Chapter 11
MAISIE
Ihaven’t looked at the list since the other night with Wren and though I remember one or two items, I’m hoping there’s nothing too embarrassing on here.
The brown faux leather journal sits in my hands, my high school handwriting sprawled across the pages—unknowing that years later I’d be sitting here with a boy I’ve only just met about to finish the Fuck It List.
“Maisie,” he says with a smirk, “is this your way of asking me on a date?” He points to Fuck It List number three; Go on an actual date with a boy. “All you had to do was ask,” he winks.
I know he’s joking but part of me wants to clarify that it’s eighteen year old Maisie, not present Maisie. Even though both would absolutely want to go on a date with him.
“Are you implying you would?” I’m not sure where my confidence came from but being around him makes me feel braver. Maybe it’s the confident energy that he radiates that has me feeling that I can do the same.
I can be brave, I tell myself.
I don’t need to be nervous when he is here.
“Whether or not it was part of your list, I would be stupid to decline a date with the prettiest girl in Ruby Lake.”
“You’re the biggest flirt I know, and I barely know you.”
“Maybe I’m not a flirt, maybe you just make flirting easy.” His smile seems shy unlike his usual demeanor, like he’s nervous.
We sit in silence for a little, just looking at the list. The three tasks that stare back at me.
Go to the fair and go on the ferris wheel to get over my fear.
Go camping. Like in a tent.
Go on a date with a real boy.
“I drove to a town not that far the other day and I think I saw that the fair starts this weekend,” he breaks the silence, “are you free?”
“I’m off at noon on Saturday,” I reply. “My mom is having a birthday party next weekend. I was going to start planning but I’ll do it Sunday.
” In a fit of bravery—and just wanting to be around Henry more—I blurt out, “You’re coming right?
To my mom’s party, I mean. Only if you want to, that’d be a lot of time together and I know I like my alone time so you probably do—”
“I’ll be there,” he interjects. “Let’s just hope you don’t get sick of me.”
“I find it hard to think anyone gets sick of you.”
“You haven’t spent enough time around Miles then, he’s threatened to kick me to the curb multiple times in the last forty-eight hours.” He teases, chuckling softly.
Imagining those two together makes me laugh. They may look similar but they couldn’t be anymore different on the inside.
“How are you two related again? And how have we never met before if Miles has always lived here?`”
“Our dads are brothers, hence the same last name.” My eyes are drawn to his lips as he talks. “It tends to confuse people that we have the same last name but aren’t brothers.”
“Oh, right.” I nod, remembering he mentioned that over text. “I won’t lie, I was confused too but that makes a lot of sense,” I say. “You two are so vastly different, I’m surprised you two are so close.”
“Opposites attract, they say, even in families.” He shrugs. “As for never meeting… I’m not sure. Maybe you and I have crossed paths when we were younger but we’ve both grown since then. Plus, I haven’t been here in years and I like to think I look a lot better than I did all that time ago.”
“Ah,” I say, somehow keeping my eyes on his, thinking that if I look away, he’ll disappear.
“Do you have any siblings?”
“Nope.” I pop the P. “It’s just my mom and me.” I want to elaborate on my lack of a father but decide to go into my daddy issues at a later time.
“She seemed very insistent on me getting to know you.” He looks down and smiles while his fingers play with a dandelion he plucked from the grass. “I think that’s why she initially invited me and Miles to her birthday.”
“Oh my god!” I put my head in my hands, embarrassment filling me from the inside out. “That’s so embarrassing! I’m so sorry.”
He softly pries my hands from my face and I look at him through my lashes. “If it makes you feel any better, my mom would’ve done the same thing,” he reassures me. “She wants me to settle down so bad, it’s almost comical.”
“Every time someone new comes around, my mom always gives me this look.” I eye him with a smirk on my face and a cocked eyebrow—mimicking the look. “But she’s never actually pursued someone for me.”
“I’m glad I was the first,” he leans in closer, his eyes looking between mine, “and hopefully the last.”
I let out a quiet laugh. “You have a way with words where I can’t tell if you’re kidding or not.”
“Are you afraid you’re going to fall in love with me, Winslow?”
I stare at him, my eyes now flickering between his. I’m unsure of how to respond because truthfully, yes, I am afraid I’m going to fall for Henry.
We’re still sitting on the blanket. The silence is loud as I look down at our hands that are so close to touching. I want his fingers tangled in mine, again. I want that feeling forever.
He must see the movement of my head looking down through his peripheral vision because the next thing I know, his pinky is brushing against mine, intertwined in a pinky promise.
A promise of what? I’m not sure… but a promise.
“Remember, just friends,” I whisper in reluctance, hating my own words but knowing that it’s what's for the best.
The quirky grin on his face slightly falters for a second but I don’t miss it.
“Just friends,” he repeats, and I want to take those words off his lips the second he says them.