FOURTEEN
R enner is like a golden retriever who magically turned human. On our drive to Ollie’s, he has his arm out the window, belting all the wrong lyrics to a Glass Animals song (on a 2020s station).
We were never supposed to go to Ollie’s. But the gym was occupied all day with students setting up for prom, leaving little privacy for our attempt at time travel. We plan to come back tonight after Ollie’s, when all the staff and students are gone.
I flash him a dirty look when he sings, “Sometimes all I do is love youuu,” instead of the correct lyrics, though it does nothing to dim his mood.
He’s still high from his sex ed class, which was a smashing success. In fact, he proudly declared it a “slam dunk” when he picked me up in the guidance office.
I don’t know why I’m surprised. Renner has the uncanny ability to pull everything off regardless of how much effort he puts in. Every time a big test or exam rolls around, I spend every waking hour studying, and he takes pleasure in “winging it.” Just like his student council speech.
“I think I got through to them, you know? They seemed like they really wanted to learn,” he says for the fourth time in the last three blocks. “Maybe teaching really is what I was meant to do.”
“Guess you’ve found your calling,” I say, cringing at the thought of Renner demonstrating how to place a condom on a banana. At the same time, I’m glad he’s in better spirits after his parents’ divorce news. I could tell that was a real blow.
“Hey, it’s a noble one at least,” he points out as we pull onto Ollie’s crowded street. My heart drops at the sight of his packed driveway and the cars lining up on either side of the road. I’d assumed this was an intimate gathering, despite what Nori said, but it appears she wasn’t exaggerating. Ollie invited the entire town.
What used to be a neighborhood full of eighties homes has undergone a makeover. Most of the old houses have been replaced with minimalist, boxy white and gray exteriors. Ollie’s place is no exception.
Renner stares through the windshield in awe. “Holy crap. Ollie’s rich.”
Before I can respond, Renner bolts from the car and starts up the driveway, clearly eager for a reunion with his best friend.
I groan and sprint after him. Just before he unlocks the gate, I yank him back by his veiny forearm. “Wait, wait, wait. We need to talk.”
“About what?” He shoots me a quizzical look, eyes flickering to my grip on his arm. His excitement literally radiates through his veins. He’s a quintessential extrovert, and the prospect of entering a party gives him life.
I drop his arm. “About how we’re going to act?” I shouldn’t have to pose this like a question. A question he should certainly have considered by this point.
He slowly blinks. “I’m not following.”
I take a step closer, close enough to envy the density of his lash line. “Renner, we’re supposedly engaged. Don’t you think we should figure out how to act like a couple? We can’t just avoid each other at our own party.” I hate myself for saying it, but it’s true. If we’re going to carry on as normal, like Nori suggested, we can’t change our behavior too drastically.
“Oh.” He feigns disappointment. “Because I was planning to stay six feet apart from you. At all times.”
I arrow him with a get real look.
“It’s funny you mention this, because I recall saying the exact same thing this morning.”
I relent. “Fine. You were right. Happy?”
“Yes.” He runs a hand through his hair, scanning Ollie’s perfectly manicured shrubs. “So what are we talking here? Holding hands? Closed-mouth kissing? A little bit of tongue?”
When he says it like that, so breezy, a thick lump forms in my throat. “Well, no. We don’t need to be all over each other. And definitely no kissing. Closed mouth or otherwise.”
“No, no,” he says, his expression ultraserious. “If we’re sticking with the status quo, we don’t want anyone to get suspicious. We have to act like we would normally—like we’re in love,” he advises, a cheeky grin spreading over his face. He holds his hand out. “Come on, wifey.”
I mentally face-palm. I shouldn’t have said anything at all. Renner loves a challenge. He also takes great pleasure in my embarrassment. This is a lethal combination.
Before I can take the last two minutes of my life back, he’s already swung his muscly arm over my shoulder, tucking me snugly into his side. “All right, sugarplum. It’s showtime.”
I squirm out of his grip. “Please don’t call me sugarplum. I’m not a child.”
“Honey pie? Honey buns?”
“That sounds geriatric.”
“Well, we are thirty. But okay.” He resets. “Snookums?”
I fire a warning glare. “Where are you getting these pet names? And no cuddles. Let’s just ... hold hands.”
He rolls his eyes, extending his hand again. “Fine.” When I slide my fingers between his, he yanks it back, flexing his fingers. “Ouch, is this really how you hold hands?”
“What are you talking about? I hold hands completely normal.” I grasp for his hand again, but he pulls it out of my reach.
“No. You have an iron grip.”
