Nash was from Connecticut but—I never thought to ask where.
I didn’t think it mattered, because it’s not like I planned on telling him that I—well, Kels—moved to Connecticut. Never did I ever think he’d be here, with me, in Middle-of-Freaking-Nowhere, Connecticut. Because who really lives here? No one I’ve ever talked to has even heard of this place.
If Nash knew Kels was in Connecticut, he’d want to meet. I wasn’t—I’m not—ready for that. We were supposed to meet in Washington Square Park, ready for orientation.
It was supposed to happen then, when I would be the closest version of Kels, for real, living the life Nash and Kels always talked about.
I glance at my phone-clock. Ollie texted me that dinner was almost ready fifteen minutes ago. I pack up my laptop and wipe the sweat beads off my forehead. Breathe in and out slowly to try to force my heart rate to recover.
Nash is here. In Middleton.
We’re going to school together. We’re going to graduate together.
He has no clue who I am.
And … I have no clue what to do.
If I could never tell Nash who I really am online, where I’m the most confident, chill version of me, how can I ever form the words in person?
* * *
Ollie heated up ramen noodles for dinner and nothing is okay.
I got the Ariel Goldberg cover reveal, but Nash is here.
Ollie is twirling noodles with a fork and watching Netflix on his phone. My bowl is set up at the seat adjacent to his and my chest tightens because Ollie made dinner. He set the table, even filled a pitcher with water, but there are only two place settings.
“It’s probably cold,” Ollie says, pausing his show. “If you want to, reheat it on the stove.”
I sit next to Ollie. “Where’s Gramps?”
Ollie shrugs. “Asleep, I think. I don’t know. He hasn’t come out of his room since you left.”
I pick up my fork and twirl noodles. “It’s not even six.”
“Yeah. I’m really confused.”
“Me too,” I say. “Thanks for dinner.”
Ollie snorts. “Ramen isn’t dinner. But honestly, it was the best option. Gramps only has cereal and snack foods, basically. We need to go grocery shopping.”
I eat the cold ramen. Ollie returns his attention to his show. If Grams were here, we’d be eating matzo ball soup. It’d be a whole production, Ollie and me helping to roll the matzo meal into walnut-size balls after the stock has been simmering on the stove all afternoon. I wasn’t expecting a Grams-quality dinner tonight—but I did expect the three of us to at least eat dinner. Together.
He’s not okay, Grams, I think, looking down at the necklace resting against my heart. In my head, I talk to Grams a lot. Like whenever I read a really great book, or see a movie I know would make her laugh, or have a Major Life Event.
Does meeting Nash in person qualify as a Major Life Event?
Grams would call it destiny.
We were making frosting together when One True Pastry was born, three summers ago.
“Did you always know you wanted to be an editor?” I had asked, adding two drops of purple food coloring to buttercream frosting. We were going to surprise Gramps with lemon lavender today, even though red velvet is his real favorite.
Grams nodded. “Always. I love stories. Figuring out what makes them tick, how the pieces fit together. Seeing people like you fall in love with them.” She winked at me as she stirred her own bowl of yellow frosting, her eyebrows pinched in concentration. Lavender lemon meant we had to use two piping bags to swirl the colors together.
“Do you think I could maybe be an editor?”
My cheeks flushed immediately. I loved talking about books with her, but I’d never vocalized my publishing dreams out loud before to anyone. It seemed absurd to even try when Grams was already, like, the Judy Blume of children’s editors.
Grams looked at me. “I think you’d be an amazing editor, Hal. But the way you talk about books, you’re already a publicist.”
I dropped my spatula, contemplating. “Publicist?”
I had never even thought about it, but I liked the way the word sounded on my lips. Talking about books was the only time I felt like my words fit together.
“You should start a blog. See if it’s a good fit,” she said, wiping her hair out of her warm eyes, looking at me like she could see right through me.
I laughed. I loved reading book blogs—I got so many great recs from my