Yet Andrew was the boy I liked. The one who was right for me.
“Lunch was great though,” I said. “I think it’s one of the best dates I’ve ever had.” And the only one.
A hesitant smile lit up his face. “I had a great time, Harper.”
“It was incredibly sweet.”
“So, uh, you and that Ridley guy . . .”
“We’re just friends. I—”
“Tutor him, yeah, I know. But—” Andrew scratched his neck, pausing on a thought. “You two seem to be pretty close.”
I opened my mouth to deny it, but Andrew was right. Ridley and I had become friends, confidants. I’d shared things with him even Molly didn’t know. And I knew few, if any other girls, had been to his house. Yet he had let me in. We’d invited each other into the dark and secret places of our lives.
Just enough to create a strange brew of a friendship.
And a maelstrom of confusion in my mind.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather invite him to the dance?”
“What? No!” Did Andrew not want to go anymore? “You’re the one I want to go with. Unless you’d rather take someone else?”
“I was just checking.” Andrew gave a small laugh. “I’m not good at this dating stuff. I’ve only dated a few girls, so I’m still learning.”
Oh, wasn’t that absolutely charming? Lack of experience—I would later add this to my document titled: “Things Totally Adorbs About Andrew Levin.”
“I thought I could pick you up early before the dance,” Andrew said. “We could get something to eat.”
“That would be awesome,” I said. “I’m a big fan of food.” My repartee was still a perfect example of a natural disaster, along with spewing volcanoes and cataclysmic floods.
Andrew placed his music folder on his stand. “You wanna hang out today after school? Maybe listen to my band practice?”
“I’d love to. I would. But I have tutoring.”
“With Ridley.”
Was Andrew jealous? “Yes.”
“No big deal.” But Andrew’s jaunty shrug said otherwise.
“Andrew.” The thought of this boy walking away from what we were starting . . . I was not going to let that happen. We were too close to becoming a real couple. “Tutoring is a job. That’s all it is.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” That was all it ever could be. Nothing more.
* * *
When I got home, there was a For Sale sign stuck in my yard.
After a quick trip to the Walnut Street Animal Rescue and Mrs. Henrietta Tucker’s after school, I pulled into our driveway just as a Maple Grove Realty car drove away.
“Mom?” I slammed the front door behind me, jumped over one of my two foster dogs, and sailed through the foyer, coming to a jaunty halt.
“Hello, Harper.” Dad stood in the doorway between the foyer and living room. He wore jeans and an Eagles sweatshirt, looking painfully normal. Even though not one single thing was.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m moving back in.”
Somewhere in the house a door shut. The roof creaked. A dog snored.
And I tried to think of something to say.
“Are you okay with that?” Dad watched me closely, like there was only one correct answer.
“I don’t know.”
And that wasn’t it.
“Harper, I’m your father. You can’t just write me off after one mistake.”
“It was more than a mistake. It was an atom bomb to our family.” And to my illusion that I was finally safe and secure.
“I know I broke your trust,” Dad said. “But that means you’re done with me?”
“No,” I whispered. Why was this so confusing? Mom and Dad didn’t understand anything I did right now, and my thoughts hadn’t unraveled enough to explain it.
“Give me a second chance.”
“I’m afraid to.”
“John, I—” Mom walked out of the living room, stopping when she saw us. “Harper.”
Yeah, Harper. Your daughter. The one you’ve forgotten to mention a few updates to. “Just saw the For Sale sign.”
“We decided last night. Your dad and I were going to talk to you about it, but Michael said you’d gone to bed.”
I owed my brother. “So we’re moving? As a family?”
Mom glanced at Dad. “Your father is here to help us get the house ready to sell. We can’t stay in Maple Grove. You know that.”
“He’s moved back in to help us box up some clothes?”