“My dad says you’re supposed to have a strong handshake.” This mention of my dad slips out before my brain even registers it. I think Renner is surprised too, because he immediately looks down at his shoes.
I wonder if Dad is here tonight, or if he’s buried in a mountain of work and obligations to his new family. Probably the latter. I shove that tiny pang of hope deep, where it belongs. Hoping has never done me any good with Dad.
Renner registers the look on my face and softens his expression. Our eye contact holds for a blink before he shakes his head. “A handshake is different from hand-holding, Char. Just relax for once.” He takes my hand again, softly threading his fingers through mine in a way that actually doesn’t feel awful. His touch is maybe the tiniest bit comforting given that we’re about to enter a party filled with our nearest and dearest—after missing the last thirteen years of our lives.
We walk up the small, groomed path leading to the gated backyard. Awaiting us behind the gate are at least twenty people, who erupt in cheers, whistles, and inappropriate catcalls (mostly from Nori).
Renner tightens his grip on my hand and puts on his charming act as he waves hello.
“There’s the couple of the hour,” Nori shouts. She’s the first to rush forward for a hug before the mob descends.
It’s mind-boggling, being face-to-face with everyone you know. Only, everyone’s older, including Mom, who’s the second to approach with a hearty hug. She looks a mess, as usual, and her long, wavy hair is now streaked with gray. The years have weathered her skin, particularly around her eyes. Renner’s dad has aged too. His hair is thinner on top and completely salt and pepper.
“How are you?” Renner asks, embracing him in a weirdly long hug.
His dad shrugs away, seemingly confused by his son’s affection. “I’m great. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Before Renner can respond, Ollie greets us with two cerulean blue drinks topped with tiny umbrellas. He’s still taller than Renner with a wide, tapered athletic frame that Kassie used to fawn over. Only now, he’s a little less lean and slightly bulkier. His easy, toothy grin hasn’t changed, though. “You two look like you need a drink. Rough day shaping young minds?”
“You could say that,” I say with a forced smile. This is so, so weird.
“It’s been an interesting one. But I rocked my sex ed class today, so that’s a win,” Renner announces.
“Right on, man.” Ollie gives him a high five.
“Thank you, by the way. You didn’t have to do all of this for us,” I say, gesturing at the white balloons and lights strung along the fence, and the Mr.and Mrs.–themed plates and napkins on the food table. While Ollie has always been an excellent host, it’s clear he really put a lot of thought into tonight.
“Hey, no need to thank me. You guys are my oldest friends. I’d do anything for you, you know that.” Ollie’s sentimental tone nearly makes me tear up. He and I have always been friendly, but we’ve never been super close. Part of me wonders if my resentment toward him for taking so much of Kassie’s time has gotten in the way of that.
I wish I could say that to him. But instead, I just pull him in for a hug, careful not to spill my blue drink. “You’re the best, seriously.”
“I did fail on one thing, though. Couldn’t get that shrimp dip you like. My dad went rogue and made buffalo chicken dip instead.” He gives me an affectionate hair tousle before getting distracted by Renner’s uncle Larry, who is desperate to talk to him about the physics of home building. Renner whispers that he’s a retired physics professor at Cal Tech and has the world’s largest collection of Star Wars memorabilia.
Soon Renner’s lost to the crowd, wading through like a member of BTS after a concert. He seems to be having the time of his life chatting with everyone. Meanwhile, I’m awkwardly chilling on the sidelines, eavesdropping on Renner’s aunt Lynn telling someone about how she plans to divide her ashes in Mason jars for her family to display on their fireplace mantels. Is this what adults talk about on the regular? I feel like an awkward grade-schooler at recess, walking around the perimeter with no friends to play with.
I pounce when Nori finishes her conversation with Heidi, a girl a grade below us (who I was never even friends with). “Going back to the scene of the crime didn’t work?” she asks quietly, offering me a carrot from her plate.
“The gym was occupied all day with students. They’re decorating for prom. We’re gonna go back tonight when everyone is gone.”
“I have a feeling it’ll work,” she says with confidence. “And if it doesn’t, maybe this is all a dream. Maybe you’ll wake up tomorrow in your regular life.”
Wouldn’t that be nice ...
“Or maybe your memories will come back,” she says as though it’s that simple. Like at any given moment, more than a decade’s worth of memories will return.
I steal another carrot from her plate. “Either way, I don’t know how long I can pretend, nodding when people talk to me about anal gland expression.”
She doesn’t bother to inquire about that one. “You know, when you two first walked in, I thought things had gone back to normal.”
