The Unexpected Everything - Morgan Matson Page 0,70

hanging out with someone they had a bad date with, especially when there’s no possibility of kissing at the end of it? “But if you don’t want me to,” I started haltingly, “I mean—”

“No, no,” Clark said, so quickly that I knew he wanted me to stay. Probably his panic at being left alone with Bertie was overriding any awkwardness about spending more time with me. “It would be great if you could stay. I mean, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” Even as I said it, I was wondering what I was doing. I pushed myself to standing carefully, pulling my dress down. “I’m just going to get his water dish.”

“Great,” Clark said, nodding, then looking at the dog. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

I headed toward the kitchen, unlocking my phone as I walked. I started to compose a text to my dad, letting him know what was happening—I had a work emergency. Sick dog needs to be watched over tonight. Will be home in a.m.—when my phone beeped with an incoming text.

BRI

Andie, you okay? Why did you need a vet? What’s happening? We’re about to take off here—should we wait?

PALMER

Where even are you? We thought you’d be back by now.

ME

Dog sickness emergency.

So I’m at Clark’s—definitely not coming back tonight

TOBY

PALMER

I’m sorry, Toby—what was that?

TOBY

!!

BRI

Yeah, I’m not sure I entirely understood what you were trying to convey there.

TOBY

I shook my head as I looked at the texts, wondering if Toby was, like me, becoming aware of how hard this was going to be to keep up all summer.

ME

Guys, stop messing with her.

Gotta go—I’ll text tomorrow!

PALMER

Send updates!

BRI

Seconded

TOBY

PALMER

Didn’t quite get your meaning there, T.

I smiled as I dropped my phone back in my pocket, knowing this might go on for a while. I picked up Bertie’s water dish, filled it with fresh water, and then dropped in a few ice cubes, in case that made it more appealing.

Then, carrying it carefully, I walked back to the laundry room. Clark was sitting cross-legged next to Bertie, patting his head every few seconds. “Any change?” I asked as I set the water bowl down in front of the dog. Bertie raised his head slightly, glanced at the water, then closed his eyes again.

Clark shook his head. “The same,” he said. “But he’s not shaking anymore, so that’s a good sign, I think.”

I nodded as I sat down on Bertie’s other side, tucking my legs beneath me and smoothing my dress down. I met Clark’s eye over Bertie’s head, and then we both looked away again. I told myself firmly that it would be fine as I ran my hand over the hair on the dog’s back. We could just watch the dog. It wasn’t like we had to talk or anything.

• • •

It turns out there’s only so long you can sit in silence and stare at a sick dog. And that amount of time is apparently twenty minutes. “So,” I said, when I absolutely, positively couldn’t stand the silence for a moment longer. “You’re from Colorado?”

Clark looked at me over Bertie and gave me a half smile, the kind you give when you’re being polite, not because you’re happy about something. I looked in vain for the dimples, but it seemed they only emerged for the real thing. “I am,” he said. He didn’t say anything else, and as silence fell again, I took a breath to ask a follow-up. I really didn’t even care what it was. I’d see who could recite all the state capitals faster. I just couldn’t take the quiet anymore. But before I could say anything, Clark went on. “I was born in Steamboat Springs, but when I was eleven, we moved way out to the country, almost to the Wyoming border.”

“That must have been cool,” I said. I was pretty sure I’d been to Colorado once—I had vague recollections of a white-water rafting trip from when I was little—but when I thought of the state, it was vague images culled from movies and magazines, of endless blue skies, snow-capped mountains, fields of green.

Clark shrugged as he ran his hand over Bertie’s head. “In some ways,” he said after a moment. He looked up at me and smiled quickly, a more genuine smile this time. “I got to run around in the woods a lot. That was pretty great, because that’s basically all you want to do when you’re eleven.” I must have looked skeptical at that, because Clark’s smile widened. “Well, if you’re me. But it