We stay there for an hour, talking to him like he’s still around to hear us. Mom had started doing it the first year he died. At first it felt weird, knowing that we were talking to a headstone instead of a real person.
But I’ve grown used to it over the years. To be honest, it feels comforting in a way. That even though he’s no longer with us, coming here and talking to him make it feel like he’s still around somehow—listening and still a part of our daily lives.
After Mom finishes telling Dad about the Bon Jovi concert she and Kathy went to—with me rolling my eyes while she giggled like a teenager the entire time—we head out and drive over to the Mediterranean restaurant just right outside of town.
It was Dad’s favorite restaurant so Mom and I always make it a point to eat there after we visit his grave. It became a tradition.
Mr. Grayson, the owner of the restaurant, walks up to us not even a minute after we settled in a corner booth. “Bethany, Riley, what can I get the two of you?” Although he’s asking both me and Mom, his eyes are fixed on her alone.
“Hello, Mike.” Mom smiles at him, making him blush behind his black rimmed glasses. “Just the usual.”
Usual means bolognese for me and vegetarian pasta for her, plus smoked salmon burger—Dad’s old favorite—which we always share.
I wait for Mr. Grayson to walk out of earshot before telling Mom, “You know that guy is into you, right?”
She looks a little taken aback at my declaration, but then laughs dismissively when she recovers. “Honey, you’re imagining things.”
I ignore her reaction. “It’s glaringly obvious. He’s the owner. He doesn’t need to wait on us at all. But he does. Every. Single. Time. Think about it, Mom.”
Seriously. I don’t think there was ever a time he didn’t take our orders.
She still doesn’t look convinced though. “Just because a person is acting a certain way doesn’t mean there’s something to it. He’s probably just being a dedicated owner.”
“Maybe. But I don’t see him serving other tables.” I glance around to prove my point. Sure enough, the owner is nowhere to be found. “Come on, Mom. Give him a shot. He’s a widower like you. If that’s not fate, I don’t know what is.” I wiggle my brows at her.
Mom lets out a resigned sigh. “Riley, why are you pushing this?”
Before I can answer, Mr. Grayson appears, placing our drinks on the table. “Here you go.” His eyes never leave my mom’s face.
See? I mouth.
A blush steals over her cheeks and she consciously averts her eyes from him.
Wait a minute.
My mouth falls open. She likes him back!
Is that why we keep coming back here? Not because of family tradition but because of her feelings for the owner?
“You are so busted,” I laughingly accuse once we’re alone.
“Oh, stop.” She takes a sip from her lemon mint juice, still blushing.
“Why don’t you ask him out, Mom? It’s been years since Dad died. No one will bat an eye if you do.” When she doesn’t respond, I go on. “You’re not that old. Don’t you want to go back to the dating scene?”
She gives a narrow-eyed stare. “You know, other kids don’t want their parents to date other people.”
“I’m not other kids. I’m Riley Ellison, daughter of Bethany Jones and the late Robert Ellison.”
Mom doesn’t look impressed at my cheesy joke.
“I’m just saying if you want to go out and date, feel free to do so. I’m not going to stand in your way. Just don’t get married again any time soon, okay? At least wait until I’m in college. I don’t want to be around during the honeymoon phase.”
And I mean it wholeheartedly. Dad’s been gone for years, she doesn’t have to stay single for the rest of her life. She doesn’t have to be alone in our house forever. Besides, like I said, she’s not that old. Actually, she’s not even old. She’s only in her forties. Heck, she doesn’t even look her age. She can still pass for a thirty-something.
Save for a few laugh lines, her face is smooth and wrinkle-free. We have the same dark blond hair, although hers is longer than mine and falls down her back—no gray strands in sight. And she does yoga every morning before opening her shop so she’s always maintained a petite frame.
In short, if she wants to date, she can easily do so.
As if she’s finally on board with the idea, Mom leans forward and whisper. “He’s kinda cute though, isn’t he?”
