Chapter Eighteen
When I wake up the next morning, I decide that it’s more than literally the dawn of a new day. It’s the dawn of a new Olive—one who doesn’t let herself mourn stupid guys like Jack Cameron.
New Olive is brave, I remind myself as I slip out of bed, brush my teeth, and yank on a T-shirt and shorts for the day. New Olive is a badass.
I even decide to leave my planner tucked in my suitcase before I head into the kitchen for breakfast. New Olive sometimes hands things to the universe to decide her fate.
That last one is a bit scary, so I have to give myself a few calming breaths as I walk down the hall, but I do it.
I slide onto a stool at the breakfast bar and grab a box of cereal that Ella left out, along with a carton of milk.
Getting myself set up, I take out my phone to idly scroll social media while I start eating, patiently waiting for my sleepy brain to turn on for the day.
“All right.” Tyler claps his hands, causing me to lift my head from where I’m sitting devouring my Lucky Charms. “Let’s get a move on.”
“What exactly is on our agenda today?” I ask as we clean up and then meander down the driveway.
I boost myself into the Jeep. Tyler starts the engine.
Even though I’m a bit wary of spending time just the two of us after so many months apart, I can’t help the excitement bubbling in my stomach at the day that lies ahead.
“We, my dear Olive”—he winks at me as he pulls out of the driveway—“are going to explore the island of O?ahu.”
“Exploring?” I can’t help the playful laugh bursting from my chest as Tyler eases us down the sloped road and toward the main highway. “What do you know about Hawai?i? We got here at literally the same time.”
He scoffs as he makes a turn and picks up speed. The sunroof is open and the windows are rolled down, so the wind whips through the car and swirls my hair around, making it hard to see him. “Give me a little more credit than that. This isn’t the first time I’ve been here.”
I do the math in my head of when his brother and sister-in-law moved to the island. “They’ve only been here a little over a year, Ty.”
Through the floating tendrils of hair coating my face, I see his expression turn sheepish. “Okay, this is my second time here. But I’m still not a total newbie like you are.” He shoots me a triumphant smirk and then starts to roll up the windows when he sees the messy state of my hair.
I dart my arm out and rest it on his bicep, stalling him.
Tiny pinpricks of electricity sprout up where the pads of my fingers rest against his smooth skin, making me shiver involuntarily.
“No, leave it. The air feels nice.” He nods at my request but looks straight ahead at the road, looking as if he’s swallowed a bug. “Is…is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine.” His voice sounds off, but the playfulness is gone, leaving me with an emotion that I’m not really able to process.
Tyler shifts his arm out of my reach, scratching his temple, and I sit back in my seat and watch the tall green mountains and puffy clouds float by as we whip down the highway.
We meander for a while, admiring the sights and the hypnotic blend of modern concrete and steel buildings mingling with the palm fronds and lush hills, the air smelling like both seawater and sunshine.
Finally, after driving around and a lot of window-gazing, my anticipation reaches a boiling point. “Where are we going, seriously?”
The mention of our itinerary seems to bring Tyler right back on track. “First, I figured you’d want to get something to eat.” He licks his lips, igniting a fresh wave of chills up my spine.
The mere mention of food has my stomach rumbling, even though it hasn’t been long since I finished my cereal. “Sounds great.” Emotional whiplash can do that to a person, I guess. “What’d you have in mind?”
He tsks and takes his eyes off the road to point a finger at me accusingly. “Nope, I’m not telling you. It’s going to be a surprise.”
“Oh god.” I slump in my seat and roll my head toward him. “Why can’t you just tell me?”
Now it’s Tyler’s turn to look surprised, and a little indignant. “You don’t trust me?”
My answer comes easily. “Of course I trust you. I’m just not a fan of the anticipation.”
Tyler clicks his tongue at me again and shakes his head in mock disappointment, humming for a second as he thinks.
“Well, I’m still not going to tell you where we’re going, because I’m not ruining the surprise.
But I can give you a hint.” His eyes sparkle with mischief.
“We’re going to try a true local delicacy. ”
Horror overtakes me at the first thing that comes to mind. “Oh god, please don’t say you’re taking me to eat Spam.” Just the thought of the canned, salty meat is making any notions of hunger dissipate into thin air. It’s some people’s jam, but not mine, even though Hawai?i is all over it.
Tyler throws his head back and laughs, a full, deep belly laugh that I haven’t heard from him since we were together.
“First of all, that’s offensive—Spam is delicious and you are a hater.
But second of all, no, I’m not making you eat Spam for lunch.
I definitely wouldn’t live to see the end of the day if I tried that with you. ”
I nod in agreement. “You’re right. You wouldn’t.
” I rack my brain for other popular local dishes that I know but come up empty.
So I let myself sit back and enjoy the rest of the trip while Tyler queues up some indie music—some things never change—and we coast down the tropical highway toward our secret destination.
After what feels like forever (but was probably only twenty minutes tops; hunger has a way of making seconds feel like hours), Tyler pulls the Jeep off the road into a concrete parking lot littered with cars and a small building.
