I smack his shoulder, but I’m laughing and wiping tears away with my other hand. “Then why aren’t we camping?”
“Because,” he says, “we’re going to the dinner.”
“The dinner?” I say, but really I’m thinking, He loves me! He loves me, too!
He holds up his arms. “You don’t think I camp in this, do you?”
White shirt. Shiny blue pants. I shrug helplessly.
“Hang on.”
He disappears in his garage while I stand on the drive and think, He loves me. He loves me, too!
He jogs back wearing an electric blue coat to match the pants and a shiny blue cummerbund around his waist.
“My dad bought the suit off eBay for a Halloween costume. It’s the only tux I could get my hands on last minute.”
“A tux?”
He finds my hands again, and I love how he slides his up the satin material. “What are these things?”
“They’re called gloves.”
“They’re the sexiest things I’ve ever seen. Except for the dress. And the lipstick.” His eyelids turn heavy. “Except for you.” His hands run up my arms, and goose bumps follow. He sighs. “I know I accused you of being afraid, but I was just as bad. I totally shut down after my dad died, told myself I didn’t need a life plan. I was going to bum around and see the world. Maybe I thought I could get back what I’d lost if I took Dad with me. But really, I didn’t want to lose anything else.”
He smiles as he traces a finger over my eyebrows. My nose. The tip of my chin. “It was working, until I met you—the worst possible girl for me. It wasn’t a matter of would it end, but when it would end. I knew I had to get over you. The way I felt…it scared me. When you seemed to feel the same way, it scared me even more.”
“Why?” I breathe.
“Because I wanted it so bad. But I was afraid to trust in us.”
“You mean trust in me. And then I wouldn’t tell my parents about you.”
“And I wouldn’t give an inch on my end. I was afraid to take the risk that I’d change and you would still leave. Instead, I was going to be the one who left.” He looks back at his car. “I had everything packed up, and Dad was on the counter ready to go. And then my mom said some things. Got me thinking. I realized I wasn’t going anywhere. I was just running away.” His eyes lock with mine, and our fingers twist together. “I know I said I didn’t want strings, but now I want every thread of my life back. And you’re the one who ties them all together.”
Tears fill my eyes. “Now, that is poetic.”
“Better than wanting to throw a sock at you?”
I laugh. “Much better.”
He studies my hands again. “I really love these gloves. Can I take them off?”
“Anthony!”
He grins. “I want to go to the dinner tonight. I want to prove to your parents that I’ll be there by your side when you need me.” He pauses, pulls something from the inside of his coat pocket, and unfolds the papers. “I forgot to show you this.”
I see the Community Cares logo at the top. “You filled out the grant application?”
“I thought I could introduce myself to the counselor tonight.” He stuffs the application away. “I know Grant will be there. I know there isn’t a seat for me. It doesn’t matter. I want you to see that I’m committed.”
“That’s really sweet.” I slide my gloved hand over his cheek. Mine, I think. I decide that I might have to add a new adjective to describe me. Possessive. Then I step back as I shake my head firmly. “But we’re not going. We’re going camping. I’ve thought it all through. I can do this, Anthony.”
“In that dress?”
“I was afraid I’d miss you if I stopped to change.” I hold up the hem. “But I have practical shoes on.”
He eyes my shoes. “Do you know anything about camping?”
“Fine. We can go by my house and I’ll change.”
It’s his turn to shake his head. “Mai, you don’t get it. You don’t have to. I decided my dad is right where he should be.”
“What about the tradition?”
“I’m still going to drink coffee with the sunrise. But I don’t have to go up north to do that.”
“Anthony.” I fold my arms over my chest. “You’re making it very difficult for me to make this sacrifice for you. It’s a grand gesture. Josie assures me it’s the kind of thing they’d do in a Jane Austen movie.”
“First of all, I don’t know Jane Austen or what kind of movies she makes. Second of all, you don’t get to decide who makes the grand gesture. That’s what the guy does.”
I roll my eyes. “We have much work to do on the Jane Austen front. And more importantly, are you really going to insist on tired gender roles?”
His eyes crinkle at the corners a second before his dimple appears, and his laugh fills the air. Fills me.
“Come here,” he says.
“Why?”
“I want to dance with those gloves.”
Warm happiness bubbles up from my heart and flows through every inch of me. I step closer and slide my hands into his. “Wait,” he says. “Hang on.” He runs in the garage, flips on his music. Something heavy and bass booms out for a second, and then the station switches. I smile when an Ed Sheeran song comes on.
He’s back a second later. “How is this for our brain waves?”
“Perfect.” I slide my hands over his shoulders. He slides his around my waist. “We’re going to make plans,” he says. “Tons of plans. We’re going to have rules. And we’re going to caramelize sugar all the time.”
“And I’m not going to be afraid to take risks or make mistakes. We’ll eat from trucks. We’ll eat raw dough.” I tug on a piece of his hair. “We’ll eat raw dough from trucks.”
His laugh sends shivers across my ear. “This two-week fling was a disaster.”
“A complete fail.”
He hugs me so close, I can’t breathe. I don’t care. Air feels unnecessary when I have Anthony.
