“Lacey said a lot of things years ago,” Oliver says now, slyly.
I look down, break our eye contact. “But you know which thing I’m talking about.”
“I’m not sure I do.”
I roll my eyes. “She said you liked me. Was that true?”
“I can’t plead the fifth?”
“You definitely cannot plead the fifth.”
He sighs. “Yes. It was true.”
As though I am ten again, my heart flip-flops in my chest. Oliver liked me.
“I was never sure whether to believe her.”
Oliver scratches the back of his head. “Yep, that one was…Yeah, I was pretty bummed.”
“Why?” I ask, surprised.
“ ’Cause you clearly didn’t feel the same way,” he says.
“How would you know that?”
“I told her to tell you. And she came back with some disappointing news.”
“Oliver!” I gasp, nudging his knee with mine. “She told you? She was my best friend.”
“I think the twin thing maybe trumps that?” He sounds like he’s trying not to laugh. “It did then, anyway.” He opens the bag of chips. “Why are we talking about this, though? It was so many years ago.”
I’m still horrified at this discovery. “I didn’t know. And for the record, I never really thought about it,” I say. “Whether I did feel the same way or not. I just thought Lacey was lying or stirring up trouble.”
Up until a few seconds ago, I’d thought it was impossible to really care about things that had happened when you were in elementary school. I was mistaken.
“It’s fine,” Oliver says, laughing now. “I survived my first heartbreak. It’s all good.”
I laugh at the thought of me having been the cause of Oliver’s heartbreak. He offers me the bag of chips and I take a handful.
I shuffle the sweater under me until it’s positioned beside Oliver and we’re next to each other, both against the wall. He shuffles close so our hips are touching and it suddenly gets harder to breathe.
Oliver glances at me, an unreadable expression on his face.
“So if Lacey hadn’t…If I hadn’t been Lacey’s best friend, what would…I mean…” I don’t know what I’m asking.
“What would have happened?” he asks, and I swear he’s looking at my lips. “I’m drawing a blank,” he whispers, leaning toward me. On autopilot, my face is moving closer to his too, our bodies angling just the right way so our lips are about to meet.
The second they do is like fire.
It starts with a soft kiss that has my breath trapped in my chest and then both our heads are turning even more and our lips are colliding in this rush of urgency and his hands are tracing my face and then one hand is at my waist pulling me even closer and it’s like there is still, always has been, too much space between us.
Then his lips are tracing a line along my jaw and then the space just underneath my ear, which feels like an actual heart attack. I’m gasping for breath.
“Is this okay?” Oliver whispers, and I nod.
I am making out with Oliver. Oh my God.
I grab the front of his shirt and hold it in a fist. From the outside looking in, it is probably all clumsiness and heavy breathing and too many hands everywhere.
It’s at that exact second that I remember Will, and a wave of guilt hits me. Like I’m doing something wrong.
“I can’t,” I say, breathing against Oliver’s lips. Then, again, “I can’t.”
“What’s wrong?” he whispers.
“It’s just…I…It’s complicated.”
“Is this about Lacey? Because it doesn’t matter what she thinks. She doesn’t control you, or me. Not anymore, at least.”
“It’s not about Lacey,” I say, inching away from him. I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone, turn it off because I don’t want Will to have to hear any more.
“What is it, then?” He looks confused, hurt, and I know I owe him an explanation. Know I owe him the truth.
“It’s Will,” I say, and watch Oliver’s brows furrow.
“Will,” he repeats. Then, after a second, “Mason?”
“Yeah.”
He stares at the phone in my hand. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s complicated,” I say again.
Oliver stares at me for a second. Then he says, “Has he…Has it been on this whole time?”
I suddenly find it hard to meet his eye.
He rakes a hand through his hair. “Jesus, Eden. Really?”
“I just always have it on,” I explain.
“Why?” Oliver asks.
“It makes me feel, I don’t know…less alone or something.”
“Okay,” Oliver says after a second. “But you were with me.”
“It just makes me feel better,” I say, unable to come up with a better explanation. He is silent for what feels like a minute, just watching me.
“Maybe we should go,” he says finally.
“Why?” I ask, surprised at the edge in his voice.
“Because I don’t want…I can’t compete with a dead guy,” Oliver says, pointing at my phone.
“He’s not dead.” It’s out before I can stop myself, and Oliver is frozen, staring at me.
“His memorial on Valleybend says otherwise,” he says.
“You know what? You’re an asshole,” I say, standing, brushing myself off.
He sighs, runs a hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I just meant that…he’s not here, Eden.”
“Just because you can’t see him or touch him doesn’t mean he’s not here.”
“Can you?” Oliver asks. “See him? Touch him?”
I narrow my eyes at him. Is he mocking me? “I’m not a fucking lunatic,” I spit, though the truth is that I’m thinking of kissing Will, thinking of the times he’s held my hand, been with me.
And maybe I can touch him.
