I stopped short, tossing him an incredulous look. "To my house?"
He smiled crookedly. "To your window."
"No," I said, laughing in spite of myself. "That's not happening."
"You used to like it.” He grinned rather saucily, encouraged.
"I used to love it," I said, shaking my head. "But I'll be around, Skyler. Text me or something."
He didn't say anything, and I tried not to act like I was waiting for him to as I walked away.
Guilt tossed me in and out of sleep, weighing me down with the decision I knew I needed to make. I rose early, hardly having rested. I couldn't leave Tristan, and I couldn't stay with him. The in-between was killing me, and I couldn't keep on living this way. Having feelings for someone else only made things worse.
I was tired of whining and venting to my friends, and even my mother, who I'd brought up to speed. She was pretty bummed out, not because she adored Tristan (and she did adore Tristan), but because I'd kept it to myself for so long.
“Helping you navigate this kind of stuff is my job,” she said. “You can always come to me. Always.”
I knew that. There were just some things I wanted to handle myself.
“You want to know what I think?” she asked.
“Oddly enough, I do,” I said, smiling.
“You're young, honey. You're not married to Tristan. If you need to have a talk with him before he leaves the country, you owe it to the both of you to do so.”
In the end, I knew there was a huge chasm between staying with someone out of love and staying with them out of habit. I couldn't be that person anymore, no matter much I cared for Tristan.
With temperatures sizzling into the 90s by noon, the air was so hot it shimmered above the asphalt. I was wearing shorts and flip flops, in autumn. Locking my car, I hurried into the air-conditioned respite of the Imaginarium.
I usually didn't work on Fridays, but when my coworker, Brooke, asked if I could switch with her—offering me a rare Saturday off—I jumped at the chance. We were on a rotating schedule so that no one got stuck working every weekend, but it still sucked to be inside when your friends were at the beach.
A couple of hours in to my shift, my phone rang. It wasn't too cool to get calls at work, but it was Tristan, so I ducked outside. We'd been playing phone tag the night before, and I needed to talk to him. "Hey," I said, squinting in the too-bright light.
"Hey, you," he said. "What's up?"
"Not much. I'm at work."
"Oh. Shit. Sorry, babe, I wouldn't have called—"
"No, it's okay. I don't usually work today, but I switched with someone so I could have tomorrow off."
He stayed silent, and I shifted uncomfortably. The sun beating down on me was nearly unbearable, and I wanted to go back inside. "What's up?"
"So, I know I was supposed to come up tomorrow..."
Ugh, this was a conversation I knew all too well. Irritation singed through me, exasperated by the heat.
"...but I realized I'd just have to come back early, because—"
"I'll just come down," I interrupted, immediately regretting it. I didn't want to commit to anything, but a trio of customers walked in to the store, making me anxious to end the call. "Okay? I'll call you later."
"Oh. Okay...I'm sorry, Rory. I'm just swamped right now. Maybe you could stay over? Until Sunday?"
"Maybe," I said, looking through the glass to make sure no one had approached the counter inside. "I need to see you, anyway."
"Me too," he said. "Miss you."
"Me too," I said. My stomach hurt. "I'd better go. I'll call you when I leave tomorrow, okay?"
"Yeah, okay. Love you."
"Me too," I said again. I did love him. I just wasn't in love anymore. He probably wasn't that in love with me anymore, either. I told myself this over and over, trying to ease the anxiety swirling in my stomach.
My manager, Shonda, was at the counter, squinting at the computer screen. She was chewing viciously on her pen, something she did when she wanted a cigarette. “Rory, did you do a special order yesterday? For Knit Your Typical Yarn?"
"Can't say that I did," I said. "Brooke, maybe. She was up front more than I was."
"Well, the customer called today and said she found it online. Cheaper." Shonda rolled her eyes. "Obviously, you know? Even I'd go online first."
I chuckled, joining her behind the counter.
"Anyway, I need to cancel the order," she said, finally looking at me. "You okay?"
"Yep." I took a drink of water from the bottle I kept behind the counter. "It's just really hot outside."
"Ugh, I know," Shonda said, still clicking around on the computer. "How's Tristan?"
My chest tightened momentarily. "Okay. I'm going to drive down tomorrow to see him."
"That's sweet," she said, patting my arm absently as she walked away. "Have fun."
I tugged at my tank top, which was wilted and wrinkled thanks to the humidity. When I looked up, Skyler was standing on the other side of the counter. He must have just come from work, because he had on an old t-shirt and a baseball cap. His cheeks were pink from the sun.
"Whose birthday is it this time?" I teased, tilting my head.
He smiled, leaning on the counter. "Didn't you just have one?"
"Like, two months ago. Nice try, though."
"When do you get off work?" he asked.
"Eleven.” I plucked up several stray paperclips, putting them into a jar. "I'm closing tonight."
"Wow. Late."
"I know," I said. "I'm covering for someone; I don't usually work Fridays, not this shift."
Skyler took off his hat, running a hand over his head. "Do you need a ride home?"
I ducked my head, hiding my smile at the unexpected offer. "I drove. Thanks, though."
"The blue Explorer, huh?”
