Chapter Twelve
Alex
The sun is so intense that I immediately slip on my sunglasses.
At least the humidity is down, thanks to the flash storm from last night.
I roll my shoulders. I’m exhausted and sore.
The good kind. But while my body feels relaxed, my mind is a mess.
Waking up naked beside my best friend is a head trip I never expected to deal with.
I mean, yes, I’ve wondered what it would be like to kiss her, to taste her lip gloss.
To figure out where she likes to be kissed and how she likes to be touched.
Now I know the noises she makes when I bite the inside of her thigh.
The way she sighs when I kiss the side of her neck.
The way her fingers feel in my hair as I settle between her legs.
And knowing? It’s so much worse than not knowing. Because how do we go back to what we used to be when I know what she looks like when she climaxes?
We have to talk. I know we do. I’m just not sure what to say. We swore nothing would change, but it’s easy to make those kind of promises in the dark. It’s hard to keep them once morning comes.
Mason’s Volkswagen is parked in front of the hotel, and he’s carefully laying Mom’s wedding dress across the back seat. “Did you see Mom or Richard this morning?” I ask him and toss my duffel inside the trunk.
He pops out from the back seat and shakes his head. “No, I think they left around five.”
I shudder. That’s way too early. Especially the day after your wedding. Even if it is to catch a flight to a fancy beach in the Caribbean.
There are a few people in the parking lot, some of whom I recognize from last night and a few whom I don’t. I wave to one of Richard’s cousins as he gets into his Mercedes. “Did Sarah leave already?”
“Yeah, about ten minutes ago.” He looks lovesick already.
I elbow him in the side and waggle my eyebrows. “Did you two have fun last night?”
He pushes me away and glares. “Did you?”
My smile disappears. Well played. Speaking of…
Jules steps out into the sun wearing the same thing I saw her in at breakfast, the only addition being her own pair of sunglasses. I snag my bike helmets from Mason’s trunk. If we’re going to talk, we better do it now.
“Do you think you could take Jules’s bag back, too?”
He glances at both helmets in my hand. “Isn’t she catching a ride with Chloe?”
“Not anymore. I’m going to take her for a ride up Skyline.”
He looks at me, and I know he’s putting the pieces together. “Just have her toss it in the back,” he finally says. “I’m going to go check out.”
“See you at home?” I hold out my fist, which he bumps with his.
“See you at home.” He heads for the large set of automatic doors but after three steps stops and turns. “Hey, Al? Be careful.”
Usually, I would roll my eyes and dismiss him with a wave and a cheeky comment. Something along the lines of “Sure, Mom,” but I’m almost positive he’s not talking about the bike ride.
After a deep breath, I make my way over to Jules, who appears way more anxious than she did earlier this morning.
“Hey.” I smile, trying to put her at ease despite my own fluttering set of nerves.
“So I was thinking that maybe we could take my bike up the Skyline. Check out the view and talk about things. Didn’t really get a chance to do that this morning. ”
Her cheeks darken to a shade of pink that matches her cardigan. She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear and nods. It’s adorable. “That sounds nice.” She frowns. “What about my bag?”
“Mase said he’d take it.”
She stares at me, not unlike the way Mason was just a moment ago. “Let me just tell Chloe, then we can go.”
The drive is gorgeous. I still prefer the fall foliage, but there’s something to be said about the blue sky and pink cherry blossoms and fresh blooms along the trees. It may also help that Jules has her arms wrapped tightly around my midsection as we wind through the trail.
When we reach high enough up to stop, I park in the shade, and we find a spot away from the other visitors. Jules sits close but not close enough to touch and sighs when she looks out over the tree line.
I wish I knew what she was thinking. “If you could fly anywhere in the world, where would you go?” I ask.
She smiles wistfully. “Aruba.”
“Not with my mom and Richard, I hope?”
She laughs and shoves my shoulder. “No. It’s just on my mind.” I hum. “What about you?”
I say the first place that pops into my mind. “Kyoto.”
She nods like she knew it would be someplace random, just like I knew she’d pick a beach, and focuses back on the sight in front of her. “Is that next on your list? Japan?”
For a split second, I debate telling her that I’m not planning on going anywhere. But I’m fairly certain she’d be able to see through the lie. “I’m thinking about England, actually. I’ve been looking at schools out there.”
