Chapter 21 Playlist All the Small Things
I FIND GREGORY IN the produce section stacking oranges. It’s like the first time I saw him here, except now he’s building a perfectly shaped pyramid just like I taught him.
When he looks up and sees me, I pause dramatically and place a hand over my heart. “I have nothing left to teach you.”
He grins, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Not too shabby, huh?”
“That might be better than I could do.”
I know right away that offering up a compliment so easily was a step too far, because he narrows his eyes. Eyes that look wary and tired, smudged with dark circles underneath. “What are you doing?”
I shrug. “Just bored.”
He’s not convinced. “You’re a terrible liar, Amelia.”
“Hey,” I object. “That’s not nice.”
One dark brow arches. “It’s not? Is it considered a good thing to be a good liar?”
“Well,” I flounder. “No. But it’s not nice to call me out when I came all the way here just to check on you.”
The second brow joins the first. “Check on me? Why?”
“Your texts. They seemed sad.”
He rolls his eyes like that’s ridiculous, but we both know it’s true. “I’m fine,” he says.
“Now who’s the bad liar?”
Gregory ignores that. And then, apparently, decides to ignore me.
He lets out a sigh so deep, I feel it in my own chest. He resumes stacking.
I stand there for a long moment, considering.
Should I leave him alone? Give him some space?
I’m not sure if that’s what he wants, but it goes against my instincts.
I’m not going to make him tell me what’s going on, but I want him to know I’m here and available if he decides he wants to talk.
So I sidle up next to him and start on the other side.
We finish the orange display, and I wait while he goes to the back for apples.
At one point he tries to tell me, “You don’t have to do this,” but the glare I send him must do the trick, because he doesn’t say another word.
When we’re done with restocking, I slip to the bulletin board posted in the back hallway and look at the schedule.
Gregory gets off at seven, which is only fifteen minutes away, so I camp out in the break room to wait next to the time clock.
Three minutes after seven, he comes in. He says nothing as he slips off his vest and shoves it into a locker, then swipes his badge through the machine. His back is to me, and he stands there for a beat, as if preparing himself. Finally he turns to face me, arms crossed.
“Well?” he asks. “What are we doing?”
I stand and walk straight past him to the door. “I’m taking you to my favorite place in Kingfisher Cove.”
“The music store?” he asks from behind me, following just like I hoped he would.
“I do love it there,” I say, “but that’s not the vibe right now.”
“Vibe for what?” he asks.
I don’t answer directly. “It’s where I like to go when I want peace and quiet, or when I just want to think.”
Soon we spill out onto the sidewalk and start walking. The sun’s on its way down, and it won’t be long before it blankets Kingfisher Cove in an orange glow.
“How’d Waffles do at your place?” I ask. “Did your mom freak out?”
“Surprisingly, no,” he says. “The only thing she was mad about was that he wouldn’t let her anywhere near him.
For weeks I’ve been trying to get him to let me hold him, and lo and behold all I needed to do was kidnap him and take him home.
He didn’t leave my lap the entire drive home, and after I went inside, he started howling and scratching when I tried to put him down. ”
“Aw,” I say. “You’re his safe place.”
“Made going to the bathroom a challenge,” he jokes, but it sounds halfhearted.
“I didn’t need to know that.”
“I kind of want to keep him,” Gregory says.
I won’t lie, I hoped that might happen. I worried about what would happen to the sweet but nervous cat when I realized it was unlikely he’d be reunited with Fiona.
She’ll need to stay with the kittens until they’re weaned, and Dr. Valentine hopes to adopt them all out, Fiona included, when that happens.
I smile at him. “I think that would make him very happy.”
“I think my mom’s on board too,” he says. “She said he reminds her of a cat she had growing up. I just hope he’ll warm up to her, too. It’s gonna drive her crazy if she can’t make him like her.”
“I mean, I don’t blame her,” I say. “It’s been super annoying that he picked you as his favorite.”