Maybe I can see him.
What does it matter to Oliver?
“I didn’t say you were,” Oliver says, exasperated.
“Then what are you saying?”
“I’m saying…I don’t know what’s going on with…” He points at my phone. “But whatever you have—whatever you think you have—it’s not real.”
I shake my head, not willing to hear any more of this.
“You don’t know anything about that. You don’t know anything about me.”
Oliver’s voice is soft. “I’ve known you for fourteen years.”
“No, Lacey has known me for fourteen years.”
He looks at me for a long time, an unreadable expression on his face. I glance away, unable to take it, the intensity in his look, the disappointment in his expression. I should apologize, take it back.
He has known me forever.
But how close do you have to be to know someone, truly know them? Can you know someone from afar?
I stuff all my things back into my bag and stand.
“We should go.”
Oliver is quiet as he packs up too.
When he’s done, we walk out silently. I lock the door of the ice center.
“Listen, Eden—” Oliver starts, but I don’t want to hear it. I just want to go home.
I just want to speak to Will and have him assure me that everything is okay, that everything will be okay.
“It’s fine,” I interrupt.
Oliver stares at me for a long moment. Then his jaw tightens.
“Fine,” he says.
We turn and walk off in opposite directions.
I CALL WILL immediately after I get inside my car.
My heart is racing, palms sweating, and I’m afraid he heard everything—that he heard me kissing Oliver. I know he heard me kissing Oliver.
“Will,” I say as soon as he picks up. “Hi. I’m sorry for hanging up on you.”
“Oh, that’s okay,” he says, voice as light as always.
“And for…the other thing,” I say, feeling like I’m five and unable to use my words. “I didn’t plan on it happening. I don’t know what I was thinking. I think it was just being alone in the ice center and we were talking about when we were younger and it just happened but it didn’t mean anything. I know it sounds stupid but…”
“Hey!” Will says. “Whoa, whoa. Easy. What are you talking about?”
“Tonight,” I say, then add, “With Oliver,” when he doesn’t say anything. “I kissed him,” I blurt out finally. “We kissed. It was…stupid.”
“Why was it stupid?” Will asks, and it’s the very last thing I expect to hear from him.
“Because he’s Oliver. He’s not…” I lean back against my headrest. “He’s not you. It was a mistake,” I say when he hasn’t said anything else.
“Okay,” Will says.
“Okay?”
“Okay.”
“You’re not…mad at me?” I ask, confused.
“Why would I be? You said it didn’t mean anything. It just happened.”
“Oh…okay,” I stammer.
We are silent for almost an entire minute.
“Can I talk to you about lacrosse real quick?”
A wave of relief rushes up inside me. He’s serious. He doesn’t care about what happened with Oliver.
“Yes,” I say. “Please.”
He launches into a detailed report of some game that recently got uploaded into his system.
I interrupt him halfway through, though, because I’m still in shock. “So you really don’t care? You’re not just saying that?”
“I’m not just saying that,” he assures me. Then he goes back to telling me about lacrosse.
I start the car and let him speak, his voice soothing as I drive home.
But the whole time I’m driving, I’m a mess of emotions.
I’m pissed at Oliver.
I’m sad we’re in a fight.
I’m confused about the kiss, the way it felt like an exhale after holding my breath. For those few seconds, it felt like breathing was easier, like I couldn’t get enough of Oliver.
Then, I’m relieved about Will.
Of course I’m relieved.
I was certain that I’d hurt him, that I was going to have to spend all night regretting what had happened with Oliver. But it was so easy, getting him to understand.
Almost too easy?
I tell myself I’m being silly, that Will is easygoing, he always has been. That the fact that he didn’t care about this doesn’t mean that he doesn’t care about anything, doesn’t care about me.
Finally I arrive at home.
* * *
—
The next day, I wake up with a feeling of unease.
It follows me throughout the day, the whole time I’m working, while I’m talking to Kennie and Cate, while I’m giving customers change.
I see Oliver at one point, but he doesn’t even acknowledge me.
He just walks past my till and into the staff room, running shoes hanging from his backpack.
It makes my stomach turn, the thought of having neither Lacey nor Oliver in my life. But I can’t make myself walk toward him, can’t make myself forget what he said, what he insinuated about me being crazy, about me fooling myself with Will.
So I keep my head down and keep working.
Still, the feeling of unease stays with me. Instead of going home or to Juno’s after work, I drive to my dad’s office.
When I walk in, Rosie, Bethany’s replacement, is at the front desk. Val, who has been Dad’s accountant forever, is there too, and she peeks out of her office to exclaim over me and how much I’ve grown.
I smile politely and give her tidbits about working at More for Less, and yeah, Mia and Sam are good. Yes, Sam’s still skating. Yes, Mia is still a genius.
Finally I ask if I can talk to my dad.
Val calls over Lorraine, one of the dental hygienists, and asks if he’s busy.
