please. Your friends are hilarious. And besides”—I wiggle my brows—“it’s almost time for the musical act to begin. The Merry Minstrels? No way I’m missing that. What if they play the lute? Or one of those handheld harps? Or—gasp—both? It could be the show of the century up in here.”
“Wow.” Declan laughs. “That does sound epic.”
“Right?” I grin. “Definitely worth sticking around for.”
Something flickers over Declan’s face, but it’s gone before I can properly analyze it. He nods across the room toward our booth, where Zeke and Bailey are currently snuggled together, laughing over something on one of their phones. “Shall we?”
“Yeah, let me just hit the bathroom real quick, and I’ll meet you over there.”
Declan nods solemnly. “Good idea. One can’t properly frolic to minstrel music with a full bladder.”
“I’m assuming we’re the frolickers in this instance?”
“Obviously.”
“Excellent. I’ve been needing a good frolic.”
“Who hasn’t?”
I laugh, shaking my head while I push through the heavy wooden door to the women’s room.
It dies when my phone once again buzzes with an incoming text.
I really don’t want to think about Dad right now, but I check it anyway, just in case it’s from Mom.
When I see it’s from Stasia, I let out a sigh of relief.
Relief which quickly withers upon reading.
Stasia: CODE RED! I ran into your mom at the grocery store while Ben and I were getting snacks for movie night.
She seemed to think you were with me? Guessing you haven’t told her about helping Declan with OA Con yet.
I maaaay have panicked, and told her we bumped into Tyler, and the two of you went out for fro yo. Sorry! You know how bad I am at improv.
She really is. We took drama class together freshman year, and she barely scraped by with a B-. Thinking on her feet is not one of her strong points. Still, it would have been nice if she’d come up with something a little less specific in this case. And with less Tyler involvement.
Me: No worries, I’ll figure something out. Thanks for the heads up.
Stasia: Good luck!
A little luck would be nice right about now, but the realist in me knows I’m looking at two less-than-desirable choices.
Option A: I go home and tell Mom the truth about everything.
The convention, working with Declan, all of it.
Which, to be fair, is hardly scandalous.
Aside from the lying bit, all I was really doing was helping an old friend.
The caveat? She sees this sudden change in behavior as some kind of weird win for Dad.
Rational? Hardly. Possible and potentially triggering? Absolutely.
Which leaves me with option B: Heap more lies onto the mountain I’m already feeding her.
My stomach churns just thinking about it, but what am I supposed to do?
I can hardly call Tyler and ask him out for frozen yogurt, even if that would, technically, make Stasia’s lie an almost truth.
Maybe if Tyler were a jerk I wouldn’t mind so much, but he’s sweet and thoughtful and I would be an absolute heel if I went and led him on like that.
I should just tell her the truth. Rip off the BandAid and deal with the fallout if, and when, it comes.
I put my phone away and stare into the bathroom mirror. “It’s going to come out eventually,” I whisper. “These things always do.”
But what if—?
“No.” I glare at my reflection, hands gripping the counter’s porcelain edge. “No more what-ifs. You’re going to go home and have an honest conversation with your mother.”
I take a deep breath in, slowly let it out.
No more lies.
I nod into the mirror and spin on my heel, heading for the door with purposeful strides.
They slow when I approach the booth, chest squeezing at the sight of everyone laughing and donning brightly-colored headbands.
They look ridiculous, but no one cares. They’re completely at ease with each other, and my heart aches to be a part of it all.
Not that I want to replace Stasia and my other friends; I love them too.
But the innocent geekiness dancing back and forth across the table calls to my very soul.
Reinforcing the decision I’ve already made.
I want this.
But first, the hard part.
“Hey, guys.”
Declan’s face is bright as he looks over at me, the red pirate headband already nestled amongst his mass of dark brown hair, but something in my expression must betray my nervousness, because it immediately dampens into concern. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, I just… something came up, and I need to be getting home. Sorry.”
If I put this off, I may never find the courage again.
Declan scoots to the edge of the booth. “No problem, let me just order a ride real quick. I’ll go with you.”
“No, please.” I hold out my hands to stall him. “You should stay and frolic.”
He frowns, frozen halfway out of the booth. “But—”
“Seriously, stay. I’ve already got a driver on the way. Female, highly rated. I’ll be fine.”
“If you’re sure.” Declan doesn’t look sure at all.
“Totally sure.” I look around at the rest of the table, mustering up a smile. “This was a lot of fun. Thanks so much for inviting me.”
There’s a chorus of goodbyes, and I wave and slip away before Declan can insist on coming with me. While part of me wants that very thing, the bigger part is saying this is something I need to do on my own.
I pause in the doorway, casting one last glance over my shoulder. I’ll be back, and next time, I’ll stay all the way until the end. Wait and see.
I repeat that promise over and over in my head like a mantra as the driver takes me home, nerves ratcheting higher with each tick of the odometer. By the time I step out onto my front walk, they’re wound as tight as a drum.
My hands shake as I punch in the key code and open the front door.