Gregory shrugs. “I’ve been more patient with him.”
“I was patient!”
He shakes his head, grinning at me. This one feels real.
“You tried, but you gave up on him too quick. Especially every time the other one would come out and distract you.” Gregory tips his head up, and the way the fading sun touches his face makes me wish I had my camera with me.
“I decided early on, I’d sit there for as long as it took.
I knew if I waited and didn’t rush things, it would be worth it in the end. ”
Something flutters beneath my ribs and sinks deep into my bones. I don’t really know how to respond. Gregory doesn’t seem bothered by my sudden silence, and we walk quietly for several minutes. I nudge him to turn left at a stop sign, and we transfer from the sidewalk to the sand.
“Why did you approach me?” I blurt out. “That first night. At the bonfire.” It’s something I’ve always wondered about.
He shrugs, which I don’t accept as an answer.
“You sort of looked at me like you thought you knew me,” I add. I glance up at him, walking tall beside me, and find him watching me.
A hesitant, sorrowful sort of smile tugs at his lips. “A sad person knows another sad person when he sees one.”
Well. That knocks the breath out of me. “I wasn’t sad.”
“Amelia. Come on.”
My shoulders fall. As Gregory pointed out, I’m a terrible liar. And even though there are very few people who can, I think this guy can read me like a book. “Okay, fine. I was. I was also kind of mad.”
“Yeah, I got that.”
I glare at him.
He laughs. “I kind of liked it.”
“Sass does it for you, huh?” I’ve noticed that the more we’ve hung out. He smiles more when I’m in a feisty mood. Which is often when I’m with him.
His gaze is on the sand in front of us when he replies. “Coming from the right girl, it does.”
I’m too scared to ask what he means by that.
Gregory has mercy on me and changes the subject. “So have you heard from Kat lately?”
“Yesterday, actually,” I say. “It was the first time she called me in forever. She’s kind of been ignoring me.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. At the beginning of the summer, I really thought we’d stay in touch. Almost like she was still here. But after so many unanswered messages, or responses that came days later, it was clear I’m not a priority for her. I’d almost given up on her.”
“Like, gave up the friendship?” he asks, sounding surprised.
I frown, turning that over in my mind for a few seconds.
“No… At least, I don’t think so. I talked to my mom about it, and she thinks Kat’s just swept up in the excitement of something new and different.
Which makes sense, I guess. Her new school is big and has all sorts of stuff going on even in the summer, and there are a lot of girls our age in the tennis program.
The town’s a lot bigger, so there’s always something going on.
I decided maybe she needs some time to figure out how she fits into it all. I’m just giving her space to do that.”
I’m surprised at how reasonable it all sounds. I don’t mention that it has also made it easier for me to justify not telling her about Myles. If we don’t talk that much, I haven’t had many opportunities, have I?
I pause to pick up a green piece of sea glass, and Gregory says, “Sounds like a load of crap to me.”
I straighten and twist around to stare at him.
“What?” he asks, unmoved by my shock. “You’re being way too nice about it. She’s being a shitty friend, and I think we should call it what it is. You wouldn’t treat her that way, and you deserve better.”
Something lodges in my throat. I open my mouth, then close it again.
Yes, I’ve occasionally had thoughts along those lines this summer, but I’ve tried not to let them stick.
I’m not sure if it’s because I don’t want to believe Kat’s moved on (and so quickly) or because I’m trying to justify her actions as non-shitty so I can tell myself that what I’m doing with Myles isn’t shitty either.
We’re both making the best of the new opportunities presented to us, right? What’s wrong with that?
Whether he’s right or not, having Gregory in my corner makes something pleasant bloom in my chest.
“Well…,” I start, and hold out the rounded piece of glass. He takes it and drops it into his pocket. “Thank you. And, um… thank you for coming up to me at that party. I’m glad you did.”
I can’t look at him when I say it, but I hear the smile in his voice when he replies.
“Yeah. I am too.”