"Got it for my sixteenth birthday," I said, glancing out at the parking lot.
"But you don't always drive."
"No point." I shrugged. "I'm usually with Niki or Teigan, so it's easier to just ride together."
"Makes sense."
There were flyers for an upcoming book signing on the counter, and he pulled one toward him, reading it. I studied him for a minute. His eyelashes were so long. I remembered them tickling my cheek, sometimes, when he kissed me.
He looked up suddenly. I expected him to smirk or make some smug remark, but he didn't.
"You're getting your color back," I practically whispered.
He nodded, touching a hand to his cheek. "Got a little burned today."
"You should put something on it," I said, but I thought it was cute.
"What are you doing tomorrow?"
My stomach flipped but with guilt. I looked down at the counter. "Driving down south, to see Tristan."
“That's cool. What're you doing tonight?”
“Skyler, come on.”
"Let's hang out."
"Where've you been all week?" I asked abruptly. He hadn't been around.
"Working; why?" he asked, and I thought I heard amusement in his voice.
I shrugged, watching as he rested his elbows on the counter.
"I don't go out that much, you know," he said.
"Why not?"
"Construction's tiring. Most of the time I just want to eat, take a shower, and go to bed."
"Exciting.” It had been like that a long time ago, when he'd first moved in with his Uncle Aiden. "Are you staying at home still?"
"Remember the garage apartment?"
I nodded.
"I'm staying there for now. No point in looking for someplace else when I'm going to college next year."
The thought of him leaving again made my heart feel heavy. I liked having him in my life. In any capacity. "Where will you go?"
"For college?"
"Yeah."
He ran his fingers through his hair and put the hat back on. "I don't know; where are you going?"
I pretended his question didn'
t make me all stupid inside. "Probably USF or something. I like Tampa."
"What'll you study?"
"I'm undecided." I looked up at him. "You still want to study law?"
Skyler smiled. "I can't believe you remember that."
"I remember a lot of things,” I said quietly, and my face grew warm.
His smile faded. "I'm still gonna study law, but I can take whatever I want for my bachelor's. Political science or whatever."
An older woman got in line behind him, rifling impatiently through her purse. Skyler ambled off, hands in his pockets, and I looked away, trying to ignore how good he looked in dirty Dickies.
"I got this coupon in my email," my customer was saying, waving a small piece of paper.
"Oh, no problem," I said, holding my hand out for the coupon.
Ten minutes later, I was still dealing with her. Skyler finally waved from behind her, trying to get my attention. "I'll see you later," he mouthed.
Later on, Shonda and I slipped out the front doors, locking them before the alarm went off. She tapped me, nodding toward the parking lot. "Your boyfriend's back.”
I looked up, expecting to see Tristan—which made no sense, as he was supposed to be in Miami—but it was Skyler walking toward us.
"That's not—"
"I know.” She smiled slyly. "Sure looked like it earlier, though."
I cringed, knowing she'd been watching Skyler and me talk at the counter.
"You okay here? Want me to wait?" she asked.
"No, I'm fine. Thanks, Shonda."
“Anytime, sweetie.” She walked briskly away, heels clacking against the pavement.
"Hey! What are you doing here?" I asked Skyler, balancing my bag in one hand and a cup of iced tea in the other.
"I didn't want you walking to your car this late at night."
I bit my lip, touched that he'd come back like that. "You didn't have to do that, but thanks. I appreciate it."
He fell in step with me. "Heading home now?"
"I am."
"Come out for a while; there's supposed to be a meteor shower tonight."
"Really?" I paused at my door so I could fish my keys from my purse.
"No."
I opened the door and tossed my stuff inside, chuckling. "I need to go home, take a shower, all that. I'm gross right now."
"I can wait."
His persistence floored me. He'd never, never been this devoted in the past. "What is it, Skyler?"
He folded his arms. "What's what?"
"Why are you so intent on hanging out? You know I have a boyfriend,” I said, keeping my tone playful. “And I doubt you have a hard time finding girls to go out with.”
"I don't," he said.
Ugh. "So you do hook up, then."
He gazed at me, shaking his head. "Am I supposed to sit at home and wait for you?"
"Of course not," I said, flustered. "I mean, you said earlier you don't go out much."
"I don't. But I go out sometimes."
I wanted to know what “going out” entailed, but seeing as that was none of my business, I kept my mouth shut.
He took a step closer. "I'd rather go out with you, though."
My heart sort of fell out. I dropped down the driver's seat, feeling prickly and hot. "What if I don't want to go out with you?"
He braced his arm against the frame of my car, closing in. "Don't you?"
"You know I can't right now.”
"Right now," he echoed.
"I gotta go," I said, twisting around so I faced front.
“You sure you can't come out for just a little while?”
I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel, deliberating. If I was being honest, I did want to spend time with him, hanging out as friends. "Fine. But just for a while. It's late.”
“What are you, eighty?”
“Shut up, Skyler,” I said, starting the car.
"I'll pick you up.” He closed the door before I could protest.
I questioned myself all the way home. What was I doing? This felt so illicit, somehow. It was late; my parents would definitely wonder why I was leaving the house at near-midnight. Teig might approve, because she liked adventures, but Niki'd be scandalized.