“For grad school?” I can see the worry behind her sunglasses. “I thought maybe you’d go back to France. Or Greece.” She blushes, and it makes me regret telling her about Sophia. “Why England?”
“I dunno. I really like eating baked beans on a piece of toast for breakfast?” She doesn’t find it funny.
Not that I blame her. I loved France. I’d go back to visit in a heartbeat, but just like with Greece and Portugal, I would never stay there.
They were just temporary stops in my need to keep moving.
I’m not sure how to explain all that to her. To put into words that when I slow down, things become real, and I don’t know how to deal with them. Things like my brother being sick and being attracted to my best friend.
“It’s hard to sit still,” I finally say.
It’s not a good enough explanation. I’m just not sure how else to describe it without exposing every single piece of me.
“I thought about backpacking in Italy this summer,” I confess.
I see her tense. “I’ll probably just go back to New York, though.
Get in some extra work hours at the gym. ”
She goes quiet. It’s not a panicky kind of quiet, not like when I told her I would be gone our senior year and missing out on all the plans we made, but more contemplative. Like maybe she does, in some way, understand all the things I’m unable to say. “Do you feel weird? About last night?”
“Do you?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “I asked you first.”
Confused, worried, a little bit hopeful. But not weird. Nothing about being with Jules is weird. “No. I don’t feel weird.”
“I don’t feel weird, either,” she says softly. “It was eye-opening, though.”
My stomach twists, not knowing what that means and too scared to ask. But talking about it is the reason we came up here. So I steady myself and ask, “Is that good or bad?”
Her laugh sounds soft and breathy. “It’s good. It confirmed a few things. About me and whether or not I was capable of liking sex with another girl, I mean.”
Is that all last night was? A no-strings experiment? Jules using me to discover parts about herself in a safe space? If that’s the case, then it wasn’t her catching feelings. I exhale to try to push down the overwhelming sense of disappointment. After all, that’s what we said we wanted.
So why do I suddenly feel so fucking sad?
She glances at me, waiting, and I fear that if I don’t say something, she’s going to realize something is wrong. Or worse, think she did something wrong. I do my best to smile, then bump my shoulder to hers. “Did you? Like it?”
“It wasn’t bad,” she teases, then bumps me back. “I had fun,” she adds. “Just so you know.”
I wipe my hand across my forehead. “That’s a relief.” She laughs softly, and I take her hand. “I’m glad I could be there for you. Help you figure some things out.”
There’s a brief hesitation, and she squeezes my hand. “Me too.”
I mean it. I am glad that I could be there for her during her self-discovery. Even if I wish it meant something more for her.
The breeze is back, rustling the trees. I think about Greece and Sophia. How utterly in lust I was with her. How she very gently but firmly told me we could be friends who remained platonic, or we could be lovers who didn’t hang out outside of the bedroom. But not both. Never both.
Because both would lead to immeasurable heartbreak.
My heart may not be breaking, but it’s assuredly cracked, and I start to realize why Sophia drew that boundary between us. Because if I press for more with Jules, when it’s not obvious that’s what she wants, I may lose her completely. And that would be devastating.
“Nothing’s changed, right?” I ask, worried that our impulsive decision last night has already begun to corrode our friendship. “Still best friends?”
“Still best friends.” She shifts closer and rests her head on my shoulder.
I’m relieved. Thank God we didn’t fuck things up by, well, you know.
She rubs the pendant on her necklace, and I notice how tense she is. It makes me nervous all over again.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I told Chloe. About last night,” she blurts. I groan, and her eyes widen. “It’s not my fault. She figured it out before I could even finish my coffee.”
“And you’re a shitty liar,” I add.
“And I’m a shitty liar,” she agrees. She wrings her hands, clearly worried.
The thing is, I never could stay mad at her. Even though I know Chloe will never let us live this down. I squeeze her tight. “Don’t worry. It’s one of the many things I love about you.”
She relaxes and takes my hand, threading our fingers together. I try to steady my heart. This is what we wanted, I remind myself. A single night together that wouldn’t change anything between us. We’re not lovers. We’re friends. That’s all.
Because like I learned in Greece, you can’t have both.
Three more days!
I fire off a GIF of an excited kid followed by a quick I can’t wait and shove my phone into my back pocket.