The giant neon sign on the building front stretching up toward the sky illuminates two words: Rainbow Drive-In.
The face of the building is painted in a wide array of colors to match the name, and I immediately find it charming.
I peek my head out the window and study the line of people snaking from the ordering counter into the parking lot, which Tyler tries to avoid as he navigates to find us a spot.
It’s surprising how urban Honolulu feels—how much like home.
Especially with the boy sitting next to me.
Even though I’m in a brand-new place, so many things still feel familiar.
“Okay,” he says as he puts the car in park and we hop down, shaking out our car-cramped limbs. “This is the Rainbow Drive-In.”
I study the tables of happy, sun-kissed people enjoying their lunches and chatting. Everyone here already seems so much more smiley and pleasant than they do back at home—but it’s hard to make out what’s on their trays from this far away. “What do they have here that’s supposedly a local delicacy?”
Tyler’s practically vibrating with excitement. “Loco moco.”
“Loco what?” I’d think he was kidding about the name if he didn’t look so excited about it.
Not deterred by my skepticism, Tyler locks the car and we weave through the crowd.
He waves me over toward the end of the line and we perch there in the sun, waiting for our turn to order.
While we do, he fills me in on what we’re about to eat.
“It’s a classic lunch—or breakfast, or anything, really—combo of white rice, a hamburger patty, a fried egg, and brown gravy.
It’s all served stacked on top of each other, and I know it sounds a bit heavy, but it’s truly the best blend of flavors.
” He licks his lips as if he’s already drooling and we take another step toward the counter, closer to our turn.
“I was pretty suspicious when Lucas took me here for the first time last year, but I’m telling you, once I tried it, I was a convert.
” He makes a motion with his hands next to his ears as if his mind is blown by the conception of this mishmash of food items.
I’m still trying to make sense of it all, distracted by the heavenly smells of grilling meat and sunshine wafting around us. “And this is something that people just…eat often? And it’s supposed to be good?” I screw my nose up in confusion, puzzling it out in my head.
Tyler looks scandalized by my distaste, and so do the people in the line around us eavesdropping on our conversation. Already, there are almost ten more people in line behind us—this place is clearly popular. “Don’t you like hamburgers, Olive?”
“You know I do.” Our million midnight McDonald’s runs when we were dating can attest to that.
“And fried eggs?”
“There’s no other acceptable way that you can put them on a bacon egg and cheese, so yes.”
“And rice?”
“Who doesn’t like rice?” Honestly, why would he even ask that question?
“And brown gravy?”
“Obviously.” I’m not above admitting that now my mouth is starting to water a little bit, both excited by the descriptions and by the fact that it’s been a very, very long time since I’ve eaten at an actual food stand—something Tyler and I haven’t done since we were together and would drive to check out new food trucks in town.
Tyler levels me with a stare. “So then, by that logic, you like all of the ingredients in a loco moco.”
“Okay, but”—I wave my hand around the long line of people standing in front of the drive-in’s window—“putting a hamburger patty on a bed of rice and topping it with a fried egg and gravy sounds like a heart attack waiting to happen.” All of the starch and meat and grease and…
Mmm. That actually sounds delicious. Who am I to question what Hawai?i has declared a delicacy?
Tyler simply shrugs as the line moves forward, unperturbed by that prospect. “Then it’s a great way to go.”
My eyes track the guy in front of us in line, receiving his steaming plate and walking toward some of the picnic tables set up in the shade.
When he turns around, I find myself blinking in surprise, staring at none other than Poseidon himself, looking just as at home in his casual surfing attire in this atmosphere as he did back at the campus dorms. For a second, I think he doesn’t recognize me—or worse, is ignoring me after the weird spectacle from yesterday—but he shoots me a wink as he breezes past with his tray, calling out to a group of friends at a nearby picnic table.
The loco moco heaped in front of him looks monstrously large, but at the same time, I can’t deny that the scent wafting our way is making my mouth water.
Ty nudges my shoulder with a satisfied smirk. “Told you.”
I cross my arms and sniff, trying to pull off indignant but actually trying to breathe in more of the salty, meaty, hearty smell that—yes, I’ll admit it—seems pretty dang good. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Ty. I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to.” His answer is immediate as we move up to the register and he slips his wallet out of his back pocket. “You forget that I know you, Olive. I don’t need you to tell me what you’re thinking.”
His words hit like the shock of the plane dipping during turbulence, low in my belly. And the stinging chaser is the unwanted thought in the back of my mind.
Jack doesn’t know me like that. He never did.
I sneak another glance at Tyler, who is beaming excitedly at the cashier as he hands over some bills and orders us two plates of loco moco and bottles of Coke.
This boy who’s taking me to try new foods and knows what’s on my mind without me even having to open my mouth.
While the boy I’m supposed to be with is back in his dorm room, nudging socks with a girl who isn’t his girlfriend, probably making plans for a future with her, too cowardly to tell me.
That thought is too much to process after an already exhausting day and a half, so I turn and follow Tyler to an empty picnic table instead, mind swirling.
Could it have always been like this?
And if so, then why did I ever think it was a good idea to screw it up?