Chapter Thirteen Daisy
Thirteen
Daisy
I wake the morning after the party to the faint sound of a click below my window. Scrambling out of bed, I see Georgia in a matching pale blue Alo sports top and bike shorts, blond hair
in a ponytail, slipping out of the house and getting into her car. I know she thinks she’s being stealthy, but she underestimates
me.
We may seem like we’re oblivious, but trust me, little sisters always know.
If she were just going out for morning runs, she wouldn’t be so cautious about waking us up. And she wouldn’t be coming home
with wet hair.
I get back into bed and throw the covers over my eyes for another hour or so. It’s Sunday, after all.
When I finally emerge, Mom and Dave’s bedroom door is still closed—I bet they’re sleeping off hangovers. I trudge down the
stairs and find Eden slumped on the couch in her pajamas, eating a bowl of cereal, staring into space. Eden and I both have
nothing to do today; no Boundless Horizons for her, no tennis club restaurant shift for me.
“Are you okay?” I ask her.
“Huh?” She looks up. “Oh, I’m fine. Some party last night.”
“I thought it was pretty fun.” I plop down next to her. “But what happened to you after Leo left? You just disappeared! I
knocked on your bedroom door later, but you didn’t answer. I figured you must’ve gone to bed.”
Eden blows her bangs out of her face. “I had a lot on my mind.”
“Care to share?”
Eden shakes her head. “There’s nothing to say. Leo did me dirty back then, and he hasn’t changed at all. And he acts like
everything is always my fault. Like I’m the immature one who hasn’t changed.”
“Boys are stupid. Who cares what Leo thinks?”
“True,” she sighs, but I can tell she does care.
“I guess Georgia’s plan to help you get closure backfired,” I observe.
Eden snorts. “Like many of her plans. She wanted to set you up with that guy Benny, then spent all night talking to him herself.”
I shrug. “She probably just wanted someone to flirt with since Rhys couldn’t be there.”
Eden turns to look at me. “Do you think something’s going on between her and Rhys?”
“Like what?”
“Like . . . trouble in paradise?”
That never occurred to me. “Those two are so solid,” I say. “They’ve made it work for almost three years.”
“I know, but now high school’s over.”
“But they’re going to college together,” I point out. “And they literally have their future kids’ names picked out already.
I think they’re a forever thing, I really do.”
“And what’s going on with you and Mateo?” Eden asks.
I start to blush. “I mean, I don’t want to get carried away. It’s just a good time,” I say carefully. “But like, how cute
would it be if we were a couple? Georgia and Rhys, me and Mateo.”
Eden laughs. “Okay, Jane Austen, let’s not go ahead and plan a double wedding just yet.”
“Shut up! I’m not!” But she’s kind of right. I don’t want to get carried away, but I have to admit . . . it’s maybe a bit too late for that.
“So are you guys like officially together, or is it more of a situationship thing?”
I sigh. “I don’t know. Labels are so confusing. It’s only been three days since we kissed. But also, it’s been three amazing days. And last night we realized we met at least once before, when I came to that football game with Georgia and we hung out
with Rhys and him and their whole crew. That was over a year ago, so we’ve technically known each other for more than a year.”
Eden laughs. “I’ve never heard a better example of girl math.”
I nudge her shoulder with my own. “Fine, but still, there’s a connection.”
She wags her eyebrows. “I can see that. But also, Georgia’s right. You should be careful.”
“Why, because he’s older?” I ask. “I can’t believe you’re taking Georgia’s side.”
“Not just that,” Eden counters, setting down her cereal bowl. “Have you thought this through? It could be really awkward.
What if you guys start a relationship and then he breaks your heart, and then you have to be Georgia’s maid of honor in her
wedding to Rhys and there’s Mateo, the guy who broke your heart, standing there as his best man. Have you thought about the
consequences?”
“That sounds like the plot of a fantastic rom-com,” I tell her. “Maybe you’ve been reading too many scripts.” Her dad’s an entertainment lawyer and he sometimes gets
early access to watermarked Hollywood scripts; he’s been known to let Eden peek at them from time to time.
My phone pings and I look down at the text bubble.
Mateo:
Beach day?
“Speak of the devil,” I tell Eden, typing back at the same time. “Mateo wants to go to the beach. Want to come?”
She rolls her eyes. “No, I’m good.”
I look at her. She does not seem good. More like depressed. “Are you sure? Everything’s always more fun when you’re there!” Which is true; usually Eden is the life
of the party. But secretly, all I really want is more alone time with Mateo.
