“Hey!” Nina snapped me out of my thoughts. “Earth to Sage!” She gestured to Luke’s cherries. “Take yours.”
“Um, why?” I asked as someone called out a hello, and I turned to see Nick approaching our table. Strangely he was alone, no Mortimer guys flanking him. “What’re you guys doing?”
“About to pop our cherries,” Reese answered.
I almost choked on my saliva. “Relax, she’s kidding,” Nina said, holding up her cherry’s stem. “We’re gonna try to tie these in knots with our tongues. Rumor has it that whoever does it first is the best kisser.” Then she did a terrible job of not smiling at Luke, and he did an exceptional one of not noticing. He could be a world-class poker player, I thought, because I knew Luke noticed everything.
“Wanna join, Nick?” Jennie asked.
“But the table’s full!” I blurted before he could answer. My pulse raced. Biking together was one thing, but this? In front of everyone? In front of Charlie? “Sorry,” I added. “There aren’t any seats.”
“Here,” Val said. “He can have mine.” She slid onto Charlie’s lap.
“What innovative thinking,” Luke muttered.
But then Charlie deposited Val back into her own chair. “Take mine instead,” he said, voice hitching a little. “I forgot that there’s a theater meeting tonight.” He kissed Val’s cheek but wasn’t really looking at her. His eyes darted across the table, where Luke looked back at him.
“You can leave,” he deadpanned. “Permission granted.”
Charlie’s lips curled, and he fell into his role, straightening to attention and saluting Luke. “Sir, yes sir!”
Nick eyed his brother’s abandoned seat once Charlie had hurried out of the dining hall and the laughter died down. I quickly swiped into my phone and went to Messages.
“So are you game, Nick?” Reese asked as I fumbled to type and hit send.
“Nah.” Nick looked up from his phone. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Not tonight.” He smiled, but tightly…and not at me. “You guys have fun.”
* * *
I couldn’t run fast enough to the golf course on Saturday, Nick spreading out his blanket when I got there. It went without saying that the sixth hole had become our spot. Late September still brought warm nights, and astronomy lessons if the sky was clear. “What was tonight’s movie?” Nick asked, but I didn’t answer; I just shucked off my backpack and threw myself at him. Nick held the bench-pressing record at the gym, but instead of catching me, he let us fall to the ground.
We didn’t kiss, though.
“Hi,” I whispered.
“Hi,” he whispered back.
Then he did try to kiss me, but I dodged him. Not yet. “You’re going to roll your eyes,” I said, “but we watched an age-old classic. Sweet Home Alabama.”
“Sweet Home Alabama? I love that one!”
“What?!” I said, lightly slapping him on the chest. “You’ve seen it?”
“Of course! It’s epic!” He shook his head and chuckled, then quoted: “‘Why would you want to marry me for, anyhow?’”
“‘So I can kiss you anytime I want,’” I quickly quoted back.
“Well.” Nick grinned. “Now that we have that settled…” He leaned close again.
“Wait.” I untangled myself from his arms. “Wait, I have something…” I unzipped my backpack. “I got these…”
Nick didn’t say anything when I handed him the jar of maraschino cherries, so at first I thought he didn’t get it. “Remember?” I nudged him. “The other day?”
He nodded, but still didn’t speak—he just looked at the jar, stared at the label. “What was up with that?” he asked eventually. “Why didn’t you want me to stay?”
My heart twisted.
No! I’d texted him, so he wouldn’t take Charlie’s chair. Say no! Just leave!
“I mean, yeah, we’re in stealth mode,” Nick went on. “But we’re still friends.”
“No, I know,” I replied, swallowing hard. “I know we’re friends.”
But ever since Nick and I had started hooking up, being his friend on campus had become more complicated.
We were both silent for a minute.
“So who won?” he wondered. “Who’s the best kisser?”
“Oh,” I said. “Um, Val.”
“Ah,” he said, hand finding mine. “Well, good for Charlie, I guess.”