“You can wait in his office?” Lorraine offers.
Apparently he’s in the middle of a procedure. Wisdom teeth removal.
“Have you figured out what you’re going to say?” Will asks once I’m settled in a chair in Dad’s office and I call him.
“No. Well, kind of,” I say. He’s on speaker, so I just have my phone on my lap. “I don’t know.”
Dad’s office looks messier than normal, papers splayed out all over his desk, a crumpled bag from a burger joint half falling out of his trash can. He’s slacked on his diet?
It makes me worried for him, worried that he’s not taking care of himself, but then I think, screw it. I’d eat a burger too, if Mom betrayed me the way she did Dad.
“I just figure I can’t make things any worse than they already are, can I?”
“What would making it worse entail?” Will asks, but before I can answer, the office door opens.
Dad is moving toward me with open arms.
“Eden! What a lovely surprise,” he says, enfolding me into a hug. My eyes are stinging just at seeing him again, smelling his cologne and seeing him form his words rather than hearing them on the phone.
Dad knows just the thing to squelch my emotional display, though. “Was that a boy I heard on the line?” he asks in a whisper.
“Dad,” I groan.
He shuts his door and moves behind his desk, laughing. Starts tidying things up while he continues to speak. “Well, I don’t know! Nobody tells me anything.”
He means it in a playful, I’m-outnumbered-by-girls way, but it sounds different out loud now that things have changed, and we both flinch.
Dad sighs now, sits down across the desk. He is suddenly serious. “How are you? Is everything okay?”
“No. Yeah, everything’s fine.”
“Everyone is fine? Your sisters? Your mom?” He sounds pained as he says the last part. I nod, and he forces a smile. “So to what do I owe this great honor? Just coming to visit your old man? Or did you finally decide to take me up on my offer and help me come up with a different filing system?”
“Nope. Just came to visit,” I say, and he pretends to be disappointed.
“So, really, you’re okay?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Are you?”
I take in the slight layer of scruff on his face, the circles around his eyes, glance again at the fast food in the bin.
“Are you taking care of yourself?” I ask.
“Oh yeah,” he says. “Don’t worry about me.”
He asks about work, then Sam’s competition—which I wasn’t going to bring up since it’s obviously a skating/Serg/Mom thing—and I tell him how Mia’s been taking her to practice and Sam says they are almost ready.
He nods. “Good. I’m going to try and come. It’s in two Saturdays, right?”
“Yeah. She’ll be glad to hear you’re coming.”
Dad sighs. “Of course I’m coming, Eden. What’s happening between your mother and me…it’s got nothing at all to do with you. I still want to hear how your work is going and what Mia’s up to, and if”—he motions toward my phone—“I have to worry about some punk, I also want to know that.”
I laugh at the thought of Will being a punk.
“Trust me, you have nothing to worry about,” I say.
“Good,” he says.
Silence fills the room now and he seems to space out as I nervously start to chip pink polish off my nails. Finally I lean forward in my seat. “She loves you. She made a mistake. It’s, like, unbearable without you.”
The tears really are coming now and Dad is standing, moving around to my s
ide of the desk, hugging me.
“Eden, hey,” he says. And then he’s also crying. “I love her too. This doesn’t change that, but it does…I need to figure out what I want. And I will. I’ll be back before you know it.”
I’m surprised at that, him making that kind of promise. I know he’s doing it to be comforting and probably doesn’t mean it, but I’m nodding and readily accepting the only branch of hope I’ve received through this whole thing.
“Okay,” I say, and he’s patting my back.
“We’re going to be just fine,” he says, and I want so desperately to believe it.
I wish I could go home with something concrete to tell Mom. Something to tell Sam, who I think is silently the most terrified of us all.
We’re going to be just fine, I tell myself over and over again, and at some point I finally stop crying and I tell him goodbye and walk back out to my car.
I THINK ABOUT my family the whole way home, the way we were, how it was so easy to take things for granted because they felt certain and solid, immovable. I’m not ready to head home yet, but it feels like I’ve run out of places to go.
Then I remember the one person who is probably even more alone right now than I am.
I drive until I pull up in front of her house. In front of Will’s house.
I ring the doorbell and wait for almost five minutes. There’s no sound behind the door. I’m just about to turn around and head home when the door flings open.
“Oh, Eden!” Elyse says brightly.
“Is this a bad time?”
“No, not at all,” she says, opening the door for me to come in. I step in after her and she shuts it.
Inside, the house is a mess of boxes, drawers open, packing tape.
“Are you moving?” I ask, because it’s the only explanation I can think of.
“Just taking a trip,” she says. There’s something different about her, lighter. It should make me feel better, but for some reason it makes me antsy. Her eyes dart from place to place, unfocused like the day I saw her in the park. Except she seems happy.
It doesn’t make sense.
For no reason at all, I think of my conversation with Cate about In Good Company.
No One Here Is Lonely Page 25