a date with?” I can tell Ava’s warring between her frustration with Danielle and her curiosity. “One of Dean’s friends? Wait, was it Cody?”
“Hey, guys.” Andrew pulls out the chair next to mine and sits down. Danielle is texting on her phone and she barely spares him a glance. I know it’s one of her tactics, one of the moves she tried to teach me when I first met Dean.
“How come you guys aren’t eating outside?” Andrew asks. “It’s so nice out.”
Great. We’re talking about the weather. Has it really come to that?
“We’re trying to keep our coca-kale-a out of the sun,” Ava answers. “It gets so gross when it’s warm.”
“It’s gross when it’s cold too,” Hannah says.
“Fair enough,” he says. He looks over at Danielle. “Hey, Danielle.”
She sets down her phone. “Oh, hey, Drew.”
“How was the rest of your weekend?”
“Uneventful.”
I think about what Hannah said—how they don’t actually know each other. In this moment, it seems kinda true. But then again, maybe they’re nervous. Maybe Andrew feels uncomfortable he admitted his secret to me, that he knows I’m watching their interaction and I know.
Ava studies Andrew for a second and then looks at Danielle and then at me, glancing between all of us so fast she looks dizzy.
“Is this the guy you went on a date with?”
“I’m the guy,” Andrew says.
Ava clicks her tongue. “Of course you are. I should have known.” She stands and picks up her empty tray and cup of sludge. “Nobody tells me anything.”
After school on Thursday I have work with Dean—the first time I’ve seen him since the double date from hell—and weirdly I’m kinda calm about it. It’s a relief not to feel nervous every time I see him now, especially since I’ve become an anxious mess around Andrew.
Now that it’s May, the weather is suddenly warmer, the air in the store heavy and stagnant. Summer is right around the corner, the end of the school year so close I can almost taste it.
Like everything else, the heat looks good on Dean. He has a fine sheen of sweat on his arms and forehead that makes him glisten.
“Does this place have any air-conditioning?” I ask, waving my arm in front of my face to cool off. I drop my backpack down on a chair in the break room and come back out, acutely aware of how sticky I am in all of the most unflattering places.
He smiles his aching, lopsided grin and shrugs.
“There’s a fan in the back room, but personally I think you look pretty good all flushed.” At his words, my face gets even hotter and I know it must look bright red. But I forget to feel self-conscious when he grabs my butt and pulls me forward into his heavy embrace. He kisses me, leaving his hand there and squeezing. I can’t believe his hand on my butt feels normal now. I feel like I’ve come a million years from the girl who was nervous when his knee touched mine.
I let all of my worries fade away, let my mind melt into a puddle from the heat, from his kiss, my chest fluttering with practiced excitement. This is what I need more than anything. Why did I let myself get so anxious about Andrew?
“Did you have fun on Saturday?” I ask, pulling away.
“It was fine,” he says.
Oh. Of course. Cue anxiety.
“Fine?”
“I mean, your friends are . . . just . . .” He trails off, not finishing his thought. Instead, he turns back to the counter and begins fiddling with some wires attached to the speakers. “I’m gonna find us an awesome soundtrack for today.”
“My friends are just what?” I ask, my voice sounding sharper than I intended. He plugs his phone into the speakers and shuffles through it.
“I mean, they’re just so . . . high school.” He clicks a button, and blaring trumpets and violins fill the room, triumphant. “John Williams.” He closes his eyes, letting the trumpets wash over him. “This guy has