I squeezed his fingers, not having the heart to tell him the truth—that Val hadn’t won the contest, that we hadn’t even attempted it. We’d talked about Nick instead. Gossiped, more like. “Okay, what’s his deal?” Val had asked me. “Tell us, why isn’t he with anyone?”
And for whatever reason, I’d tried to channel my nervousness into coyness: “Who says he’s not?”
“Emma!” Nina exclaimed once the guessing had begun. “I bet it’s Emma.”
“Right?” Val grinned. “I think this is their year!”
I’d laughed and nodded along while strangling my hairband under the table. It was the worst-kept secret on campus that Emma Brisbane been doodling Nick’s name in her notebook since freshman year. They always did partner projects together, and she’d even baked him cupcakes for his birthday last fall. She was exactly the type of girlfriend I knew Nick had always imagined. One who would hold his hand while walking to class, one who would fix his tie before the homecoming dance. The one I couldn’t be right now.
Someday, but not now.
* * *
My heart flipped when Nick finally twisted the lid off the jar. The moon had disappeared behind some clouds, so I switched on my iPhone flashlight for us to see. “Should we make a wager?” he asked once we’d chewed and swallowed our cherries, now left with stems.
“Yeah,” I said, smiling. “Loser has to eat the whole jar.”
“Deal.” Nick tugged my ponytail. “Ready?”
Five seconds later, I knew I wasn’t going to win. The stem kept sliding all over the place and nearly went down my throat. My hands were balled into fists, trying to concentrate. At the ten-second mark, I could tell Nick was frustrated too—openly whining. I almost choked with giggles, so I spit the stem out and flicked it at him. “Okay, stop. This is ridiculous.”
Nick threw back his head and laughed. I glanced around, worried that someone would hear us, but then relaxed and felt myself melt into a grin. I loved Nick’s laugh, so full yet boyish. “Maybe,” he said. “But how will we ever know now?”
“Easy,” I replied, already climbing onto his lap. “The old-fashioned way.” I felt his fingers running along my waist as I dramatically cupped his face with my hands. His jaw was strong, his cheeks warm. “I’ll kiss you, Nicholas.”
“Yeah, okay,” he whispered, so gently his voice rippled through me. “You can kiss me anytime you want, Morgan.”
* * *
“Is that new?” I asked later, as Nick tugged his crewneck back on. Nothing had happened beyond pulling off our shirts. “Oh, sorry, I’m sorry,” Nick had stammered when I’d stopped him from unclasping my bra. “No, no, it’s fine,” I’d whispered, my lips on his neck. “It’s just…”
Things were still so new. It had only been a month, and I was probably a little gun-shy from this last time I’d gone this far. Last year, Mrs. Collings had nearly caught Matt Gallant and me rolling around under The Meadow’s willow tree together. If we hadn’t heard her bloodhound’s warning bark, detention could’ve come calling.
“Uh-huh,” Nick said now. “Came in the mail yesterday.” His sweatshirt was navy with YALE embroidered across the chest in white letters.
“I like it,” I told him. “And I’m so happy for you.”
Nick kissed my forehead. “Thank you, but I haven’t really gotten in yet. Still a couple of months to wait.”
“But you will,” I said, leaning into h
is side. “You will.”
“So will you,” he replied. “Wherever you want to go.” He paused. “Have you made headway?”
My stomach swirled. My college counseling meetings still didn’t feel like successes because none of the schools on my list aligned with the twins’. My mom and I’d visited some cool places, but now I thought about Charlie and his Bowdoin visit, and Nick and Yale. “Reaches,” my counselor called both of them. I remembered brushing away tears in her office that day, realizing I would be alone next year. For the first time ever, the Carmichaels would not be at my side. I would have to start from scratch, and it was daunting. Making friends had never been difficult for me, but without the twins to lean on? That scared me.
“Yeah, I have plans,” I told Nick, then bit down hard on my lip to hold back the next part: Although they don’t yet involve you.
Maybe it was better to spend the next four years on my own. I had to live my own life, to figure out who I really was and what I really wanted for the future. And that wouldn’t happen if I was so deeply entwined with someone else. I knew that firsthand.
