Never Always Sometimes - Adi Alsaid Page 0,73

like as they got ready

to sing on the far corner.

“Seriously? This is the first red light we get in town?”

Dave broke out in a smile. “I don’t know about a movie. But I am

definitely not going to school right now.”

They pulled into Dave’s driveway, which was empty, Brett and his

dad off at work. As soon as the car was stopped, Julia unbuckled her

seat belt, leaned across the console, put her hand on the back of his

neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

His lips were not stiff or unwelcoming. There was no sign of his

mind being on Gretchen. Far from it, actually. They fit as wonderfully

as they had last night, and for one blissful moment she knew that there

were many of these on the way.

Then Dave put a gentle stop to it with that signature smack of lips

ending a kiss. His hand was on the side of her face, his eyes set on

hers. She smiled at him and was about to move back in when his eyes

flitted to something in the rearview mirror. “Shit,” Dave said, like the wind had just been knocked out of him. Julia looked behind and saw

Gretchen’s van behind them. The door was half-open, Gretchen’s face

DAVE & JULIA 247

already in tears. She was wearing her hair in this side-ponytail thing

that should have looked ridiculous but somehow worked.

The sound of the van door slamming shut rang out in the stillness

of the afternoon. Dave quickly pulled away from Julia, one hand

already on the door handle. “I’m sorry,” he said, although Julia wasn’t

sure who that was meant for. She remained frozen in the car as Dave

tried to chase after Gretchen, who’d already started her car.

Julia watched it all through the tiny slit of a back windshield in

her Miata. Gretchen crying, Dave looking miserable, trying to explain

himself. It was only a few moments until Gretchen peeled away, but

for Julia it had felt like a very long time, like some uncomfortably

extensive scene from a soap opera, all close-ups and faces stretched

into exaggerated misery. When Gretchen was gone, Dave lingered

for a long moment at the edge of his driveway, hands dropped at his

sides, his face hidden from view. It felt like a moment in limbo, like the slightest breeze would either send Dave chasing after Gretchen or pull

him back to Julia. Julia held her breath, as if that was all it would take to sway him.

“Please,” she found herself whispering. “Please.”

A car drove past, the driver switching radio stations, casting furtive

glances at the road ahead, oblivious of what Julia was about to lose

or gain. “Please,” she said again. It took Dave a while, a hesitation she would allow him as long as he got back in the car. His arms were at

his sides, his head hanging low. It felt like his decision would be based on something slight, the flapping of butterfly wings somewhere far off

248 NEVER ALWAYS SOMETIMES

sending Dave away from her. When he turned around and slowly slid

back in, Julia felt herself ease.

Dave smacked his head back and hit the car seat, his eyes closed, his

face entirely stress again. “Fuck.”

Julia froze, not knowing what to say or do, until she remembered

that this was still Dave. She was still herself. Gretchen might be

heartbroken right now, and Julia wouldn’t wish that on anyone. But

she’d just kissed Dave, not for the first time, and definitely not for the last. After all, he was here. He’d chosen Julia.

“You know,” Julia said. “My instinct right now is to be a supportive

girlfriend. But I have no idea what that would entail, in this specific

situation. So I’m gonna be a supportive best friend and say this: You

wanna go get mac ‘n’ cheese?”

She didn’t get as much of a reaction as she’d hoped, just Dave’s

little snort/laugh thing. Not overwhelmingly reassuring. Then Dave

opened his eyes and smiled at her. “You know how wonderfully bizarre

it is to hear you call yourself my girlfriend?”

“I think I do,” she said, and leaned back into him.

DAVE & JULIA 249

LAZY

BEFORE, WHEN DAVE had dreamed about love, this is what it

looked like:

It was lazy. Love was lazy as hell. Love laid around in bed, warm

from the sheets and the sunlight pouring into the room. Love was

too lazy to get up to close the blinds. Love was too comfortable to

get up and go pee. Love took too many naps, it watched TV, but not

really, because it was too busy kissing and napping. Love was also

funny, which somehow made the bed more comfortable, the laughter

warming the sheets, softening the mattress and the lovers’ skin.

Dave was staring at