We filed onto the restaurant’s enclosed porch, looking out over a forest of trees. The tables were clean and set for the dinner shift, but Lydia and Natalie had created an opening where we could work on the portrait.
“How’s this?” Natalie said, plopping down in a chair by the porch screen.
Lydia hovered by the table next to her, and for the first time, I realized I hadn’t thought this through. I usually worked alone, removed from everyone else. Now I’d be trying to create something with two people watching me, one of whom was the cutest girl I’d ever met.
As if she could read my mind, Lydia asked, “Are you comfortable, Codi?”
“Oh, um, yeah,” I said, trying to play it cool. “Just trying to get in the zone.”
“I can leave if it’s distracting.”
“No, no, not at all,” I assured her. It was a blatant lie, but they didn’t know me well enough to sense it. If Maritza and JaKory were here, they’d be smirking behind their hands, able to feel every wave of nervousness radiating off me. Maritza would crack some dry joke like, Distracting? Why would you worry that you’re distracting her, Lydia?
Natalie was now rummaging in a tote bag, pulling out clothes and a makeup kit. Without warning, she stripped out of her restaurant polo and stood there in a neon-pink push-up bra, showing Lydia the shirt options she’d brought. I averted my eyes, busying myself with setting up my materials.
Natalie seated herself back on the chair, now dressed in a navy silk top, her hair freshly sprayed and angled perfectly over her face. At first she looked poised, but then I noticed she kept fidgeting with her hair. Her eyes were flitting around like she wasn’t sure where to rest them.
Lydia had noticed, too. “Nat,” she said firmly. “Look alive.”
Natalie rolled her eyes and crossed one leg over the other, her posture tight. She was trying to play it cool, but I could tell she was uncomfortable. It gave me an idea.
“Hey, actually…” I said to Lydia, “could you sit next to Natalie and talk?”
“Talk?”
“Yeah, just have a natural conversation. Bring out the authentic Natalie.”
Lydia raised her eyebrows, her expression mischievous as she turned to Natalie. “Codi thinks I bring out your authentic side.”
It made my stomach swoop, hearing her say my name. I’d never liked it as much as I did in that moment.
Natalie rolled her eyes again. “Shut up, Lyd, just come talk to me.”
They sat next to each other, two best friends making each other laugh, and I began to paint.
* * *
“Codi, this is insane,” Natalie said, eyes wide as she took in her portrait. “I’m, like, creeped out by how good it is.”
The time had passed in a flowing, meditative way. Lydia and Natalie had talked and laughed about everything imaginable, from how they’d run late to their own graduation to how much they loved Lydia’s grandma Mimi to the day last October when they’d gotten caught leaving campus in the middle of third period (“We got three days of detention for that one,” Natalie snickered). I’d painted Natalie with all the vibrancy I could see in her. The bright red hair was the easy part; it was her confident, sunny face I had truly wanted to capture, and Lydia had coaxed it out.
“Codi, this is just … wow,” Lydia said. “I love that you painted her midlaugh.”
I smiled self-consciously. “It felt right.”
She looked intently at me. “You have really good instincts.”
I could actually feel my face turning red, and I hastened to look away from her. “Thanks.”
We traipsed out to the parking lot, Natalie carrying her portrait in front of her like a treasure. “I can’t wait to show Cliff,” she said in an awed voice. “He’ll love it. He’ll want you to paint me naked.”
I snorted, hoping to god she was kidding.
We waved Natalie off, and then it was only Lydia and me, standing together in the bright, scorching parking lot, completely alone for the first time.
“You really are talented,” she said, her warm arm brushing against mine as we plopped against her car. “Oh, sorry,” she said, scooting away. “I probably smell like grease.”
“No, you don’t,” I said hastily. My skin buzzed from where she’d touched it. “I like grease, anyway.”
It was the stupidest thing I’d ever said, and I fought hard to keep my face neutral.