A series of scenes from the past couple of days flash before my eyes: Mateo pulling me aside at the tennis club on Friday and us making out against the wall behind the entrance to the locker rooms. After work, driving back to one of the apple orchards we’d passed on Thursday, and wandering around the rows and rows of trees, talking about nothing—music and college and tennis and just random stuff I can’t even remember.
It got a little chilly and he handed me his oversized sweatshirt, which smelled like him, and I never wanted to take it off.
We went back to the car, and he opened the rear passenger door.
I got in and he got in after me and we kissed lying down on the back seat like in an old movie.
I really didn’t know people actually did that.
It was kind of uncomfortable with all the seat belt sockets poking into my back, but I was too caught up in how good a kisser he is to care.
Then, yesterday at the party, we hung out the entire night, basically as if we were already a couple.
“Daisy?” Eden says, waving a hand in my face.
“Sorry,” I breathe, blushing again.
“Go upstairs and change. Trust me, I’m fine. I need a day of couch rotting anyway,” she says, grabbing the TV remote.
“Doth my ears hear the phrase couch rotting?” Dave says from the stairs, where he and Mom are finally emerging in their sweatpants.
Dave’s glasses look crooked on his face—the classic adult I drank too much last night look.
“Our favorite!” Mom says. “But you’re gonna have to share, Eden,” she warns, pushing her butt onto the sofa and tucking Eden’s
feet up onto her lap.
“I’ll run out and get the Sunday paper,” Dave says. “Anyone want anything? Fritter, Daisy?”
I’m impressed he already knows my breakfast order. “Not today, actually. I’m heading out. Thanks, though!” I turn back to Eden. “Call me if you change your mind,” I tell her, then run giddily up the stairs, skipping every other one.
I’m standing in the driveway in my black two-piece bathing suit and overalls shorts, a tote bag on my shoulder with a rolled-up
towel and book I’m definitely not going to read.
“Get in, kid,” Mateo says through his open car window. We’ve been driving for a few minutes when he asks, “So should we go
to the beach or do you wanna do something else?”
I shrug. “It’s a great day for swimming; the beach will probably be crowded. Georgia will be there.”
We both know what that means. Georgia doesn’t exactly approve of us hanging out. I push down the insecurity and hurt that I don’t have her support. I really thought she’d be excited for
me to be with one of Rhys’s friends.
“Well, is there somewhere more private we could go?” he asks.
“Actually, yes!” I sit up taller. “There’s a great little swimming hole we used to go to when we were kids. It’s shallow,
and in the summers the current is pretty mellow. You have to hop across these rocks and then there are parts that are deeper.
It’s known about, but not that known. And it’s still early enough in the summer; maybe it won’t be crowded.”
“That sounds amazing,” Mateo says. “How do we get there?”
“Um, I actually have no idea,” I admit, pulling out my phone and scrolling around Maps, hoping to find it.
“Let’s grab some snacks while you figure that out,” he suggests.
My stomach rumbles in response. I forgot to have breakfast. “Yes. Snacks.”
We drive into downtown Laurel and wander the aisles of the Green Frog, the posh little corner grocer, picking up fancy flavored
chips like dill pickle and ketchup, bottles of locally made root beer, and a big bag of candied popcorn.
At the checkout, Mateo grabs a baseball hat that says “The Green Frog” and plops it onto my head. “This looks cute on you.”
The cashier lady looks at us. “Are you buying the hat?”
Mateo nods. “Sure. My treat.”
Our first gift! That must mean something. I grin, carrying our paper bag of snacks out of the store feeling lighter than I’ve
felt in a long time.
We end up having to drive around for an extra forty minutes, getting lost on back roads, but just as I’m about to admit defeat,
we spot a couple of cars parked on the side of the road, at the edge of the woods. And I see a little path that looks vaguely
familiar.
“That’s it! At least, I think that’s it.” I bounce up and down in my seat.
When we get out of the car I know I’m right: Dad used to take us here. The memories flood in, threatening to overwhelm me.
I remember coming here when I was young enough to wear pink inflatable floaty wings. But I blink the memories away, trying
to stay in the lightness I was feeling before.
We carry the snacks and our towels down the narrow path through the trees, birds chirping in the branches overhead, toward the splashing sound of the river.
There’s a couple of women in beach chairs on the shore, watching their two little kids playing at one end of the river, but otherwise the place is totally empty.
We take off our flip-flops and I lead Matteo barefoot across the stones to the other side of the river, where we set down