Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I’m driving, but barely. Emotionally speaking, I’m nearly fetal, as the reigning fairy princess rides shotgun.
Kit. The fairest of them all. The sugary sweetest. The very smartest. No surprise she got her dream guy, even while slamming the door in his face.
Me? I’ve got a soul-crushing, unrequited crush and a breakup-shaped boulder of guilt.
What’s worse, I’ve let myself fall for Austin when we could never be happy long term.
I can’t even fantasize about a future with him because he’ll settle down in that small town with wheat fields or whatever, and my imagination always pops a Little House on the Prairie bonnet on my head.
I’d be in there trying to bake apple pie, trapped in a gossiping small town, stressing about the mending I need to do.
For Kit to imagine her future, she just needs to add a castle and a designer bag. How do I not hate her for that?
Okay, hate isn’t the right word. But still. It’s complicated. I want to be happy for her—and I am—but I want that against-all-odds fairy-tale ending too. And it’s not going to happen. Not for medium, lanky, over-the-top me. And definitely not with Austin.
I’m so bad at this, Jesus. Help me just be her friend right now?
She attentively watches me.
“It’s bleak, Kit. Like … I’m a mess.” Just spit it out. “Remember when school had just started? That Flooders movie night that Mia and I dragged you to? And then Austin sat by me at Saga and invited us to play games in the lobby?”
She confirms.
“And then that first time we went to B-Dubs for wings?” My heart can’t decide whether to flutter or collapse at the memory. “He fought with me about country music with that smile of his, and I fully lost my mind.” Okay, my heart. I lost my heart.
Me with Austin? Unlike Levi with Kit, mine was a master class in delusion.
I tried everything in the flirting handbook—from answering his texts right away to curling up next to him during a movie.
At first he’d reciprocated. Then something shifted.
He pulled back—not a full wall, just a half wall I could still see over.
And when I tried steering our conversations toward longer-term relationships, he shut it down every time.
And honestly? Good thing. It’s not okay how strongly I feel about him. It’s not safe. It’s not wise. It’s just, no. Still, it sucks to be rejected any way you look at it.
I let out a breath. Can Kit handle any of this? Maybe she already knows.
“He … never implied he liked me as more than a friend. Even at my birthday adventure, he kept saying it was a ‘friend thing.’” I risk a glance.
She’s listening. “He’s asked out every other girl instead.
Like, every other girl. You know. He kept things strictly friend-like between us, just like he did with you and Mia.
Except, that’s what you guys wanted.” Grimacing, I continue.
“I wondered if he might respond to jealousy, which is why I tried to talk to Leo.”
Kit pivots to her window.
“Gretchen, is that you?” I try. “Your hair is full of secrets.”
“So fetch!” She turns back to attempt a smile.
I brace for judgment.
“Leo … It was always about Austin?” she asks. “I guess I made a mess.”
“Well, at first it was, yeah. But then I was embarrassed that Leo wouldn’t talk to me at all, and I dug in my heels. And then … he was actually so sweet. In the words of Elaine, ‘yada yada yada,’ and here we are.”
Kit sits silent.
I grasp for something more to say. “Have you watched Seinfeld? It’s basically Friends before Friends was Friends. So ancient. But funny. Inappropriate though. Maybe you wouldn’t like it. We could try it in the lounge. But we don’t have that much time for binging anymore …” I run out of oxygen.
Her half smile. Yep—she’s blaming herself. “I remember Austin at B-Dubs that first time,” she says. “Flirting hard with you.” She bites her lip and considers me. “Can I ask you something?”
“Yeah, shoot.”
“How are you and Jesus?”
I snort. All that about Austin and my enormous, not-actually-secret crush and she slams on the brakes for a Jesus interrogation? Leave it to Kit. But also, it’s cool that he’s her favorite topic—she gets it in a way other people don’t.
“I’ve actually had sort of a major breakthrough recently.”
But I don’t share the Leo versus Austin concept. It’s too fresh right now, too personal. “And I feel like he actually answers when I pray. Not the big ones really, but the little ones.”
Like how I’m already feeling way nicer toward Kit.
Thanks for that.
“Do you still ask your What would Jesus do if Jesus were me question?” she asks.
How does she know about that? I can’t and don’t talk to her about Jesus-y things. When it comes to our faith, she’s in calculus and I’m in preschool. I don’t go there.
“Remember when I asked you to convince Austin to take me on the experimental car ride?” she continues. “You said it then.”
Am I ready to actually cannonball into Jesus Land with the local expert?
Do I have to?
I cringe. Can’t do it.
She pulls a leg up to face me. “But then our lives exploded a little, huh? Levi and finals and Alabama, and then we all split up for break.”
“Okay, KitKat …”
Oops. Austin called her that to mess with Levi the other day. It just slipped out of my mouth.
She grins. “Yay, a nickname.”
Aw. She’s a cute little thing. Lovable, if you give her a chance. Like a bunny on the side of the road that you hope won’t become roadkill because of her innocence. I’ll just own the nickname like it was my idea. Austin can tease me later. I wonder if she’ll drop the topic if I just continue—
“So do you?” she presses.
So much for that. I grab my phone from the cup holder.
“Hey, can I type for you?” Her voice is high and breathy.
I frown.
“I have enough car issues without getting in a wreck,” she says quietly.
Oh. Guess that makes sense. I check the previous couple messages from Austin before handing it over. Nothing she could judge too hard.
I drum my fingers on the wheel. “Ummm, just say, ‘Need anything while I’m at the supermarket?’”
Bloop.
Ding.