Mom hesitated, as if she wasn’t too sure herself. “We want to do what’s best for everyone. Right now it makes financial sense for your father and me to not live in two separate homes. And we thought it would be nice to be together as a family for the holidays. So your dad’s moving into the room over the garage.”
This seemed sudden. And weird.
“Cole’s grades are slipping. He’s been getting in some trouble. You’re struggling,” Dad said.
Now I was confused and offended. “I’m not struggling.”
“You skipped school. Skipped your counseling appointment. You cleaned the baseboards and baked a hundred cookies this morning,” Mom said.
“So I deal with things through carbs, cleaning, and avoiding intrusive conversation. Pretty sure that doesn’t mean I’m falling apart.”
“I love your mom, Harper. And I miss you kids.” Dad had that injured look on his face, like that time in sixth grade I failed to invite him to my first daddy-daughter dance. “And this family belongs together. I would think you of all people would agree.”
If Dad was moving into the suite over the garage, was this a reconciliation? And what if it didn’t work? What if I let myself believe we were this untouchable family once again, only to have it ripped away? “Where are we moving?”
“I’ve already got a few job offers.” Dad reached down to pet the dog that had plopped down at his feet. “It’s for next season, but one’ a very definite possibility.”
“Where?”
“I can’t say yet.”
“Make an exception.”
Confidentiality was the way of the athletic world when it came to contracts and deal terms. We all knew that. If I stitched our family motto onto a pillow, it would read Keep Your Mouth Shut. So I was surprised when my dad inhaled deep then had the nerve to smile. “Mississippi Tech. It’s going to take a few weeks to finalize.”
I didn’t want to move. My life was in Maple Grove. “My friends are here. I’m finally first chair.”
“I know you’ve worked hard for that, but moving is part of my job and—”
“Not this time,” I said. “This isn’t some career advancement. We’re moving because you—”
“Harper.” My mom stood in front of my dad, like a warrior queen ready to take a dagger for her king. “Let’s sit down and discuss this . . . calmly.”
“I don’t want to.” The house for sale made this all too real. Change always tipped my canoe, but this was more. This was speedboating toward Niagara Falls.
“We have a family counseling session tomorrow night,” Mom said.
I walked toward the stairs. “I won’t be there.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Harper, your date is here.”
Dad stepped inside my room just as I snapped a selfie to send to Molly.
“Wow, babe.” He smiled as he took in the curls Mom had created with a flatiron and the ivory lace dress that stopped well above my knees, revealing legs that could possibly go down as my best feature. A thin black belt circled my waist.
“You look beautiful.” Dad braved a kiss to my cheek, and for a moment, I breathed in his familiar scent and remembered how normal things were only a month ago. How solid my world had been. I wanted to go back, to rewind it all and be that family again.
“Thank you.” I reached for the little clutch that matched my shoes.
“It’s such a pretty dress. Are you sure you wa
nt to wear that cardigan over it?”
“Yes.” The dress had vintage-inspired three-quarter-length sleeves, but there was no way I was putting even a hint of my arms on display. “It’s chilly out.”
“Have a great time.”
“I will.”
Dad had been back in the house three nights and three days, and it was . . . weird. I wanted to hope that my parents would stay together, but they were bunking in separate spaces and were so painfully polite to one another, they were more like new roommates than husband and wife. I feared the worst, that divorce was inevitable, and they were merely buying time.
I walked downstairs, where Michael intercepted me. “Have fun at your nerd party. You look nice and stuff.”
I smiled. “Thanks. And stuff.”
Andrew stood in the living room, talking to Mom and Cole. He turned as I came into the room, his face brightening like the lights on the Wildcat football field as he smiled. Now that was how a girl dreamed of a boy looking at her.
“Whoa.” Andrew walked to me and pressed a quick peck to my cheek. “The other guys are gonna be so jealous of me.”
My face warmed. “Probably not after they see me dance.”
“Any guy would kill to have you as his date tonight.”
“You’re very good at the flattery.”
“I only speak the truth.”
