I spent twenty dollars on treats just for him, and he turns his nose up at me.”
I snort. “What a jerk.”
“I told him that too. He just gave me those big eyes, and I couldn’t stay mad at him.”
“How old is he?” I ask.
“Nine. Mom got him for me when we first moved here, thought it might help the transition to a new place.”
“That’s cool. I’ve always wanted a cat.” Mom and Dad were strictly no mammalian or reptilian pets. They did let me have a fish when I was ten though. A little goldfish that I named Goldie. Because I was definitely creative with my name choices.
“It’s just up here.” He points, and I can just barely make out the lights along the railing. “Come on!” He grabs my hand, and we race down the trail and toward the bridge. Not slowing down until we’re a yard or two away.
I wait for him to give me back my hand, but he doesn’t. It’s nice. As nice as that night on the roof. Even better now, because it’s getting colder and he’s so impossibly warm. I try not to think about how this is what it would be like. If we could be together, if we could hold hands and walk around town without having to hide ourselves.
No. I push the thoughts away. I can’t. That’ll only make all of this worse.
“You should see this place on the Fourth of July. They have fireworks over the water and everything.” It’s dark, the streetlights along the walkway and the string lights on the railing only doing so much.
I let Nathan lead us right to the edge, and he finally lets go of my hand.
I don’t have the courage to tell him to take it back.
He wasn’t wrong, it’s pretty. It’s small, but it’s enough, with this little beachy area on the other side of the water, and a dock filled with those plastic paddleboats people love to rent for some reason.
“The water creeps me out,” I say, peering over the wood railing, staring at the way the water moves as the fish swim.
“You’re scared of a pond?”
I shrug. “Just never been a fan of water. One time my parents took me to the beach, and I cut myself on a shell. That wasn’t fun.” I still have the pale white scar along the bottom of my foot. That was also my first time in an emergency room. Apparently, it had cut so deep that it wouldn’t clot, and Mom got scared.
“Yikes.”
“Another time I was going swimming, and a bunch of fish kept going by me and it creeped me out. So, I started crying.” Dad told me to “man up,” but I just spent the rest of the day under the umbrella, the sand sticking to my legs like some tight second skin.
Nathan starts laughing uncontrollably, trying to hide his face in his hands. “You’ve been traumatized by the ocean, oh my God.”
“I was five, leave me alone.” I shove him. “Besides, you’ve seen half the things those marine biologists find down there. The ocean’s creepy as hell.”
Nathan does this thing between a scoff and a laugh. “Can’t argue with you.”
I lean against the railing alongside him. “I hate the beach too.”
“Why?”
“I hate sand. It’s coarse, and it gets everywhere.” I wonder if he’ll catch on.
Nathan groans so loud the people jogging at the other end of the park turn to look at us. “Please tell me you didn’t just quote the worst movie of the saga.”
“Thought you might like that.”
“I hate you,” he says with a smile.
We both laugh until we can’t anymore, until the night air is filled with nothing but the sounds of the water. It’s hard to know that just beyond those walls we walked past is an entire city of people. This place is too quiet for that.
“Tonight was fun,” I say.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Thanks for inviting me. I know … I know I haven’t been the easiest person to get along with.”
“It’s okay.” He waits a beat. “Easy people are boring.”
Maybe now is my moment. The moment I tell him the truth, or the moment that I reach over and kiss him. Something. I feel like I owe him that much at least. I weigh it all in my head, but the answer is obvious.
“Hey, Ben.”
“Yeah?” I look up at him. And that makes the decision for me. I can’t tell him; I can’t ruin this. And I don’t even want to think about how he’ll think