“Why would you think that?” I ask, stealing a glance at Renner. He’s standing on Ollie’s deck, delighting in the attention.
“The way you guys came in holding hands, staring into each other’s eyes adoringly. It kind of looked like you wanted to suck his face off.” Her eyes are all starry and wistful.
I nearly gag. “Adoringly? No. That was a carefully planned act we agreed upon two seconds before walking in.”
She winks at me, crunching a celery stick loaded with ranch dip. “All I’m sayin’ is, you coulda fooled me. You looked blissfully engaged.”
I see what she’s getting at and I won’t be lured. “I won’t be marrying that man,” I say, holding stubborn.
“Suit yourself. But if I had someone who looked at me like that, I wouldn’t be in a rush to ditch them, even if I were trapped in an AU—” Nori stops, eyes widening over my shoulder.
When I turn around, everyone is staring at me. Renner is beside Ollie, waving me over.
“What’s going on?” I ask through clenched teeth, approaching tentatively.
“They want us to give a speech,” he whispers, tugging me by the hand.
Oh no.
My knees instantly weaken. See, I’m good at public speaking. Speeches are my bitch. But I cannot speak off the cuff. Speeches take planning. Forethought. Word-for-word memorization. I can’t cope without my color-coded cue cards.
Before I have the chance to spiral and run away, Renner kicks things off. “Char and I just wanted to thank each and every one of you for being here tonight. Especially Ollie and Lainey for generously hosting. It’s rare to have everyone we love in one place, but Char and I are so thankful to have you all in our lives.”
My fingers, which were locked tightly between his, loosen ever so slightly as he begins speaking with surprising ease. How is he so relaxed right now?
“To be honest, I’m just as surprised as you all are to be standing here tonight. As many of you may recall, Char hated me in high school. And I mean hated .” Everyone laughs good-naturedly as Renner gives me a wink. I swear his eyes are sparkling. “Many hours were dedicated to pissing each other off. I learned very quickly that there are three surefire ways to annoy Char. First, being tardy. In fact, half the time she’s not even satisfied with being on time. If you’re not early, you’re late. Second, singing the wrong lyrics with any ounce of confidence. Third, losing. She cannot stand to lose. Board games. Bets. Student council elections.” He lets that one linger, smirking at me when I shoot him a look.
“Shit. Thirteen years still too soon for that joke,” he says, garnering more laughs and a loud snort from Mom. “I’m shocked I’m still alive after that election. Anyway, I never really knew what started it all ... and still don’t. I never told her this, but the truth is, I was in awe of her from the moment we met. She’s always the smartest, most driven, most beautiful person in any room. And maybe my teenage self felt intimidated.
“Either way, no one could get under my skin like Char. And she still does to this day, let’s be honest. There’ve been days where I thought I couldn’t stand her, but I found myself thinking about her when we were apart. All the time. Somehow, through all the fighting, she wormed her way into my heart.” He tightens his grip around my hand and looks directly into my eyes. “Ever since then, my life has been fuller, happier, and infinitely better with you by my side instead of against me. Together, we’re infinite. Beyond. And I think I just plagiarized Toy Story . But the point is, Char, I cannot wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”
The crowd goes wild for his speech. I’m having déjà vu of the applause after Renner’s student council campaign speech. Maybe Renner’s calling isn’t teaching gym. Maybe he should be a professional speechwriter. Or a motivational speaker.
I don’t know who started shouting “Kiss her,” though I suspect it was Ollie. But soon, everyone is cheering us on, clinking their cups, and demanding a kiss.
“Come on, give her a kiss,” Renner’s aunt yells, phone poised to capture the moment on video.
My eyes meet Renner’s, and we exchange a look that silently says, Shit . But then the corner of his lip raises in that signature smile and my breath hitches. My head whirls with a foreign feeling, something I don’t quite recognize.
“We don’t have to ... if you don’t want to,” he whispers.
“Um, I—” He loosens his hand around my waist, sensing my reluctance. Every logical, rational part of me says that J.T.Renner is the absolute last person in the world I want to kiss. But not kissing him at our own engagement party, in front of all our friends and family, would only lead to suspicion. Right?
For a hot second, I’m entranced. Hoodwinked by his unnatural gift with words. By the way the orange sky has illuminated the tiny gold flecks in his green eyes like tiny, fiery beacons. I imagine I’m character in a movie. The main character who withstands a torrential downpour and subsequent pneumonia, all for that grand gesture. The character who throws caution to the wind and accepts another’s love.
And I do it. I kiss him.