It couldn’t last. No matter how much I liked being entwined with Nick. We were still buddies, but now I loved how his arms felt around me and how we talked about the most random stuff. “There are two types of s’more makers,” he said later, giving me a piggyback ride back to main campus. “JV and varsity.”
“And how does one differentiate?” I asked.
“Simple,” he answered, all confidence. “A varsity s’more maker possesses patience, while the JV team is overeager.”
“Because you need to wait for the fire to burn down the coals.” I smiled to myself, remembering a summer bonfire when we were younger. “The best way to get that golden-brown shell and gooey inside is when there’s barely a flame.”
“Exactly, or else you’ll bungle the whole thing,” he said, then somehow shifted us so that I was now a koala clinging to his side. He flashed me a dimpled grin. “You’re varsity.”
“Thanks.” I grinned back. “You’re varsity too.”
Then we just smiled at each other before he leaned in to kiss me.
Chapter 10
Charlie
Nick and I went home for our birthday, October 2. It fell on a Saturday, so we caught a train after classes and would stay in Darien for the weekend. I packed for an overnight, but Nick packed like we were going home for winter break, showing up at the station with his rolling suitcase in tow. “I have a ton of laundry,” he said. “So why not?”
Mom was waiting at the end of the platform, a loose grip on Cassidy and Sundance’s leashes. Our black labs sat at her feet, but they started wagging their tails wildly when they spotted us. “Happy birthday!” Mom exclaimed, the signal for Nick and me to engage in one of our favorite bits: pushing and shoving each other in an attempt to be the first twin to hug Mom. This time, it was me. (Nick’s luggage didn’t do him any favors.)
“I think it might be time for a haircut, Nicky,” Mom said as I chauffeured us home in the Jeep. “A little too long.”
“Nah, not yet, Mom,” Nick responded. “Girls love it like this.”
There was a second of silence as I flipped on the blinker and made a left-hand turn, something knotting in me. Sage. I knew he was really talking about Sage. She was so confident with guys that they had hope they’d get their chance with her, that she was interested. My brother included. I gripped the steering wheel tighter, remembering Nick and Sage kissing this summer, during spin the bottle. “I’m sorry,” Nick had said to me afterward, looking anything but—he was Hercules when they gave him back his godliness. “I know you two…” He shook his head, drunk and dazed. “I mean, you know, you know?”
No, I’d thought. No, I don’t know. I’ve never had a kiss like that. I never will.
But I just clapped him on the shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, all good,” I said. “It was a one-time thing. I get it.”
Then I’d gone off to find the whiskey and Sage. I wasn’t going to let her string along my twin.
* * *
Two hours later, we were on another train. Tonight the Rangers were playing the Red Wings, and Mom and Dad had gotten center ice seats, with the Hardcastles joining us for dinner. Dad and Uncle Theo had been best friends since their own Bexley days.
“Happy birthday!” Aunt Whitney called out when we got to the restaurant, and I tried not to let my shoulders slump. Because I could never catch a break with Aunt Whit. Everything I did elicited some sort of comment from her.
“You certainly have a lot of tea, Charlie,” she’d told me at one of my parents’ dinner parties, when Nick and I were working on the dishes and she’d come in asking for a cup of Earl Grey.
“Well, yes,” I responded as I dug through our tea cabinet, pulse pounding. “Otherwise I’d probably have no voice, and what kind of world would that be?”
She was a master at subtext.
Tonight’s Q-and-A session began as soon as the drinks were served. “So, Nick,” Uncle Theo said, “how’s soccer shaping up?”
“Good,” Nick answered. “It’s definitely going to be a winning season; the only problem is that I’m pretty bored most of the time. We control most of the play, so I don’t get a lot of shots. Randall Washington knows what he’s doing up front.”
“See?” I said. “You didn’t even need me.”
Nick laughed. “Every year I try to get Charlie to join the team, and he always says no.”
“I would’ve loved to see that,” Dad agreed. “It’s a shame the play is in the fall.”