Ten bucks say she’ll get herself a date before we can even leave this place.
******
Mom insists that I don’t need to help out in Happy Serenity, so after we leave the restaurant—with her sporting a giddy smile—she drops me off at home and heads over to the shop by herself.
Who am I to complain about having the rest of the day off?
I’m about to indulge in Teen Wolf marathon in the living room when I receive a text from Mom, saying I can occupy myself by doing some chores. Welp, so much for enjoying a time off.
Changing into a loose shirt and denim shorts, I turn on some music and finally get to work. Not that there’s a lot of work to do. Mom already did the serious cleaning herself this morning. So I just do some dusting then vacuum the carpet in the living room afterwards.
Here’s the thing: I like to dance around and sing aloud to the music when I’m cleaning. It makes the task a little less boring.
And today is not any different. I’m lip syncing, using the TV remote as a microphone, while holding onto the vacuum cleaner with my other hand and shaking my butt to the beat of Taylor Swift’s Shake It Off.
Yep. No care in the world. Why should I? I’m completely alone.
Until I hear someone snickering behind me.
Which effectively halts my movement.
Oh, God. Oh, God. Please let it be my imagination. Please, please, please.
Another snicker.
I close my eyes. Why do these things keep happening to me?
Slowly, I spin around and come face to face with Noah, who’s trying to hold in his laugh.
“Were you dancing or being possessed by a ghost?” Then as if he can’t help it anymore, he doubles over in laughter.
It’s all I can do not to run away and hide.
This is so not fair. Why does he always catch me doing something mortifying?
Cheeks flaming in complete humiliation, I turn off the music and glare with as much dignity as I can muster. “Don’t you know how to use the buzzer?”
“The door was slightly open,” he chokes out, still laughing.
“Yeah, yeah. Very funny.” I roll my eyes, still blushing furiously, setting the remote and vacuum cleaner aside.
He wipes at his eyes. “I gotta say, that’s something you don’t see every day.”
“I thought I was alone, okay? I wasn’t expecting to have an audience.”
Noah just smirks and walks over to the couch.
“What are you even doing here? No, let me guess. You got bored at your house again.”
He plops down on the couch and crosses his legs. “Actually, I want to know what happened between you and Linc at the party.”
My eyes go wide. “Nothing. Nothing happened. Why? Did he say something happened?”
He looks at me like I’m crazy. “I’m just asking for an update. Why do you have to be so weird about it?” He narrows his eyes on mine. “Did you hook up with him?”
“What? No. We just talked and then he drove me home.”
“You are so weird, Ellison.” He grabs the remote and turns on the TV.
Shameless. This boy is shameless.
Blowing out an exasperated breath, I sit next to him. “So, he didn’t say anything?”
“Is he supposed to say anything?”
“I don’t know. That he had fun?”
He snorts. “Linc hates parties. I doubt he had fun.”
“Yeah, I kinda gathered that.” We sit in silence for a few minutes as a football ma
tch plays on TV. Then I remember something. “How about you and Laura?”
“What about me and Laura?”
I saw you two kissing. “Any updates?”
He shrugs. “We’re cool.”
That’s it? No we’re back together so Laura told me to stay away from you? Or Laura told me she cornered you in the girls’ bathroom—I’m sorry she’s such a bully?
Maybe they’re keeping it a secret this time. But they were kissing out in the open, right there for everyone to see. Besides, Laura isn’t the kind of girl who would put up with being someone’s little secret. Especially if that someone is Noah. When they were still together, she loved to flaunt their relationship to the whole school.
“Fine. Don’t say anything,” I mumble.
“What’s that?”
“Nothing.” I pause. “So, what’s the next step with Lincoln?”
Again, he shrugs, his eyes never leaving the TV. “I don’t know.”
My eyebrows pull together. “What do you mean you don’t know? You’re supposed to be my wingman, remember?”
