Chapter Twenty-Seven
The fire crackling against the cluster ofwood releases embers that float like fireflies in the night air. Zane’s arm is around my shoulders as he, Blake, and I maneuver through the crowd of Bellwood High students gathered at Deep Water Beach. With the brightness the assembled tiki torches provide, I notice mostly seniors are in attendance, but there’s my sister, laughing with a group of sophomores. We wave at each other when our eyes meet, and then she turns to her friends and starts dancing to the music blasting through undetectable speakers.
“Enore!” Adrian jogs toward me, his curls falling over his face. “You made it.”
“Yeah. Blake was at the bookstore, so he offered to give me a ride. Then we picked up Zane and stopped at Shakers for some food.”
As we drove away from Tabitha’s Wardrobe, Blake announced a detour. We ended up in a booth with a large order of sweet potato curly fries, cheeseburgers, milkshakes, and a large s’mores sundae. We spent almost an hour eating and talking about music, which basically involved convincing Blake that Afrobeat went beyond Burna Boy. Then, just as I was stealing some of Zane’s fries and raving about the talented and underrated artist Simi, my phone buzzed with an incoming text.
DAVI:Hey. You still coming to the bonfire? I’m here. Can’t find you anywhere.
ME:With Zane and Blake. On our way.
If Davi had not texted, we might still be in that booth at Shakers.
Adrian nods at Blake and Zane, a wordless hey, before turning to me again. “So you ready to meet my boys from the basketball team? Remember I was gonna introduce you?”
“Yeah.” I look between Zane and Blake, recalling how they cheered me up after the bookstore ordeal. The last thing I want to do right now is meet new people and spend energy carrying conversations and forging new relationships when I feel safe and seen in the relationships I’ve already formed. “I think I’m going to hang out with my friends for now, but I’ll catch up with you later.”
“Um… okay.” Adrian sighs and bobs his head. “Sure. Do you.”
“Later, man,” Zane adds before turning me away from my cousin.
Sand crunches beneath my sneakers as we near the driftwood logs that enclose the firepit. Bethany, Sybil, and Davi are a few of the people seated on the logs. I’m surprised to see Travis as well, drinking from a red plastic cup. He’s sitting beside Misty from biology; his arm is around her shoulders. He nods at me, then continues sipping his drink.
“Finally,” Bethany says, standing. “You guys are here.” She hugs me but sticks her tongue out at the boys, then takes my hand and pulls me to sit between her and Sybil.
“What took you so long?” Sybil whispers in my ear. “This one”—she tilts her head toward Davi, who’s sitting beside her—“has been moping around, waiting for you to show up.”
I shift on the driftwood and look over Sybil’s shoulder. Davi meets my eyes and smiles.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hi,” I reply.
He opens his mouth to say something else, but Blake speaks first, addressing the group with his orotund voice.
“Where’s Ara?” he asks.
“Couldn’t make it,” Bethany answers. “She’s seeing a play in the city with her mom.”
“Yikes.” He cringes. “She’s gonna be in a shitty mood on Monday.”
“Yeah.” Bethany huffs and shakes her head. “Don’t I know it.”
“Hey,” Davi calls for my attention. “Wanna get out of here?” He clears his throat. “With me?”
“Yeah. Okay.”
As we walk away from the firepit, I’m surprised and relieved no one in the group makes any juvenile comments alluding to us hooking up. We stroll away from the party and move to an area of the beach not lit by tiki torches or the firepit. Here, the full moon is the only light; its silver glow shimmers on the expanse of water lapping the shore.
I glance at Davi as we walk. Tomorrow, Saturday, will mark a week since his sister’s birthday party—since that awkward conversation where he avoided talking about his mom. When we saw each other at school on Monday, it took some effort to get back into our normal flow—to talk without pausing and stuttering, to sit beside each other without leaving a gap. By Wednesday, things were normal again. We were back to being friends. Friends who had kissed on three occasions—that day in his family’s summerhouse, again that day when he drove me home, and the night of our first and only date. It’s been two weeks since we sat on Bayer’s Cliff and swapped milkshakes. Taking things slow with Davi has left me wondering if he likes me as much as I like him, enough to take our relationship to the next natural stage.
“Hey.” He stops walking and turns to face me. His pinched, tension-filled expression worries me.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“Yeah. I just feel like we haven’t really spent time alone since our date.”
“Me too. I guess we’ve just been busy—me with the musical and you with football and debate.”
“Yeah. But it’s not like I haven’t wanted to spend time with you or ask you out again or…” He draws in a long breath and releases it. “I’ve just been dealing with some stuff.”
There. Another sign everything is not okay with Davi. Something is going on, but he refuses to tell me what, and I know better than to ask. I want to believe he’ll talk to me when he’s ready.
“Listen, Enore.” He takes my hand. “I like you a lot. You make me really happy, and I swear I think about you all the time.”
It feels so good to hear those words, to have them silence my doubts.
“I think about you too,” I say. “All the time.”
It’s true. Davi is on my mind a lot—while I’m doing homework, rehearsing for the musical, helping my mom in the kitchen, watching reality shows with Esosa. The memory of him is like the warmth that lingers after a long hug.
“It’s been really hard since my dad died,” I tell him. “But you make me happy, Davi. And I was really sure I wouldn’t be happy for a very long time.”
I look at the way moonlight reflects on his face, the way it makes him appear almost celestial. We inch toward each other, tilt our heads, and align our lips. The urge I’ve been suppressing for weeks, all in the name of respectfully taking things slow, is no longer manageable. When our lips touch, I moan and press my chest against his. My fingers dig into his hair, rubbing his scalp and pulling his face closer to mine. We kiss deeply, break apart for air, and then continue again. When we finally separate, our chests moving quickly as we catch our breaths, Davi squeezes my hand and whispers my name.
“Yeah?” I answer.
“Will you…” His fingers shake. His palm turns damp. He chuckles, likely trying to downplay his sudden nervousness, but it’s a broken, weak sound, so he stops and becomes sober. “Will you be my… girlfriend? I know we’ve only gone on one date and—”
“Yes,” I cut in. “Yes. Absolutely. Definitely.”
“Really? Because I’ve wanted to ask you for a long time, but I got nervous. Really nervous. I didn’t know what you’d say.”
“I’ve been waiting to say yes.”
He smiles and pulls me in for a hug.
I bury my face in his chest, breathe in the clean scent of soap on his shirt, and make a conscious decision to dwell in this moment and disregard the reality of hiding a boyfriend from my mother.