“I love you, Mai,” he says.
His heart beats against my ear, and I breathe in time with it. “I love you, too.”
He slowly turns us on the pavement, the sky slowly dissolving into colors above us. The few cars who pass slow down to gawk. I try to imagine what we look like. Me, in my gown and long gloves. Anthony, in his electric blue tux. The two of us dancing on his driveway. We’re completely out of place and exactly where we want to be.
With each other.
Chapter Forty-Three
Anthony
The trail looks different in the dark. The bushes and brush form a blurred carpet while the Saguaros stand out like shadow sentries. The ridges above feel taller, melting into the sky. Already there’s a hint of gray where the sun’s first rays are creeping in.
Mai follows close behind, her hand in mine, my headlamp lighting the way over ground we’ve covered the past couple of weeks. I could’ve brought her anywhere for this, but somehow, this felt right.
She was waiting outside for me at five a.m., looking rumpled and sleepy and beautiful. She’s in her usual long-sleeve shirt, khakis, and hiking boots, but there’s no hat this morning, and her hair is loose and uncombed. I kissed her when she climbed in my car, and she kissed me back. No more rules. No more secrets.
We took care of that last night when we showed up to the CC dinner. No one could miss me in my bright blue tux—which turned out to be the surprise hit of the night. All these old guys kept shaking my hand, telling me about the proms they went to in the eighties wearing the exact same tux. Before I knew it, I’d met most of the CC board, including the lady who offered to look at my grant proposal next week.
Mr. and Mrs. Senn weren’t exactly thrilled to see me, but I get it. They’re protective of Mai, and I have to prove myself. And I will. Mai says Ethan will come around, to
o. Hard to believe, but so is everything else that’s happened.
Still feels like I’m walking through a dream.
I let go of Mai’s hand and sling my pack off my shoulders. “This is a good spot.” Crouching in the dirt, I pull out a small camp stove, a speckled green enamel coffee pot, and two matching cups. She sits on a rock, rests her face on her knees, and watches. I start the propane heat, add water to the pot from a bottle I brought, and add instant coffee grounds to the cups.
“No comments about botulism?” I ask.
“Nope,” she says. “I’m too happy to contemplate poisoning. Besides, if the coffee kills me, I’ll probably get my own chapter in Ben’s book.”
“Good point.”
The water begins to boil as the gray sky turns slowly to purple. I sit beside Mai and let my eyes drift shut. There’s a taste of earth in the air and the sound of wings above. Is Dad up there, too, looking down on me? A pang of grief grips my throat, makes it hard to swallow. I wish he was here.
Mai’s fingers stroke through my hair. “You okay?”
I open my eyes, blinking them clear. “Just thinking about my dad. I wish he could have met you.”
“I wish I could have met him, too.”
The pot starts rattling, and she startles. “Is it supposed to do that?”
I laugh. “Grab the cups, city girl.” I pull the pot off the heat and pour water in each. I take one of the mugs and cup it in my palms. Mai does the same, sniffing hesitantly.
“Smells like coffee. Sort of.”
She settles beside me. The ground is cold and hard, but the air filling my lungs feels clean and fresh. Together, we watch the sun work its magic. One day, I’ll tell her all about Dad, but for right now, I’m glad she’s here with me, sipping bad coffee and watching a new day. I’m sad on this anniversary, but I also feel an optimism I haven’t felt before. I know that no matter what I do or where I go, I’ll take Dad with me.
We’re going to go places, Dad.
It isn’t until the sun is just showing its face that Mai realizes where we are. “The rock hop trail!”
I nod and toss out the rest of my coffee. “What a coincidence.”
“Anthony!”
I take her cup and dump it, too. She stands and looks over the edge as I pack up. “I’m not going to break a leg the day before I go to California.”
We worked out most of the plans last night. Mai leaves for California tomorrow. I’ll head out then, too. I’ll spend two weeks with Troy in San Diego before driving up to be with Mai. She’s got a long weekend we’ll spend together before I head back to Phoenix.
“You aren’t going to break anything.”
“But am I going to get bit by anything?”
“Other than me?”
She shoves my shoulder with a prim look I don’t buy for a second. “Are you really going to lead a project for Community Cares?”
I slip on the pack. “Quit stalling.”
“I don’t want to die with unanswered questions.”
I roll my eyes, but it’s with a laugh. Last night at dinner, there was talk about creating a project to turn trash into art. It shocked me when Mrs. Senn suggested I might want to be a co-leader. “Yeah, I really am. Amber said she’d lead it with me. I’m also going to text Garvey today and see if we can meet.”
“Garvey? The general contractor? The one who gave you the welding table?”
“He does custom work with steel and wood. Some really beautiful stuff. He once said I could do an apprenticeship with him. Learn the craft, make good money, and have time for my own projects.” I take a breath, a little embarrassed to put voice to plans that still seem as breakable as blown glass. “I’m hoping the offer still stands. I’m ready to say yes.”
Her smile lights me up. “You should. You’re talented, Anthony.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I shrug. “I might be if I work at it.” I shrug again. “I want to work at it. Make something with my hands that lasts. Something permanent when it feels sometimes like nothing is.”
