insensitive jerk? A full-of-myself diva? Do they mistrust me? Do they mistrust Blake?
Speaking of whom …
I’d hoped Blake would volunteer information at lunch today about the conversation I interrupted at his house. I still can’t shake Garrett’s intensity about insisting he won’t leave Blake alone with … with whom? It has to be me. Who else could he have been talking about? But there has to be some easy explanation—the brothers were pretty much talking in shorthand, like there was some deal, some arrangement, that they’d both agreed to well before the conversation took place, like the way some siblings agree to take turns riding shotgun in the car or whatever. It’s a brother thing, right? So why wouldn’t Blake just tell me what they were talking about? He’s got to know I’m curious.
But all Blake is doing is making small talk, munching an apple while I eat my sandwich in the warm muggy breeze. I can smell the salt in the air. How crazy that I used to count the days until our next beach visit. Now that I live here, I haven’t been to the beach a single time. It’s just a couple of blocks over, and yet it seems almost sacrilegious to go there without my parents. Maybe one day soon, I’ll allow myself to revisit the girl I was before they died. Or maybe that girl died that day too. Maybe that’s why I’ve gotten so close to Blake so fast; he’s my express-train ticket to my new life.
“ … Mr. Loring’s class?”
I squint at Blake. “Sorry; what did you say?”
“I was asking about your test in Mr. Loring’s class,” Blake says, his tone a little peevish. “You seem awfully distracted.”
I shake my head. “No, no … sorry. My brain’s still a little fried from staying up late to finish my paper.”
His expression clouds over. “And that’s my fault?”
“What?” I peer at him closer. “What do you mean?”
“I mean if I hadn’t invited you to dinner yesterday, you could have been home working on your precious paper. So sue me, for god’s sake.”
“No. No! That’s not what I meant at all. I’m sorry, I had a great time at your house. Really. I was so happy to meet your parents. Please don’t think that’s what I meant … ”
He sets his jaw and glowers into space.
Oh god. Can I do anything right these days?
“Blake, please don’t be mad at me.”
But he’s still glaring straight ahead. I lean in and peck him on the cheek. “You’re a total goofball if you think I’d rather do homework than hang out with you,” I say in his ear.
He holds his pose for a moment, then his face softens. “You’re sure?” he asks me.
“Uh, duh,” I say, lightly squeezing a knuckle into his dimple, desperate to inject some levity into such a strange, fraught moment. How did things go south so quickly? How totally tone-deaf am I becoming to my interactions with other people? Have I turned into a self-absorbed twit since my parents died?
“Prove it,” Blake says, but his voice is playful. “Go for a drive with me after school today.”
I consider his words for a moment. A drive … just the two of us? That would be a first. It actually sounds pretty awesome …
I pop the side of my head with my hand. “Can’t.”
Uh-oh. The sullen expression is settling back into his face.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “It’s kind of annoying, but my aunt decided I should see a therapist for a few sessions, you know, to help deal with my parents’ death. I just remembered I have an appointment after school.”
I study his face to gauge his reaction, but for a long moment his expression is inscrutable.
“I’m really sorry,” I say.
He finally shrugs. “It’s okay. Really. I think it’s a good idea you’re seeing a therapist. People have told me I should do that too, but, I dunno, I just feel like I should be strong enough to deal with things myself. Plus, I just remembered, I’m volunteering at the children’s hospital after school today.”
I nod. “Maybe that’s something we can do together after my counseling sessions are over. I’d love that.”
He tosses his apple core into a trash can.
“Don’t be mad?” I cajole.
He’s silent for a moment, then sticks his tongue out at me. I laugh at him.
“I can never stay mad at you,” he tells me, then kisses me on the lips. “Gotta go. I’ve got my own test to study for.”
As he walks away,