I don’t know if this information lies in pre-Meg green light or post-Meg red. It’s a little of both. I decide to be as honest as I can, without fully going there.
“Yeah. I’ve thought about it.”
“What would you say to him if you found him?”
What’s with all the questions? In all our years of friendship, Dave never once asked me about my dad.
I don’t know how to respond. We’re getting too close to the danger zone. I shrug. “What would you say to your mother if you could see her again?”
“Well, that’s different. My mother didn’t choose to leave me,” Joni says.
I suck in a breath.
“Oh shit, Ryden. I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant.” She puts a hand on my shoulder.
I stare at the setting sun. “I know, I know, you say things you don’t mean. It’s a fault. You’re working on it.”
Joni sighs. “What I meant was what I would say to my mother is different because—”
“Believe me, I know all the different ways someone can leave you,” I bite out.
There’s silence as the last of the sun disappears over the horizon.
“Can we go back to having fun now?” Joni asks, her voice more unsure than I’ve ever heard it.
I glance at her. She’s looking at me with a hopeful grin, holding out a handful of Pixy Stix. I can’t help it. I laugh. Joni’s really freaking good at knowing exactly how to make me feel better—even when she was the one to make me feel shitty in the first place. “Another peace offering?”
“You could say that.”
I take a blue one. “Where did you get these?”
“From my bag.”
“What else you got in there?”
She holds it out to me. “See for yourself. I have no secrets.”
“Except for the tattoo,” I remind her.
“You know how to make that secret go away, friend.” She points to my eyebrow.
I rifle through her bag. I’ve never looked through a girl’s bag before. Meg didn’t carry a purse, just a backpack filled with journals. And Shoshanna and the girls I used to be friends with acted as if their bags contained the secrets of the universe.
Joni’s got all sorts of shit in hers. The expected stuff: keys, wallet, phone, lip balm. But she’s also carrying a bottle of water, a large Ziploc filled with more candy than most kids score on Halloween, a book (Tempted by Lust: Book 4 of the Bahamas Bikers Series, which I hold up, eyebrows raised, causing her to just smile and shrug), an extra pair of flip-flops, an old-fashioned compass, and a tiny plastic pinwheel.
I hand the bag back to her and hold my hand out to help her to her feet. “So what’s the Bahamas Bikers series about?” I ask as we walk back to the car. “I assume you’ve read the first three already?”
“It’s a romance novel series, Ryden. What do you think it’s about?”
I laugh and shake my head. So she reads books about hot guys. Major check in the not-gay column.
A little while later, I pull up in front of Joni’s house but don’t get out of the car this time. “Say hi to your magic room for me,” I say.
Joni smiles. “Magic room. I like that.” She leans toward me. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow?”
She’s really close. She smells like fresh air and Pixy Stix and the goopy ointment from her tattoo. She licks her lips, and her mouth is so close to mine I’m surprised her tongue doesn’t graze my own lips along the way.
Holy shit. Not gay. Definitely not gay. My heartbeat speeds up, but I don’t know if it’s from anticipation or panic. This was not supposed to happen. Joni was supposed to be safe, a friend. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”
And then she does it. The thing I knew she was going to do but wouldn’t let myself believe. She kisses me. Her lips brush across mine. My body reacts before my brain can catch up. I pull her to me and drink her in. The kiss is frantic and hungry and wild. I’m acting on autopilot, doing exactly what I’ve done every other time a girl has kissed me.
And then Joni is in my lap. I don’t know how she got there. I wasn’t paying attention. But she’s straddling me, her back pressed up against the steering wheel. She takes my hand out of her hair and guides it down her body. Suddenly, it’s like the plug has been pulled on my adrenaline supply, and I’m more awake than I’ve