“And you’re supposed to play it cool,” he says in a bored tone. “Not act desperate.”
What the hell? I’ve never acted desperate. I did nothing but followed everyone’s advice. I’ve played it cool where Lincoln is concerned. Where did that comment come from?
And is it just me or does he suddenly seem uninterested? He was so eager to help me out with his best friend. Now he sounds like he can’t be bothered anymore.
“We should go out.”
“Go out?” Is he asking me—
“I’m hungry.” Oh.
I make a face. “Then go home and raid your kitchen.”
“There’s no food there. Mom hasn’t done grocery shopping yet.”
“Then go and buy some.”
“Come with me.”
“I’m not hungry. I already ate.”
“Come on. Just keep me company.” He finishes the sentence with a puppy dog look.
Knowing he won’t stop until I say yes, I sigh and finally relent. “At least give me a few minutes to change. I’m a little dirty.”
“From what?” he scoffs. “You weren’t even cleaning. You were just dancing around.”
Scowling, I fold my arms. “Do you want me to go with you or not?”
He grins sheepishly. “Take all the time you need.”
******
We end up in Java Bean, the cafe near West Shores High. I thought we were just heading to Bobby’s so I just changed into my pink hoodie and kept my denim cutoffs. My hair is pulled up into a messy tail and I’m not even wearing lipgloss.
Why didn’t Noah tell me we’d go where our classmates love to hang out? I would’ve made sure to look more decent. Ugh. Why are boys so oblivious?
“Yo, Noah!”
Great. His friends Julian and Aaron are here. Wait, is Lincoln around, too?
Noah makes his way to his friends, giving me no choice but to follow. I really hope Lincoln is MIA and that it’s just the two of them. I can’t let him see me looking like this.
Oh, there’s a girl with them, too.
Crap.
It’s Tabitha Wilson.
And she doesn’t look happy to see me. In fact, she’s looking me up and down with a sneer on her face.
I hate Noah.
“Cute look, Riley,” Tabitha snickers when we reach their table. “Did you just roll out of bed or is that your usual style?”
Ha ha. How original. At least she knows my name now. Progress.
Noah glares down at her. “Be nice.”
Tabitha and nice? Please, those words don’t mix together.
Flipping her off in my head, I slide down the booth next to Noah.
“What do you want?” he asks. “My treat.”
Like I can pay. I didn’t even think to bring any money. “Banana milkshake is fine.”
Before I can volunteer, Noah stands up and head for the counter to give our orders, leaving me with his friends.
This is so awkward. I feel out of place.
Good thing that Aaron and Julian are talking to each other while Tabitha is texting someone on her phone, so they’re not minding me at all.
She still has that annoying sneer on her face though. Is she texting Laura and telling her that I’m here with Noah?
If that’s the case, then I should probably make a break for the door now and walk home. Sure, it will take me awhile to get there, but I’d rather face the long walk home than brave another showdown with Laura.
I really, really hate Noah.
I give him the stink eye when he returns to our table.
He shoots me a wary look. “Why are you staring at me like that?” He turns to his friends, as if to ask what they’ve done.
Aaron and Julian just shrug.
Tabitha has a knowing smirk on her face.
I really, really want to wipe it off.
Julian clears his throat. “So Riley, Sabrina ever talked about me?”
“Dude,” Aaron and Noah groan in unison.
“What? Can’t hurt a guy to try,” he tells them before giving me an expectant look.
“She does. Sometimes.”
Well, that’s not technically a lie. Bree has brought him up in a conversation maybe once or twice—to complain about him trying too hard to get her attention.
That’s it. Nothing more.
But I don’t have the heart to tell that to him so...there.
It’s not that Julian is bad-looking. He’s actually cute with his dark curly hair and dimpled smile, his mocha skin close to flawless. He doesn’t lack girls’ attention.
Except Bree’s. For some reason, he’s not her type.