I didn’t believe him for a second, but I repeated the words in my head three times, committing them to memory so I could record them later.
“Are you ready? Our chariot awaits.” Andrew gave me his arm. “And by chariot, I mean my dad’s Toyota.”
I glanced up at his face, hopeful he had just made a joke. But no. The expression staring back at me was that of Literal Andrew.
“You guys have fun,” Mom said.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Michael added.
I pulled Andrew toward the door. “That’s a very short list.”
I couldn’t help but notice that Andrew didn’t open my car door like Ridley. He didn’t drive with one hand on the wheel and the other a mere centimeter from mine. Nor did he occasionally look away from the road to stare at me broodily.
Stop thinking about Ridley!
You’re with Andrew. He’s kind, he’s smart, he’s cute. He’s perfect for you.
Andrew took me to an Italian restaurant on one of the side streets off the square. We sat in a corner booth as Dean Martin tunes played softly. A candle lit our table, making Andrew’s eyes movie-star beautiful and easy to look into. We both got lasagna—Andrew’s was traditional, while I ordered one made with eggplant. I worried the accompanying salad would guarantee green things in my teeth, or that the bread would make me bloat like a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade balloon, but the talking went down much easier with a little calorie consumption. Plus the bread came with this melted butter that made me want to stand up and give glory to God Almighty. I mentally referred to Ridley’s rules throughout the meal. Compliment Andrew. Ask him about himself. By the time dessert came, I had graduated from awkward conversationalist to at least mediocre. I learned he’d been a Boy Scout, helped on his grandma’s farm every summer, and gone on three mission trips to dig wells for orphans. He was pretty much the boyfriend jackpot.
But someone needed to give Andrew some conversational lessons.
“And then I grabbed my rifle and took out that deer right from the window of our hunting cabin. Can you believe that?”
My throat closed around a bite of cheesecake. “I can hardly stand it.”
“I know, right? So cool. It was at least a twelve point.”
Taking a few sips of water, I tried again to steer him back to a topic that didn’t make me want to cry into my napkin. “You know what I love?”
He smiled as he sliced his fork into his warm brownie à la mode. “Tell me.”
“I love movies. Every Sunday night my family has a B-movie night.” Not that we’d done it lately. “We watch really terrible, cheesy ones with horrible special effects, low budgets, bad dialogue.”
“Interesting.” Andrew chewed his brownie for a lengthy period of time, and I realized that was all he was going to say about that.
“So . . .” Ridley had told me this was a good topic, and so far he was wrong. “Have you seen any movies lately?”
“No.” Andrew scraped some hot fudge sauce from his bowl. “I mostly watch Japanese TV shows online.”
“Oh, like anime?” I could totally talk about this.
“No, more like reality shows. Really funny stuff.”
Funny stuff? What about my funny stuff? I’d thrown out my best jokes tonight. I’d told Andrew the story of Molly accidentally losing her bra onstage in her last play, the tale of my youngest brother barfing on Santa Claus, even mentioning the time Mavis and I had each stuffed three puppies down our shirts to sneak them by a confirmed dogfighter.
What did that get me? A few courtesy laughs. But Japanese reality shows flicked his funny bone?
By the time the waiter brought the check, I was all out of questions. I’d gone through my entire repertoire. I needed to ask Ridley what to do when Andrew answered my questions, but didn’t ask me any back. How was I supposed to keep the flow of conversation going? Maybe we were both having an off night. Maybe I was just so upset over the idea of moving that I was being hypercritical. That had to be it. Probably nothing would please me tonight. Or this decade. Though it wouldn’t have hurt for Andrew to offer a bite of that brownie thing. Just for comparison purposes.
Andrew reached for my hand as we walked back to his Camry. His skin felt cold on mine, his palm a little clammy. Andrew had me listen to his favorite tracks from his band on the way to the school cafeteria. I couldn’t make out most of the words, but his band seemed to have a lot of enthusiasm.
