Chapter 2 #2
My throat burns, and my eyes prick with the threat of tears.
I don’t want to cry in front of everyone.
I grab my phone from my sundress pocket intending to text my sister Naomi an SOS, but then remember she’s at the fireman’s ball with her husband.
Roe, then? No, I don’t want to bug any of my other sisters on a Saturday night.
What would I even tell them? I put my phone away.
Which leaves me to pretend everything is okay.
I busy myself moving bowls of toppings a few inches to the left.
Then to the right. It’s a super important task and takes all of my attention.
As long as I don’t think about Mallory’s additional lies, I’m able to distract myself by singing with everyone for whole minutes at a time.
At one point, Caleb and Mallory sing “Summer Nights” from the movie Grease.
They’re a cute couple. Anyone can easily see. It makes sense that Caleb would choose someone like Mallory and not someone like me. She’s fun, boisterous, and collects friends like it’s easy.
I’m the supportive, quiet, background character who doesn’t connect with others instantly. The steady, dependable “guy,” like in those movies last night, who gets ditched because there is always someone more exciting to spend the rest of their life with. The one they all think is boring.
The oven buzzer goes off, a dull ring mostly drowned out by the music. I take out the tins of nachos and let people know their food is done. The shredded cheese is almost gone, so I grab a block from the fridge and start grating.
The opening chords of “I Want it That Way,” by the Backstreet Boys starts.
I haven’t heard this song in forever. It’s like meeting an old friend after years of separation.
In high school, I was obsessed with the band.
This particular song was my favorite. I even choreographed a dance and taught it to friends who hung out at my house after school.
When I look up, it’s Caleb’s cousin with the long hair singing. His voice is gorgeous, and I stop to listen. The green of his t-shirt matches the green of his eyes. They’re striking, and I can’t believe I didn’t notice when he first walked inside.
For the first few lines, he points to the audience, left to right, then right to left, his finger bouncing to the beat. Odd, because that’s the way my choreographed dance began.
He kicks out his right leg, crosses it at the ankle and turns backward, then repeats the move until he’s facing forward again.
The crowd goes wild.
When it reaches the chorus, he jumps a quarter turn to his right so now his profile is to the audience with his legs crossed, and does a vine step back and then to the front. He doesn’t have much space, but he gets into it.
This is definitely my dance from high school. The moves are too terrible for anyone to have made up besides me.
Except this guy takes it so seriously, everyone gets into it. There are cheers, whistles, and catcalls. I cannot stop laughing.
On the final, “I want it that way,” he points at me, as if dedicating the performance to me. He knows who I am.
I wish I could say the same.
His hand moves over his face as he bows his head in the last second of sound.
Once the applause dies down and everyone stops slapping him on the back, he makes it to the kitchen counter. He stands there for a second with his hands jammed into the front pockets of his jeans, almost shyly, as if he didn’t just bring the house down.
“That was truly amazing,” I say. For once not at a loss for words. “How do you know that dance?”
“You taught me.”
I shake my head and laugh. “I swear I didn’t.”
His smile grows. “You don’t know who I am?”
I study him. Oval face. Strong cheek bones. Narrow chin. Gorgeous green eyes. Six feet tall. Quite the handsome package, but nothing rings a bell.
“No.”
The next song starts, so I take a step closer to hear him as he speaks.
“Growing up, I was at your house all the time until I moved away.”
“So we’re playing guess who?” I can’t help but laugh again. I have a feeling I’m going to lose. “What sister were you friends with?”
“Your sisters hated me. I was better friends with you.”
I was too shy in high school to have any close guy friends. “How did we meet?”
“I was your neighbor. One morning, I was chasing Mrs. Huxley’s dog down the street and you told me to knock it off.”
“I have no memory of this happening.”
Instead of being offended, his eyes light up. As ridiculous as this conversion has become, it’s a relief to have something else to think about besides my deceitful friend making out in the corner with her boyfriend.
“I’m stumped,” I say. “You’ve got to tell me.”
“Andrew Yarrow.”
I recognize the name as little as I do the face. “Andrew, I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else.”
“You know me. I promise.” His eyes skate over the contours of my face as if comparing me to the seventeen year old version.
“I swear I don’t.”
He runs his hand through his dark hair. “You probably remember me better as Andy Jr., Helen’s grandson.”