She reads aloud. “‘A few more plaid shirts since you like them so much. Want a shopping buddy?’”
Kit types on my phone without my consent. Not a fan.
“Wait, what are you saying?” I ask.
“‘This is Kit. Back off, buster. I’m the shopping buddy today.’ Can I send it?”
“Love.” I hope he fights her on that.
Bloop.
Ding.
She types again without reading aloud.
“Hello-o?”
“This is my phone,” she says.
What could those riveted eyes mean?
Bloop.
“What?” I ask. “Is it Sir Levi?”
She shakes her head. “So what are we getting at the store? Snacks?”
“Uh—”
Ding.
I need a neck brace for this whiplash.
“Austin says, ‘No fair. I call dibs for next time.’ And a Jimmy Fallon GIF saying ‘Pick me!’”
I whimper and start a Hamilton song I know she’ll recognize—“Helpless.”
“Aw, Sophs! This must be so hard.”
“You have no idea.”
What’s missing here? Oh, I’m being lame. This is not how friends have fun together. “Girl. Time to play DJ. We need some tunes.”
She types on my phone, and a song plays in seconds—“Fake It.” Points for Kit. This is the perfect driving bop.
“Excellent work, Iago. When Tauren Wells went all Bruno Mars.”
And we’re dancing in our seats, rolling down the windows, singing.
Thank you. I needed this.
I’ll get to the honesty part, okay? I’ll get there.
Fifteen minutes later we wander down the candle aisle of the grocery store. Overhead, Barry Manilow is vibing. Below, I’m wrangling a cart the size of a U-Haul.
“Favorite smell?” Kit asks.
“This one.” I sniff another. “Nope, this one. No, this one is so good. Your favorite?” I ask. “No, wait. It’s the cookie one, isn’t it?”
“For sure.”
“Crushed it,” I say, like Fat Amy.
She giggles. “I don’t actually buy candles with scents though. It’s too much to think about or something.”
I snort. “Calc III? No problem. It’s those floral scents that’ll get ya.”
A full laugh.
“Chip aisle next.”
“Favorite chips?” Kit asks. “Anything with queso, right?”
She gets me. “Girl, yes. The worst day can be improved with queso. And the right queso is a complete meal—protein, carbs, fiber, fat.” I grab a bag of tortilla chips. “Same for trail mix. But that’s not chips. You like barbecue, right?” I toss that one in too.
“Yep. And kettle corn. Does that count as a chip?”
“Totally counts.” I point for her to grab a bag. “Way more than trail mix.”
She hands it to me, and I throw it in the cart, avoiding her eyes. She’s probably tallying what she can afford. She’ll fuss when I pay for all of it, but the poor thing has zero funds. Pretty sure she’s at Mayberry on scholarship.
Something tells me I should talk to Kit about Levi. No idea why. They seem perfectly nauseating to me, and she already talks about him all the time.
Is that you?
Not sure, but I do it anyway. “How are things with Sir Nods a Lot?”
Her shoulders shoot up in pleasure. “He’s amazing. I mean, when I’m not doubting everything because of my counselor, it’s the best thing ever. I still can’t believe it’s like this now. I really didn’t think it ever could be.” She slows. “The no-kissing thing is new for me.”
“How’s that going?”
“You know, it’s helpful in more ways than I realized …
I wanted to do it this way for a few reasons, but partly because I thought avoiding the physical boundary quandary would save us some heartache.
Kissing isn’t actually a line at all, and things get so complicated so fast. But I’m also finding that having a more obvious line in the sand makes us freer to show affection in other ways. ”
I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had a boyfriend I wanted to keep kissing.
“I’m so thankful that Levi was willing to do this with me. It was so not his idea of a good time. He’s—”
“Amazing,” I tease her, fanning my face.
Is that what you wanted us to talk about? Seems random.
She smirks. “Yeah. I think … I love him.”
Love.
“Aw, Kit. Wow.”
I’ve never fallen in love. Unless this Austin fiasco counts as one-sided falling in love. Yikes. And yet, peak Sophie.
“How was dancing with Austin last night?” As if she can read my thoughts.
“It was rough. I mean, incredible in the worst way. Terrible in the best way. I’ve been thinking about something you said to me a while ago.”
Look, I’m confiding in her. Help me out, okay?
“You said that God really cares about every little thing that happens to us,” I continue.
She bobs her head with enthusiasm.
“Something is telling me that if Jesus wanted Austin and me to be together, then things would be different, a lot of things. If the Austin thing can’t happen, God has his reasons. He has something better.”
Kit grabs my hand from the cart and flaps it in victory. “Sophie, yes. This.”
She’s a one-woman pep rally. Spirit fingers heavily implied.
And then I feel a whisper-y nudge—Praise and Prayer.
You want me to go? Tonight?
But … I don’t want to.
Church is not for me. Too much pressure, too many expectations, and way too many people ready to tell you what’s wrong with your life. Pass.
But Jesus? He’s different. I want all the Jesus. At that, I grip the cart and sigh.
I will not treat you like Leo. Not for one more day. Whatever it takes to dive in with you on this.
“So … you’re still super into Praise and Prayer, right?”
Her face lights up. “Absolutely. Come with me tonight?”
Okay. Let’s do this.
“If you can play bodyguard. I’m not trying to get pounced on by churchiness.”
“Yes, yes, yes.” Then she points at dozens of bouquets. “Hey, favorite flowers?”
I scan the options and point to the brightest tropical bunch. “This one.”
Beautiful. Loud. The only one of its kind.
I see you. Thanks for this.
It’s just Praise and Prayer. Just one time. But something about it feels like a before and after.