Chapter 2
The dares started sophomore year, when David and I finally accepted that our lives would continue to overlap, whether we liked it or not.
We’d grown up in the same small town, New Harbor.
Back then, our classes were barely larger than fifteen students.
Teachers sat us next to each other because our last names were Every and Evans.
David had been a loner back then, a quiet, socially awkward kid who built model airplanes and drew comics.
Once we’d gotten to high school, he finally had his growth spurt.
His voice dropped at least five octaves, and he learned how to talk to people without abruptly leaving the conversation.
David earned a spot on the varsity football team, which drew the attention of everyone who loved that sort of thing.
In high school, it was very apparent that David loved getting a rise out of anyone.
He had made it his personal mission to find all the wrong buttons to press.
My responses to his egging were some of his favorites.
I become his go-to. David gravitated toward me without assigned seating.
We bickered enough to convince our friends and every other person in our town that we’d repressed some burning desire for one another.
Both of us applying and being the only people in our graduating class to go to Westbrooke University didn’t help the matter.
After we moved away from home, we’d become the only source of normalcy for one another.
Bumping into each other wasn’t easy on a large campus like Westbrooke.
And yet, we did it with ease. It didn’t mean we liked one another.
It meant we’d gotten so used to each other’s mess that we couldn’t untangle ourselves, even if we tried.
Haven was the first person to see the truth: there wasn’t any untapped love between David and me.
During our freshman year, she warned me not to engage when she noticed how heated I got in his presence. But I couldn’t stand around knowing how far he’d take his contrary, nonsensical opinion without providing pushback.
“Sure, nihilism has its place in society,” I ranted to Haven in our kitchen. It might be too early for a philosophical debate, but David’s response to my very well-thought-out discussion post had me seething.
After my call with my sister, he’d spent another forty minutes waiting for his clothes to dry.
While I had been typing away on my laptop, he’d been typing away on his phone.
It wasn’t until after he left that I realized he’d crafted a lengthy response to my post on hope in a capitalistic society.
His response was three times the required length.
He’d picked apart every bit of my argument without so much as an attempt to see my side of things.
“But we’re doomed if we think nothing matters,” I continued.
Haven stood at the breakfast bar, balancing on one leg while her foot rested on her thigh.
“Doomed might be a strong word. Challenged, maybe,” she said in a calm tone. She sipped green juice through a metal straw.
“You’re on his side?” I raised a brow. Haven was Ms. Optimism. In her world, everything had a divine purpose. She loved meaning and would insist nothing happened by accident. Everything in the universe was unfolding for your good…if your karma was good.
“I’m not on anyone’s side.” She insisted as she tugged her sisterlocks into a ponytail.
Haven’s dark brown skin glowed with the shimmery highlight placed carefully on her high cheekbones and the wide bridge of her nose.
The bracelets on her wrist jangled like morning bells.
Between the comforting scented oil she wore, beautifully glowing skin, and noisy jewelry, it was impossible not to know when she was around.
“I’m just considering his viewpoint. You know, like you say, people should.” She gave me a teasing smile.
I scoffed and grabbed my favorite mug. As the coffee machine hummed, I got a protein bar from the pantry to toss into my bag.
“David sees the world with a lot of sharp edges,” Haven said.
“And whose fault is that?”
“Circumstances?” She shrugged. “All I’m saying is that it’s difficult—and sometimes not even natural — for someone to look on the bright side.”
I frowned. “I know that.”
“Really? You seem to ignore the possibility. You struggle to extend grace to him — and him only. It makes me wonder…”
“Haven, don’t. Just because you were a psych major for a semester doesn’t mean you know how to analyze a person’s actions properly. Not even professionals can do that.”
“Maybe you see yourself in him?” She continued, ignoring my plea.
“Please, can we have one conversation where you’re petty like me?
” I groaned and stretched across the island to grab her hand, squeezing to emphasize my desperation.
Placing my hand over hers reminded me that I kept forgetting to make her ten-step skincare routine a daily practice.
My warm brown skin could use a bit of her dewy glow and cloud-like softness.
“Petty ranting is so, so fun. I promise you’ll love it.” I pulled away to grab the hand lotion in my bag. Being Ms. Go, go, go, didn’t mean I had to live a life of dry knuckles.