My jaw drops. “Andy Jr.!”
It’s such a delightful surprise, I reach out and lay my hand on his arm. He grins. There’s a moment where everything that has happened in the last twenty-four hours disappears, and all I feel is the happiness at seeing him again.
Andy Jr., his younger sister, and his mom lived with his grandma for a few years after his parents divorced. I haven’t thought about them in years.
“Andy Jr. I can’t believe it!”
“No one has called me Andy Jr. in a long time. I go by Drew.”
Now that I know who he is, I see the resemblance to my former neighbor, but he’s filled out and up.
As a kid, he was lanky, almost clumsy, as if he was growing faster than his brain could keep up.
He was a year younger than my sister Kit in school, so that makes him around twenty-eight. And me, almost thirty-five.
He’s right, my sisters hated him. He was a tease and a torment. No one would have let him in the house if I hadn’t insisted. He wasn’t a bad kid, just lost. I’ve always had a soft heart for those who don’t have a place to belong.
“What are you doing here?” This is the last place I would expect to see a neighbor boy I haven’t seen since I left for college.
“Caleb’s my cousin.”
Right. The cousin that’s visiting from out of town. “You two look nothing alike.”
“Lucky me, right? Who’d want to look like him?”
I laugh. Up until yesterday, I thought Caleb was the most handsome man I’d ever seen.
“Our moms are sisters,” Drew explains. “I’m here visiting for the weekend.”
I can’t get over how grown up he is, or the strange way he’s been introduced back into my life.
“When was the last time we saw each other?” I ask, though it’s almost a yell to be heard over the microphone.
He leans closer to me until there’s only a few inches between us. His breath is warm on my ear. I shiver.
“Want to go outside?”
I glance to the corner where Caleb and Mallory stand, their arms wrapped around each other. I definitely want to get out of here. With nothing in the oven, I’m free to escape.
“Yes.”
As I remove my apron, Andy points to the front where it says, “Kiss me, I cook.” It was a Christmas gift from Mallory a few years ago.
“Any takers on your offer?” he asks.
I laugh at his question, though my cheeks heat with embarrassment. I’ve kissed no one with these lips in a long, long time. The gift was a joke we both found funny at the time, but now it feels like a mean prank.
I push Drew out of the door because from the corner of my eye the Love Birds are making their way to the front for another song. I’ll pass this time around.
Sound still carries through the closed door, but it’s quieter out here, even with the noise of the traffic. Also, hot. The sun has sunk below the strip mall across the street and that helps, but not enough. My bare feet are warmed by the heat of the cement walkway.
“Man, summer in Tucson is brutal,” Drew says.
“Especially this summer. Where is it you moved to? It sounds like you’re not used to the heat.”
“Not to this degree.” He gives me a side-eye, as if to ask, You get it?
I’m laughing again. It’s been a night of surprises, but he is a good one.
Instead of answering my question about where he lives, he goes back to my previous question.
“The last time I saw you,” he says, “Was at my grandma’s funeral fifteen years ago.”
I remember now. They had already moved out of Tucson, but then a year later, Helen died unexpectedly. I missed a day of college classes to attend her funeral.
“I loved your grandma,” I say. “I missed her for a long time after she passed.”
“She was one-of-a-kind.”
“It’s really been fifteen years?” I place my elbows on the railing and look out at the road. “I feel so old.”
“You definitely don’t look old.”
This grin is so big my cheeks ache. “I’ll pay you in nachos for that compliment. Now tell me what you’ve been up to. My sisters will want to know everything when I mention you were here.”
“Ha! Your sisters hated me.”
“Well, you were a hooligan who went around stealing bikes from yards and rolling them down the ravine.”
His eyes widen. “You knew that was me?”
“Everyone knew it was you.”
He mimics my pose with his elbows on the railing. “Huh. You never mentioned it, and I hung out at your house pretty regularly.”
“I figured you got enough lectures from everyone else.”
“I did, but ‘hooligan?’ Most people just say ‘troublemaker.’”
“I read a lot. An expansive vocabulary is the byproduct. Are you trying to distract me from hearing about the last fifteen years?”
His smile disappears. His gaze focuses on something far in the distance. “Maybe a little. When I was sixteen I was arrested for grand theft auto and sent to juvenile detention for a year.”