Worst of all was Tristan. Did it count as sneaking around behind his back if I kept it platonic?
I sped home, hoping my parents were in bed. Mom probably would be; Dad liked falling asleep to the TV in the living room sometimes. Sure enough, he was on the couch when I let myself in, snoring.
Locking the front door, I went to my parent's bedroom. "Mom?"
She looked up from her pillow, yawning.
"I'm home, okay? Gonna shower and go to bed."
"There's meatloaf, okay?"
"Okay. Go back to sleep. Love you."
"Love you, too.”
I closed her door and went to my room, feeling like I was regressing back a couple of years. What was it about Skyler that guaranteed shenanigans?
After a quick shower, I pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I didn't have Skyler's number, but mine hadn't changed in years, and apparently he still had it.
You coming out the window?
Yeah.
Saving his number to my phone, I shut my door and locked it...though I couldn't remember the last time my parents had checked on me.
Skyler was at the end of the street, where he'd always been. "Just like old times," he teased when I got in. "Would your parents really keep you in, still?"
"No." I shook my head. "But they'd have a bunch of questions, and I don't feel like dealing with that right now."
He nodded, rolling down the windows and letting in the breeze.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"We could go back to my place," he offered, scrolling through his music as we idled at a stop sign.
That sounded a little too cozy. "Maybe we could just drive?" I asked, clasping my hands on my lap.
He settled on a song and started driving again. "How about a diner?"
I was hungry, actually. "That sounds good."
We drove to the Denny's on US 1. The parking lot was only half-full, but it always got busier as the night wore on. The hostess inside seated us at a booth in the corner. I glanced through the menu, even though I had a good idea of what I wanted. Mostly, I just peeked at Skyler. He was looking at his menu, too, but every once in a while, he'd look up at me.
After a minute, he smiled, putting down the menu.
"What?"
“Nothing.” He shook his head. "You're funny."
After we'd ordered everything at once, wanting it all to come out at the same time, I leaned forward. "So, what was military school like?"
“Don't ease in slow or anything,” he ribbed, flicking a pack of sugar at me.
“Well, I've been wondering,” I said. By the time Skyler started school, we'd stopped communicating, and there was much I didn't know. “Seems like now's a good a time as any.”
"It was okay, I guess. After I got used to it."
"Were you far from the city?”
"Not really, but getting a ride in could be tricky.” He paused, looking down at the table. "I didn't have a car, and I didn't know anybody. I hated it. The classes were intense, it was cold all the time, and my teachers were dicks."
"Was it pretty, at least? The campus?” I asked. “I bet autumn was nice up there."
"It was,” he conceded. “And yeah, the buildings were pretty, real old and traditional.”
“Got any pictures?”
“A few.”
We shared another smile. “So...did your mom and dad visit a lot?” I asked, remembering how bad things had been between them.
“I didn't even want to talk to them at first. But then they came up with Phoebe and Rocco for Thanksgiving and I just... I missed them. It was too hard being separated from everything."
"Did you ask them if you could come back?"
"Of course I did," he said. "But they shot me down.”
&nb
sp; Our server returned with our sodas, promising the food would be right out.
"Man, I remember those days," I said softly, looking out at the parking lot. “I missed you a lot.”
"Yeah, I missed you, too.”
"You just missed being around girls." I laughed.
"There were girls," he said, smiling.
"Oh!" Suddenly things looked a lot different in my imagination. I thought of the pretty girl on Instagram. "Did you still run track?" I asked, knowing damn well he had.
"Yeah. Really got into cross country too. The trails around campus were amazing. I ran for miles every day."
"That's great," I said, sipping my Coke. "And intense. It's a good thing you weren't smoking."
"I was smoking.”
“But how?” I frowned. "I thought it was all strict?"
"It was, but honestly, it was easier to get weed there than it is here. Kind buds, too, hydro from the city.”
"And here I was feeling bad for you," I said dryly. "So what made you stop?"
He shrugged. "Got over it, I guess. More trouble than it's worth."
"Did you...date?" I asked.
"I mean...yeah.” Our eyes met. “I had a life, Rory. I made friends, some of whom I still talk to.”
I nodded. That made sense.
"Why?" he asked, after a minute.
“I'm just curious.” I chewed my straw, wishing the food would hurry up. "Is that kinda why we stopped talking? You said it was easier..."
"I just didn't think it was fair, or realistic, for us to be all tied to each other when I couldn't even come see you. What did you want me to do?"
"I don't know," I admitted. "But it hurt. Even though I thought I understood."
"It hurt me, too."
"You were always so sure of everything," I said.
“I wasn't.”
“Maybe not, but it felt like it. I was in deep and you...you were so good at just skimming the surface."
"Do you feel like that's what I did with you?"
"I know that's what you did."
"I'm sorry," he said, grabbing my hand. I tried to pull away, not because I was angry, but because him touching me like that hit on feelings too close to home. "I didn't mean to make you feel like that."
"That's the thing; I didn't even mind at the time. I was so caught up in you,” I said. “When you left, I thought I was going to fall apart. I guess I wanted you to feel the same way.”
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