“I mean, you know, like hash browns and french fries,” I muttered.
Lydia laughed. “Yeah, and bacon.”
“Yeah, bacon, exactly.” I paused, trying to think of a subject change. “I’m surprised Natalie wanted to do the portrait here.”
Lydia frowned, and I could tell she was going to reveal something about her best friend. “Yeah…” she said hesitantly. “She doesn’t really like being at home. Her family situation is kind of shitty.”
I wasn’t sure what to say to that. Natalie was such a cool, outgoing person; it was hard to believe she struggled with anything.
“But I also think she low-key loves the café,” Lydia went on, her voice brighter. “It’s our third summer working here, and everyone kinda feels like family at this point, even when they’re driving you crazy.” She smirked and met my eyes. “So whose portrait are you doing next?”
“Oh,” I said, caught off guard by the question. “Um … I don’t know. I guess I’ll see if there’s any demand.”
She nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Cliff will probably ask next. Natalie will make him because she’ll want to see what you do.” She paused. “Maybe you could paint mine sometime, too.”
I’d been hoping she would offer that, but I was also overwhelmed by the idea. I couldn’t imagine being alone with her for such a long stretch of time. All I managed to say was “Yeah, definitely.”
There was a pause, and I wondered if she had wanted me to give a more specific answer. I tried to think of a follow-up, something that would give me a guaranteed reason to see her, but it was like trying to summon an answer for a pop quiz.
“I should get going,” Lydia said finally, peeling herself off the car. “I have class in an hour.”
“Class?” I asked, my heart sinking.
“Yeah, I’m taking some credits at the community college. I’m going to GCSU next year, and they have a bunch of math requirements for freshmen, so I’m trying to get a few out of the way this summer.”
I could tell from the way she said it that it was the last thing she wanted to do. I thought back to the night we’d met at Ricky’s party, when she’d confided in me about not getting into UGA. It seemed like school was a point of sensitivity for her.
“I hate math,” I told her. “My best friend is a genius at it—she, like, wants to be an astrophysicist—but I despise it.”
Lydia’s eyes settled, and I could tell I had said the right thing. “Really?” she asked. “Me too. My mom is an accountant, and she can’t figure out how the math gene skipped over me. Everyone says I have her work ethic and smile, but somehow I didn’t get her brains.”
“You have an amazing smile,” I blurted out.
She gave me a funny look, almost like she knew I’d said that by accident, and my face and neck burned all over. “I mean … I’m sure you have a great work ethic, too,” I said stupidly.
She laughed lightly, not quite looking at me. “Thanks. Um, so … I’ll see you soon? Are you coming to Samuel’s party on Friday?”
I blinked. This was the first I’d heard of Samuel’s party, and I didn’t know how invites to these things were supposed to work.
My confusion must have shown on my face, because Lydia smiled and said, “He just texted about it this morning. I’m sure Ricky will give you the details.”
“Oh,” I said, blushing. “Yeah, I’ll ask him about it.”
“Cool. Well hey, thanks for letting me watch today.”
“Oh, yeah, no problem,” I said, nodding too much. “It was really helpful, having you there to talk to Natalie—I mean,
just having you there in general, ’cause I think it helped us be more loose and relaxed…”
She grinned at my rambling. “Yeah, it was awesome.”
“Yeah.” I paused. “Um, well … see you Friday.”
“Friday,” she agreed, ducking into her car. “Catch you later, Codi.”
“Bye, Lydia,” I said, slinking off before she could see me blush.
* * *
The whole way home, I imagined myself painting Lydia’s portrait. We were on the Court Café’s porch again, with her in that sky-blue polo, and I was making her laugh while I painted her long, honey-colored hair. The moment I finished, she stepped up next to me, dropped her head on my shoulder, and whispered how perfect it was.