Haven laughed. “I’m sure it is. But bringing you back to earth is even more fun.”
I sighed. The coffee machine clicked, so I turned my attention to something that would go my way this morning. “Fine, whatever. I’m over it.”
“Really?”
“For sure.” I watched the coffee drip into my cup, its color a perfect creamy brown.
“You’re outlining a five-page opposition essay in your head, aren’t you?”
I chewed on my lip, ready to deny. Despite only knowing each other since freshman year orientation, Haven and I had become experts at understanding one another’s tells.
“Ten-page, actually.” I joined her at the island, sitting instead of standing because morning kitchen yoga had never and would never appeal to me.
“But I’m stopping now. The days of letting David Evans make me out to be some raging, argumentative know-it-all are in the past.”
“Very recent past,” Haven murmured with a smile.
“Besides, I have to be on my best behavior. I represent something bigger.”
“Hope?” Haven asked.
“Even better.” I pulled out my phone and opened the BWD sign-up form. “Check this out. Here’s this year’s executive board sign-ups.”
Haven whistled, impressed.
“Not exactly overflowing so that we’d have to hold a vote with non-board members,” I said, shoulders sagging a bit.
“Oh, how you love your politics.” Haven laughed.
“A good debate will feed me for weeks,” I agreed. “Regardless, we’re going to have an actual team this year. And I have a good feeling about them. They’re going to show up and do the work.”
“That’s incredible.” She squeezed my bicep. “I’m proud of you. That marketing push over the summer was brilliant. Thanks to you, we have a full executive board. And though I adore being your all-rounder, I’d like to just crunch the numbers without having to worry about everything else.”
Haven joined BWD as treasurer, but as attendance waned and people began to leave, she became my everything.
The organization was too buttoned-up and preppy for a woman who dressed in flowy skirts, carried crystals, and communed with her ancestors.
But she put on a blazer and pencil skirt for me, and that’s when I knew I’d give her the world as soon as I could.
“I even got that one girl from my design class to agree to be our graphic designer,” I said.
“That shy girl? Covee?” Haven raised a brow. “You’ve been trying to get her to talk since freshman year.”
“Tell me about it.” I sighed, pleased that everything seemed to be coming together.
“So, now that we have an executive board…” Haven looked a little hesitant to ask her question. “Is the ball a go?”
Low ticket sales and the withdrawal of three sponsors caused the cancellation of last year’s ball.
I smiled. “I can say we’re eighty percent in the clear.”
Haven clapped. “Oh my God, I’ve been waiting for this day.”
I laughed. As a former homeschooler, Haven had had no experience with school dances. This was as close as she was going to get.
“I’m going to hold a vote on themes in a couple of weeks,” I said. “Any ideas you want to toss in the ring? I’m thinking gothic or old Hollywood. A couple of the girls wanted Regency or disco.”
“Masquerade, please, please. I’ve dreamed of this,” she pleaded. “Masks, hidden identity, and falling for a girl I may never know in one night.”
“It’ll be on the list,” I promised. “And we’ll let democracy do its work.”
I typed ‘masquerade’ in my notes app, adding it to the long list of ideas I’d gleaned from other board members. Before I could relock my phone, a text from Mr. Thorn In My Side came through.
David
Don’t forget about tonight. A no-show means an automatic forfeit.
I scoffed and responded:
I know what it means. I made the rule. Why don’t you just worry your pretty little face about your part? K?
David
She thinks I’m pretty. I’m blushing.
The thought of David blushing had me shaking my head. Despite his pale complexion, I’d long ago learned he barely changed shades.
“Hey, don’t forget an umbrella today.” Haven’s warning made me look up from my phone. “It’s going to rain, and your hair’s too nice to ruin.”
I frowned because that wasn’t on today’s forecast. “You sure? They said it’d be sunny all day.”
“Trust,” she said, and wiggled her fingers to emphasize her arthritis. “You don’t want that five-hour installation to go to waste.”
“Alright, thanks.” I tucked my phone into my pocket and grabbed my bag. “I’m off to conquer the world. Do you need anything while I’m at it?”
“Bones of our enemies would make a good broth for tonight.” Haven winked.
“Done. I’ll see you for dinner.”
“Love you,” she said.