Maybe that’s why he tries so hard to win over my best friend. He sees her as a challenge.
“Cool.” Julian flashes a smug smile. “Maybe I should text her or something.”
Oh, crap.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’ll get rejected—again,” Noah says bluntly before I can respond.
Aaron snorts on his drink. “Man, that’s harsh.”
“Did you hear what Riley said? She talks about me.”
Tabitha lets out a sound of disgust. “What do you even see in her? She’s not that pretty.”
She’s prettier than you, that’s for sure.
The table suddenly erupts in laughter.
Oh, God. I just said that thought out loud, didn’t I?
Tabitha is giving me a murderous look as the boys keep on laughing, confirming what I already know.
Great. Now I’m even more screwed than I was before.
CHAPTER NINE
“He drove you home? Riley, that’s huge!”
I take out my book for first period and shut my locker before facing Bree’s wide-eyed stare.
“I can’t believe you waited this long to tell me. Wait, does Morgan know?” She looks a little put out.
“No. You’re the first one I told.”
Come to think of it, it didn’t even occur to me to call either of them over the weekend to discuss what happened. I actually waited. That’s a first.
But that’s not all. It’s like I don’t even feel excited about it. When, in fact, I should be thrilled that there’s a small development with Lincoln. At the very least, I should be mentally replaying that night over and over. But...nothing.
Weird.
“So?” Bree prods as we start to walk to class. “Tell me everything.”
“You make it sound like it was such a big deal. I already told you—he just literally drove me home.”
She looks at me like I just said something crazy. “Are you serious? This is Lincoln we’re talking about,” she whispers furiously. “Of course it’s a big deal. It’s the biggest deal ever.”
“Well, it’s not like he kissed me or anything.” Now that would be the biggest deal.
“Maybe you should’ve made the first move.”<
br />
“And risk being rejected?” I scoff. “Yeah, I’d rather wait for him to do that.”
Maybe that’s the reason why I can’t bring myself to be enthusiastic about it. Lincoln hasn’t made any move yet. That’s enough to dampen the mood, right? Honestly, I don’t know if he’s taking things slow or he’s simply not interested. Noah hasn’t said anything about it.
“Maybe I should ask Noah,” I voice out.
“Ask Noah about what?” Lincoln appears out of nowhere, startling me and Bree. “Sorry,” he says sheepishly, keeping pace with us.
Bree elbows me. Oh my God, she mouths.
“We were just, um, wondering if Noah and Laura are officially back together,” I tell Lincoln, ignoring Bree. “So I thought maybe I should just ask him directly.”
Technically, I did ask. But Noah was vague about it.
As if our conversation has conjured them, we spot Noah against his locker with Laura standing close to him, her hand running up and down his arm.
I frown a little.
Lincoln nudges me playfully. “Did that answer your question?”
“I guess so.” My eyes stay fixed on them even as we walk past.
Lincoln insists on walking us to our class so we let him. But with the way Bree is squirming beside me you’d think he just asked me out. She really needs to get a hold of herself.
Look at me, I’m seriously good at this playing it cool thing.
“This is us,” I say as we stop in front of my and Bree’s class for first period. “So, see you later?”
But instead of leaving and walking to his class, Lincoln steps right into my personal space, causing me to suck in a breath.
“You have something on your cheek.” He plucks it from my face and shows it to me. It’s an eyelash. “I think this is the part where you make a wish.”
Bree looks between the two of us. In a giddy voice, she says, “You know what, Ri, I’ll see you inside.” Then she walks into the room, leaving us alone.
I stifle a groan. Way to be obvious, Bree.
Lincoln clears his throat. “So, Riley, I was thinking—”
“Haven’t you, kids, heard? No loitering in the halls,” a reprimanding voice cuts him off mid-sentence. It’s Noah. He slings his arm over Lincoln’s shoulders. “Come on, Casanova. We’ll be late for class.”
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