My stomach was whirling all over the place by the time I walked into the house. Mom and Dad were still at work, and I didn’t know where Grant was, so I sat down at the kitchen table, pulled out my sketchbook, and began a preliminary sketch of how Lydia’s portrait might look. Even though she’d raved about Natalie’s, I had to make sure the one I painted of her—if it ever happened—was exceptional.
My phone was buzzing with a slew of texts from Maritza and JaKory, but I switched it to Do Not Disturb mode and popped my headphones in, playing the same song on repeat while I practiced. Sunshine streamed through the windows and spilled across the table, inching its way toward my drawing, and I took off my watch and forgot about everything other than the paper girl in front of me.
Then, all of a sudden, someone was peering over my shoulder.
Grant.
“What the hell!” I yelled, ripping my headphones out.
Grant was unfazed. “Who’s that?”
I flipped the drawing over, my heart hammering. “No one.”
“Is that someone you know?”
“It’s no one, Grant. Go away.”
“You’re being weird.”
“You smell like BO. Go take a shower.”
“I was outside,” he snipped. “That’s the place where normal people go.”
He said it with a mean edge to his voice. My heart was still pounding from his sneaking up on something so private, so revealing, but before I could say anything to shoo him away, he shocked me with another question.
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
His tone had changed to nosy curiosity, almost like we hadn’t been picking at each other only seconds before. I froze, a feeling of dread creeping over my stomach.
“I’ve seen you go out with that guy,” he went on. “The one with the truck.”
My heart pounded faster. Grant knew about Ricky, which meant he might tell my parents I had a boyfriend, and that would lead to a labyrinth of conversations I wasn’t ready to navigate; or, worse, he might let something slip to Maritza and JaKory, and I wasn’t ready to explain why I’d been hanging out with a new friend without them.
“Have you been spying on me?” I growled.
“It’s not spying if your room looks out over the driveway. What kind of truck does he have?”
“I don’t know, Grant. Stop asking about—”
“You don’t know what your boyfriend drives?”
“He’s not my boyfriend, dumbass,” I said harshly. “He’s just a—he’s a coworker from Totes-n-Goats who picks me up for work sometimes.”
It was a good lie that would hopefully prevent him from mentioning Ricky to my parents and friends, but he raised his eyebrows like he didn’t believe me. “Do Mom and Dad know him?”
“Of course they do,” I snapped. “Now will you get out of my face? Seriously, you smell. I hope you don’t hang around your girlfriend like this.”
In a flash, his expression soured. He stepped away from the table, smacking his hands against the chairbacks. “You used to be nice, Codi,” he said, his tone acidic again. “Now you’re an asshole.”
He loped out of the kitchen, shaking his hair out of his eyes. I tried to refocus on my sketch, but his words kept replaying in my head. I checked the texts Maritza and JaKory had been sending instead.
JaKory Green: What am I supposed to pack for this Florida trip? The father figure will want to bro out with sports-ball activities but I don’t own a single pair of those godforsaken athletic shorts
I had forgotten about JaKory’s upcoming visit with his dad. He was going to Florida for four days, like he did every summer, and he wasn’t exactly thrilled about it.
Maritza Vargas: Pack allllll the gay outfits. Troll that man haaaard
Maritza Vargas: Codi what should we do while he’s gone? Wanna stay over Friday night?
I stared at my phone, my stomach pinching uncomfortably. Friday night was Samuel’s party, and even though I hadn’t confirmed with Ricky yet, I was pretty sure I was going. More to the point, I wanted to go. But what was I supposed to tell Maritza?
Can’t dude, sorry, Mom wants to have a family movie night.
It was a weak lie, and I prayed she wouldn’t overthink it.
Maritza Vargas: You guys and your damn family values
I set my phone down, a mixture of guilt and relief settling over me.
* * *
On Thursday afternoon, Ricky and I met at our neighborhood pool, both of us fresh off work. There were tons of little kids there, shrieking and jumping and running around, so we grabbed chairs in the far corner of the lounge area and threw our clothes on the free chairs so no one would bother us.