“I believe it’s a musical, not a play,” Aunt Whit said, sipping her wine. “There’s a difference. Musicals are song and dance.” She looked at me. “Right, Charlie? You’re singing and dancing?”
My chest tightened as I nodded.
“But Charlie has some monologues too,” Nick added. He would know, after all—I had two Into the Woods scripts so I could run lines with him before anyone else. He took it seriously, always giving insightful feedback. “It’s not all singing.”
Aunt Whit considered. “Yes, that’s true, Nicky,” she said. “Charlie, you’ve always been great at pretending, ever since you were little.” She turned to me and smiled like the Big Bad Wolf. “So now you’re pretending on a bigger stage, playing a part.”
Everything in me clenched.
Pretending, playing a part.
I glanced around the table to see if anyone noticed.
But thankfully they just laughed, and then Dad and Uncle Theo launched in on the latest quandary: where I should commit for hockey. The offers had come in over the past couple of months, and they’d been obsessed ever since. It was the same when Nick’s future was still up in the air. “I mean, why not Trinity?” Uncle Theo said now. “They’re at the top of the NESCAC, and…”
Nick kicked me under the table, getting me to make eye contact. You haven’t told them?
I shook my head. No.
He glared at me. Tell them, Charlie. Now.
“Yes, all true,” Dad agreed. “But there’s talk going around that their coach is in the running for the Colgate job. I don’t think—”
“Dad,” I interrupted. “Trinity’s out.”
He looked at me. “What?”
“Trinity’s out.” I fumbled for a bracelet under the table. “I called them last week, and said no.”
“Without talking to us first?”
“Jay…” Mom started.
I shrugged. “I talked to Coach Meyer.” (Who’d caught on: “Just let your dad down gently,” he advised the last time we spoke.)
“And me,” Nick said. “We made a pro/con list and everything.”
Dad’s expression stayed serious. “Have you turned down anyone else?”
I swallowed and nodded. “Bowdoin.”
“Well, okay.” He nodded back
. “Then I guess it’s Hamilton or Williams.”
* * *
We had cake when we got home, a little before midnight. The game had gone into overtime, and then a shoot-out, so we’d left after the Rangers nabbed the 4–3 win in the final round. Nick and I had the same cake every year: vanilla with chocolate icing. Mom always ordered two of them, so we could blow out our own candles (and have more leftovers).
“Make a wish!” Dad said once they were gleaming in front of us, just as Mom blinded us with her camera flash. I watched Nick squeeze his eyes shut and extinguish his cake in one go. I quickly did the same, wondering what his wish was.
Our numbers started dwindling around 12:15 a.m. Mom gave us all good-night hugs before going upstairs. Dad soon followed, and afterward Nick and I sprang into action. I went to the garage to get the beers, and he retrieved one of the cakes from the kitchen. We reconvened in the family room.
“So.” He handed me a fork. “Did we think it was a good birthday?”
I nodded and hacked off a hunk. “Yeah, great birthday.”
Nick popped open his Budweiser. “That didn’t sound very convincing.”
I rolled my eyes. “Well, sorry. It’s just that ‘Rumble in the Jungle’ was one hell of a party…”
Nick laughed mid-sip of beer, spraying it all over the half-eaten cake. I cracked up and then started coughing when my cake-beer combination went down the wrong pipe. “I’m glad we came home,” Nick said once I was stable. “I love being home.”
“Me too,” I responded. Because Aunt Whit aside, I did. It was looser here, the clench I always felt inside me. Only on the Vineyard did it ever really disappear, and it was the worst at Bexley. This was somewhere in the middle.
Nick switched on the TV and asked, “You also said no to Bowdoin?”
“Uh-huh,” I said. Before saying no to Trinity. I felt him looking at me, but I kept my eyes glued to the SVU rerun on-screen.
Nick released a deep breath. “You don’t want to play, do you?”
I shook my head.
He was quiet for a second, and then I glanced over to see him nod. “I wouldn’t keep dragging this out then,” he said. “It’s not fair to the coaches. They need to know you aren’t interested, so they can move on and make offers to other players.”
If We Were Us Page 9