Even with everything that’s happened between Mai and me, there’s still so much changing. She’s leaving. She starts college in another state. There are so many unknowns. Except the way I feel about her. That’s as permanent as it gets.
She finds my hand, threads her fingers with mine. “We’ll see each other as much as we can.”
“And I’ll be out soon,” I say. “In two weeks.”
“Two weeks.” She sighs. “Sounds like a perfect plan.”
I give her a quick kiss on the cheek. “So what do you think? You want to do this?”
She looks down at the trail then back at me. “Let’s do it.”
And we take our first step to the future together.
Loved Mai and Anthony’s story? You won’t want to miss where it all began with Josie and Garrett. Keep reading to discover ANNOUNCING TROUBLE.
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Chapter One
For a cold day in hell, it’s unseasonably warm.
I squint against the sun, but unfortunately that doesn’t change the view of what’s ahead—or the fact that I’m heading there of my own free will. A baseball field. The one place I swore I’d never step foot again.
Mai stops me with a hand on my arm. “How do I look?” A breeze ruffles the spiky edges of her chin-length bob.
“Nervous,” I say.
“This is a bad idea, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I tell her. For about the tenth time. “I’ve never seen you this crazy over a boy before.”
“I know, and I don’t like it.” She’s wearing her usual—a button-down shirt over leggings and sneakers—but she’s added red lipstick. She never wears makeup. Mai is one of those naturally beautiful girls who doesn’t try and doesn’t care.
Until Anthony Adams turned his million-watt smile on her six days ago.
“We can still leave,” I say, making it sound like the best idea ever. Because it is.
“I can’t,” she groans. “My girl parts have staged a coup and taken control.” She glances to the field where our baseball team, the Cholla High Wildcats, is now jogging out for the start of the first inning. She grabs my hand and holds it against her chest. “Feel how fast my heart’s beating?”
“He’s a jock, Mai. You don’t even like sports.”
“I know.” She looks at me helplessly. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Mai is the kind of person who’s intense about everything. It makes sense that when she finally decided to fall in lust, she’d fall hard.
But Anthony is the complete opposite of Mai’s dream guy. I know. I’ve seen her checklist. I get the whole bad-boy vibe with the longish hair, the tees that hug his muscles—even the heavy chain he wears around his wrist is kind of hot if you like that look.
Which Mai never has.
But Anthony is also a player—in every sense of the word. This year I have to pass his locker, and a few of his teammates’, to reach mine. I’ve seen the constant rotation of girls. Maybe it’s innocent, maybe he’s a great guy, but I grew up around baseball and I’ve seen enough that, I’m sorry, but they’re guilty until proven innocent.
Especially when it comes to my best friend.
But even though I’ve warned Mai, here we are. This is so far from her comfort zone, I’m hoping that watching a game will be enough to crush her crush. But still…baseball. There’s a clear crack as someone’s bat finds the ball and then a cheer from the crowd on the bleachers.
I shudder under the warm Phoenix sun. I vowed it would be a cold day in hell before I ever watched baseball again. But Mai is my best friend. You do not send your bestie into enemy territory without backup.
I grab her arm. “Let’s get this over with.”
Hell, here I come.
We’re in the fifth inning. Anthony Adams is, as I predicted, uninterested in the brainy girl mooning at him from behind home plate. The bleachers are surprisingly crowded, which is why we’re so close to the action. My seat is partially blocked by the elevated broadcast booth, which I didn’t mind at first, but now I’m getting annoyed. I can hear everything the announcers are saying, and these guys are awful. I’m sure the only people listening are parents and grandparents, but even so, they deserve better.
“That’s a hit from Clemens.” It’s the one with the higher voice. He must be right by the door because I hear him the loudest. “Too bad it was caught by the right fielder.”
I knock my knuckles against my forehead. “It’s not a hit if it gets caught.”
“Shhh,” Mai says. “Don’t distract me with actual information about the game.”
“I thought you liked learning new things.”
“Not about this.”
“Mai Senn.” I add her last name because I know she hates it. It sounds like you’re saying “My Sin.” Her first name is actually Maya. It has something to do with a Greek goddess, springtime, and the month of May—which is when her parents adopted her. But everyone calls her Mai.
I’m thinking about how to get her out of here when she squeezes my arm. “Did you see that? Anthony almost caught the ball with his mitt-thing.”
“It’s a baseball glove.”
Mai has to be the only one here who knows less than the announcers. To be fair, the guy doing play-by-play knows his stuff. But the guy who’s supposed to add color with his commentary—hence the title “color commentary”—could have his brains completely removed with a teaspoon. “He’s terrible,” I complain.
“Who?” Anthony is adjusting himself at third base, and Mai is riveted.
“He’s wearing a cup,” I say. “It’s not real.”
“Do not kill my buzz.”
I swallow a laugh. Mai is kind of adorable when irrational. Who knew.
Then I hear the announcer again, his words setting me on edge. “That should have been called a balk. That pitcher didn’t come set.”
How to Quit Your Crush Page 21