“Are we going to Grammy’s for dinner?” I can feel my questions needling at her.
“That’s the plan.” She sighs, closes the cover on her iPad, and stands. “I need a pedicure. And you’re clearly emotionally afflicted in some kind of way.”
I moan. “Is it that obvious?”
“All right, up and at ’em! We’re getting these little piggies painted and you’re driving.”
I run to grab my keys. “I’ll meet you outside! But I get to pick your colors this time.”
She flips her hair. “Pea-green toes can be very elegant, thank you very much.”
As I’m running back through the kitchen after putting on my shoes, Tucker’s there washing his hands in the sink. He shakes his hands out, unable to find a towel. Sunlight cascades down his face, like a damn Instagram thirst trap come to life.
I reach into a drawer and hand him a fresh dish towel, breaking the moment and snapping myself back to reality. “Here.”
“Thanks.” He dries his hands and hangs the towel over the edge of the sink.
“I’m sorry,” I say, “you don’t owe me any kind of explanation about why you were at the drag show last night.”
He smiles, the lines around his eyes wrinkling. “I kept wanting to go up and talk to you.”
“Me?” I ask. “We don’t even know each other. Or even like each other for that matter.”
Tucker shakes his head. “Waylon, I’ve known you my whole life. And I’ve never said I don’t like you.”
“I mean, I guess we know each other in the small-town kind of way. But you haven’t exactly been friendly to me in the past.”
He’s so close. It’s so quiet. Dad is gone. Mom is outside. Clem is at Hannah’s. It’s just me and Tucker, this boy I’ve known for my whole life apparently, but who is still such a mystery to me.
“Oh, and you’ve never been a jerk before?”
I suck in a breath. “That’s not the impression you left me with.”
Tucker bites down on his lip. I think our rib cages might be made of magnets, because no matter how hard I try to pull back and knock some sense into my head, I can’t seem to stop myself from—
“Waylon! These toes are done waiting,” my mother calls from the garage.
I take a step back, gasping. “Be right there!”
Tucker doesn’t seem at all fazed.
“I better go,” I tell him. “You have to go.”
“After you,” he says smoothly.
I snatch the keys off the counter and march outside in my most awful cargo shorts and polo shirt. “Let’s go, Mom.”
“Oh, Tucker,” Mom says. “Thank you so much.”
“Yes, ma’am. Anytime,” he tells her, on his best behavior. “I texted Mr. Brewer the info on what parts we need to order. I’d be happy to install them for you when everything comes in.”
She cups his cheek. “You are such a wonderful help. I insist you join us for dinner tonight.”
“Oh, ma’am, I’ve, uh . . . I can’t this evening, but thank you.”
She points a finger at him as she gets into the passenger door of the truck. “You’ll not elude my dinner invitations again, young man.”
“Yes, ma’am, I’ll take a rain check,” he says as he closes the garage door behind him.
The moment my mother is fully seated in the car, I reverse out the driveway. “Well, now hang on a minute,” she says. “Let me put my seat belt on. And we didn’t even see to it that Tucker got on his way okay.”
“Mom, I guarantee you on a Sunday afternoon, there’s a wait at the nail salon, and if anything is wrong with that boy’s truck, you and I are the last people on earth who could offer him any help.”
In the rearview mirror, I watch as Tucker steps out into the street, his hands in his pockets, as we drive away.
Eighteen
I barely sleep on Sunday night thinking about the prospect of seeing Tucker on Monday morning in first period. But when Monday morning finally comes, Tucker is nowhere to be found.
I think about texting him, since we have a prom court meeting after school, but what am I supposed to say? I think you might be gay and please don’t bail on this dumb meeting we’re supposed to attend?
As I walk to choir, Alex bounces at my side. “Wasn’t Saturday night absolutely epic? And next Saturday is Kyle’s big party. You’re coming, right? Would karaoke be fun? Do our peers appreciate karaoke?”
I pat his shoulder gently. “I think you might want to