“Of course you’re invited,” Ricky said, after I mentioned Lydia’s invitation to Samuel’s party. “I texted you that last night.”
“Yeah, I know, but I wanted to make sure it’s not, like … a pity invite.”
“Were you not listening when my friends made you promise to hang out with them again?”
“No, I was—”
“So stop second-guessing yourself. Tell me more about the portrait party.”
I filled him in on how Natalie’s portrait had turned out, including how Lydia had suggested I could paint hers sometime.
“And you said yes, right?” Ricky said, staring me down.
I winced, already knowing how he’d react. “I sort of left it open-ended.”
He sighed and dropped his head back like I was impossible. “Why? She offered you a ready-made chance to hang out with her!”
“Yeah, but I don’t know her well enough yet! It felt too—you know—soon. I want to know her better before I commit to something like that.”
“Girls,” Ricky huffed, shaking his head. “Can’t take an opportunity when it’s right in front of you—always need that emotional connection first—”
“What, you think I won’t get another opportunity?” I asked testily. “I’m not trying to rush into something here. I like this girl, and I like all your friends, but I want to feel my way into it at my own pace. I can’t act like someone I’m not.”
Ricky snorted. “You’re not capable of acting like someone you’re not.”
“Is that an insult?”
Ricky lowered his sunglasses. “Why are you being so defensive? I’m saying you’re a very genuine person.”
I looked away from him and watched the kids splashing in the water. Maritza, JaKory, and I were usually in there with them, Maritza picking fights with the brashest eleven-year-olds and JaKory begging everyone to play Categories. I had never come to the pool with anyone but them before. The thought of it made my throat ache.
“I don’t know, Ricky,” I sighed. “I don’t feel very genuine lately, not with the way I’m keeping things from Maritza and JaKory. I lied to Maritza about why I can’t hang out with her tomorrow night.” I paused. “And I lied to my brother yesterday, too.”
Ricky was quiet, his hand splayed over the pages of his UGA course catalog. “Listen. You have to understand why you’re doing it. Sometimes we lie because we have to take care of ourselves first.”
I knew he wasn’t only talking about me anymore. His hand had stilled on the page.
“Are you ever gonna tell your friends about … you?” I asked gently
. “’Cause now that I’ve met them, I don’t think they’re the type of people who would have a problem with it.”
He was silent again, thinking. “Maybe you’re right,” he said carefully. “But there’s no point telling them about something that only happened a few times.”
“So you don’t think it’ll happen again?”
“No.”
He said it in a way that shut down the conversation. I exhaled and stared out at the water, thinking of my two best friends. JaKory was in Tallahassee by now, trying to keep up with his dad and half brother; Maritza was still at dance camp, probably straining to outshine Vivien Chen. I hadn’t seen either one of them since Sunday, which was the longest we’d ever gone during a standard summer week, and I felt weird about it: On the one hand, I was discombobulated because it was so different from our normal routine, but on the other, I found myself missing them much less than I’d thought I would.
“Hey,” Ricky said, interrupting my thoughts. “We’re gonna have fun tomorrow night, all right? My sister got me a fifth of vodka for helping her move out of her dorm, and I know you’re dying to try vodka.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, trying to figure out his game, but all he did was waggle his eyebrows and lean back into the sun.
9
The world felt very important on Friday night.
I told Ricky I would drive, mostly because I didn’t want to feel like his accessory this time. I picked him up after dinner, and he came hustling out of the garage with his mom on his heels, fussing at him to fix his shirt collar. She stood in the driveway and watched him squeeze into my car.
Talking to parents made me more nervous than anything, but I didn’t want to be rude or awkward. I rolled down my window and smiled as I said hello.
Mrs. Flint had Ricky’s warm eyes, but they turned serious after she finished greeting me.
“Y’all be good,” she said, looking meaningfully at us.
“We will be,” Ricky said, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
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