He parked the car, cut the engine, and turned to me. “I like hanging out with you.”
Was something going to happen here? “I feel the same.”
But he just opened the door and hopped out, meeting me on the sidewalk and walking me to the door.
I wished I could ask Andrew what his expectations were. For me, for us. For this night. Was this a kissing night? I assumed it probably was. Would I be able to recall all I’d learned? What if I screwed that up? What if I had only been decent at it because Ridley had been such the aficionado?
The unknowns ran like a dripping faucet in my head, and I couldn’t turn it off.
“Harper!” Molly flung her arms around me as soon as we entered the disco ball–lit cafeteria. “Come dance with me!”
The room vibrated with a rock song, and already a large group of bandies gathered on the floor, thrashing and moving to the words, the beat, or whatever else propelled their limbs.
“They’re all terrible dancers,” I said. “I’ve been worried for weeks about this, and look at them.” I laughed as I watched my friends and classmates do their thing. “Most of them are absolutely awful.”
“It’s our curse.” Molly tossed back a cup of red punch. “Most of the WHS band members are completely incapable of looking even remotely cool on the floor.” She flung an arm around Andrew and me. “But that’s the fun of it! Come on!”
So I did.
I set my clutch and inhibitions on a table, then joined a mob surrounding my best friend and just flung and flailed like the rest of the crowd. It was exhilarating. It was liberating. Andrew and I laughed at the others. We laughed at ourselves. He did have a sense of humor! There were a few students who looked like they knew what they were doing, but they were the minority. Bad dancers ruled the night.
Andrew was in a class of his own. He moved like Justin Timberlake. It was something of beauty, something to be envied. He tried to show me a few moves, but it was hopeless. Yet instead of hyperventilating over my lack, I just laughed. And threw my hands over my head and continued my rhythmic fit.
“This one’s for all you couples out there,” said the DJ, changing the music to a slow song and nearly clearing the floor.
“Guys, grab your ladies.”
Andrew extended his hand. “Can I have this dance?”
As the music floated around us, he pulled me in tight, his arms holding me close. My hands played at his neck, and I thought of how different he felt than the boy I’d danced with last.
“Harper?”
I lifted my head.
And saw hazy purpose in those eyes.
I might not know jack about the mechanics of kissing, but I knew that look.
“Yes?” I smiled up at my date, my heart tripping wildly.
“I really like you.”
“I’m glad,” I said. “Because I like you.”
His head lowered even more. “I think we should date. Be a couple. Exclusive.”
I had waited a lifetime for those words—or at least since the moment I saw Andrew Levin step his foot onto campus. I had just known he would be right for me. And now here we were, wrapped in each other’s arms, bodies swaying to one really bad love song, his lips inches from mine.
“Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”
“That depends on what your answer is.”
I recreated one of Molly’s flirty smiles. “And if the answer is no?”
“Then I’m going to go drink myself into a stupor on watery punch, grab one of those cheese trays, and cry all the way home.”
I laughed. “And if my answer’s yes?”
“Then I’d probably still steal a cheese tray.” His face sobered. “I’m kidding. You get that, right? I wouldn’t really steal a cheese tray. I’m not a thief and—”
“Andrew.” I patted his shoulder. “I know.”
His grin widened as his nose brushed against mine. “And then I’d kiss you.”
Oh, gosh. Here it was. Be brave, Harper. You can do this. “Andrew?”
He tilted his head, raised a brow.
“My answer is yes.”
“The punch bowl is safe.” His smiling lips lowered to mine, and all dancing stopped. Andrew’s mouth took possession and I sighed and slid my hands into his hair. His kiss was sweet and slow. It didn’t have the fire and skill of Ridley’s, but somehow that was a relief. I didn’t lose all thought as Andrew kissed me, didn’t forget where I was. Nope, I could pretty much do long division in my head with this lip-lock.
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