Rob is sitting and talking with both my grandparents in a comfortable way. He looks up at me and grins. His eyes crinkle up when he does that.
“I remember that dress,” he says. “Fourth of July.”
I look down at the blue dress with the red whales embroidered on it. I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I go along with it anyway.
“I’ll be back in an hour,” I tell my grandparents.
“No rush,” says Grandpa. “You two should catch up. Don’t worry about dinner.”
“Okay,” I say uncertainly. “Bye.”
I’m frowning as we walk to Rob’s car. He opens my door for me, but I don’t get in just yet.
“Did my grandparents call you and ask you to take me out?” I ask.
“Yes,” Rob answers. I turn away from him and make for the house. He grabs my arm to stop me. “And I almost crashed my car twice, I was so excited to see you again.” I breathe out a surprised laugh, and he laughs with me. “Yeah, so, that’s pretty much all my cards on the table,” he mumbles. He realizes he’s still holding my bare arm and lets go.
“What did they tell you when they called?” I press.
His brow creases with concern. “They told me your parents are going through a brutal divorce, and you’re having a really hard time with it.”
I widen my eyes at him, urging him to continue. “And that you got into some trouble at school.”
“Is that it?”
He shifts uncomfortably. “Is there more?” I don’t respond, so he makes a frustrated sound and runs a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m not here to do a good deed and comfort the sad girl with asshole parents,” he says, making me laugh again. “I’m here because I want to see you.”
I smile and look down. “Okay,” I say.
“Okay.” He gestures to the open car door. “Let’s get something greasy to eat.”
Rob takes me to a little place by the ocean called the Snack Shack. We sit outside. The sun takes forever to go down while we eat french fries and drink iced tea. He tells me about his parents’ split when he was thirteen. He shows me a photo he has in his wallet. Most guys would just keep a picture in their phone, but he went to the trouble to make an actual print. Something he can hold in his hands. He’s a tactile guy. I notice he takes good care of his nails as he shows me the photo. Buffed, but low shine. Still masculine.
“This is the last picture of all three of us,” Rob says.
“Your mom’s gorgeous,” I say, because she is. Long brown hair like mine. His dad is handsome, too. Strong jaw, charismatic eyes. “You look just like your dad now,” I say, although the Rob in the picture is an awkward kid. “When was this taken?” I ask.
“Five years ago? You and I met this same summer,” he tells me.
Now I really remember him. He was always one of us “summer” kids, as opposed to the “year-rounders” who weren’t what I’d consider dating material back then. Meaning: he came from money, but he had no style. He was a good kid, but I wasn’t interested in that. I went for Liam. The cute boy who wore all the right clothes.
“My parents split up a few months later.” Rob looks one last time at the photo before putting it away. “I don’t know what was worse. The screaming or the silence after.” I nod and hold his gaze, offering what little comfort I can by listening.
“My dad took our place out here, and my mom is at the Seattle estate. I go between them because my mom is alone, but I prefer it here. Anyway,” he says, shaking his head and sighing. “We were supposed to be talking about you. I’m usually the shoulder to cry on, and here I am spilling my guts.”
“It’s good. I’m tired of my story. I’d rather hear someone else’s.”
He leans forward, nodding understandingly. “I bet you’ve talked about it a lot with all your friends in New York.”
“No.”
He gives me a disbelieving look. “Come on. You’re probably the most popular girl in your school. I bet you throw friends away.”
It’s a little cruel of him to say, but I can’t contradict him. “I used to,” I admit. “I don’t have friends anymore.”
He realizes I’m telling the truth. “What happened?”
I look out at the sun that just won’t set. “I told a very big lie,” I say. I look back at him. “And I got caught.”
His eyes pop with intrigue. “You have to explain that.”
I shake my head and poke at the ice in my glass with my straw. “Some other time, maybe.”
He doesn’t push. Instead, he keeps talking. Filling the silence with information about the town of Pinedale, our current home. We finish our tea, and he pays. I offer, but he shrugs me off with a “next time,” and then he walks me to the car and opens the door for me.
“Tomorrow I’ll take you to a barbecue so you can get to know everyone again,” he says, climbing into the driver’s seat.
“Tomorrow?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “We’re going out again tomorrow?”
“Definitely.” He starts the engine and backs out with a smile. Like he’s daring me to contradict him.
He walks me to my door, even though it’s a little silly and completely awkward. I put a lot of space between us, just in case.
“Give me your number,” he says, pulling out his phone. We exchange digits, and he pockets his phone again. “Tomorrow,” he says firmly. His eyes dart down to my lips, like he’s thinking about kissing me. I turn away from him to unlock the door.
“Maybe,” I reply, pushing my way inside.
July 16
Morning
I used to be really popular.
But the problem with having a packed social schedule is that you can’t always go where you say you’re going to go. You make promises to acquaintances, to parents, to guys, and you mean to follow through, but then things happen. And before you know it, someone is hurt or angry or disappointed.
It’s hard to be perfect and popular. When everyone wants something from you, eventually you reach a breaking point. Someone is going to be let down. But I thought I was so clever. I thought I came up with the perfect solution. Actually, it wasn’t just me, but that doesn’t matter anymore. I’m the one who took the fall. “Are you going for another hike today?” Grandma asks, interrupting my reverie. “By yourself?”
“Do you need me to stay here and help you with something?” I ask.