he explained.
I jumped to my feet, then felt awkward standing so many steps above him as he lingered in the yard, six feet away. Even with al my added false inches, we were eye to eye. “It’s your family’s restaurant?”
He nodded. “My grandpa started it. Bliss was my grandmother’s name.
My parents took it over when Pops wanted to retire.”
“And you and your brother work there now.”
“Brothers,” he corrected. “There are five of us. But I’m the only one stil slinging pizza. Baby of the family.”
His voice was light and wry and I found myself wishing I could see the smile that must be hiding beneath his mask, certain it would be as dazzling as he was.
“What about you? Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“Only child.”
“I can’t imagine how peaceful your house must be!”
“Believe me, I think you’ve got it better. It was too peaceful here today.”
He tilted his head, studying me. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah…my parents both started work and it’s just…weird being in a new house al day by yourself, you know?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been home by myself,” he said with a laugh. “But at least you had total control over the remote, right?”
“There’s no cable!”
His eyes widened. “What? No!”
I launched into my tale of woe. Luka was a good listener, nodding with interest, and I was pleased when he chuckled in al the right spots. My feet itched to step in closer, shrinking the wide gap between us, but my mind replayed the ads that had flooded the news, matches jumping out of place before they caught fire, contaminated surfaces glowing red and spreading, peaked curves sharp as a coffin.
I stayed put.
“Aw, that’s terrible! I can’t believe he just left the stuff on the steps.” He glanced down at the boxes in his hands, recognition furrowing his eyebrows.
“Wel …maybe I can. There’re so many new rules about everything, it’s hard keeping track of what you’re supposed to do. Like hand washing!”
My eyebrows raised in horror. “You didn’t wash your hands before al this?”
He doubled over, snorting. “That’s not what I meant! But like—I don’t think I ever thought about how long I was supposed to wash them for. I just rinsed the soap off and went on my merry way.”
“Not me. I always counted to twenty seconds. Twenty-five, actual y.”
“Liar. What song do you sing?”
“Song?” I repeated.
“You’re supposed to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to yourself twice.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“You can’t sing ‘Happy Birthday’ when it’s not your birthday. Plus I was always craving cake.”
“Cake does sound real y good right now,” I admitted.
“You should have ordered some.”
I gasped theatrical y. “Wait, you sel cake?”
“Oh yeah, it’s what we’re known for. Mom uses my grandmother’s old recipes.”
“What kind?”
He shrugged. “All kinds. What’s your favorite?”
“Depends on what I’m in the mood for. Today I think my favorite is…” I paused thoughtful y. “German chocolate.”
His eyes lit up. “Ooh, with the coconut and the pecans? Yeah, I could definitely go for that.” He tsked. “Should have ordered some.”
“I didn’t know! You real y ought to include something about cake in the phone book.”
“Who uses the phone book?” He reached into his back pocket. “There you go, Mil ie Woodruff,” he said, smacking a menu onto the pizza box and leaving everything on the porch. “Prepare to have your mind blown.”
I picked up the trifold and scanned the dessert section, impressed. “These sound amazing.”
“They are….Hey, are you at Central?” He pointed to the paperback copy of The Catcher in the Rye I’d left open on the steps. “Mrs. Holwerda’s English?”
I brightened. “I wil be. In the fal . With al of the remote-learning stuff, my teachers are letting me finish the year in Memphis, even up here. Wel …if I ever get the internet back.”
It had been rather nice to not have eleven thousand emails and notifications chiming at me as assignments piled in.
“We’re reading Catcher right now too. It just drags. And there’s like no point to it, right?”
“You sound like such a phony,” I teased.
“Why are they making us read it? Did you know that every serial kil er ever has a copy of that book on them when they’re caught?”
“Every serial kil er?” I raised a dubious eyebrow.
“Look it up! Wel , not right now, but later. The guy that kil ed the guy from the Beatles. JFK. Reagan.” He counted his list on his fingers. “There are loads more.”
“Reagan didn’t die,” I pointed out. “I mean, he’s dead now, but it wasn’t an assassination.”
“Al I’m saying…it’s a seriously questionable book and we shouldn’t be forced to read it.”
“What should we be reading, then?”
He tilted his head, considering, and I tried not to notice the curve of his jawline. The mask accentuated it, clearly defining its angles, and I longed to rip it aside to admire the boy underneath.
“Something by Shirley Jackson, maybe.”
I blinked, taken aback. Basketbal , cake, and now spooky books?
Luka was the perfect guy.
And I had no idea what he—or his sure-to-be-impossibly-adorable-cheerleader-girlfriend—real y looked like.
“I love her! I read Hil House last year when the show came out.”
His eyes sparkled. “We al read Hil House last year when the show came out. I’m so excited for season two. Have you read Turn of the Screw?”
“Not yet.”
“It’s so good. One of my favorites. I’ve read it about fifty times. Old horror is so much better than the new stuff. I like when you have to real y imagine al the creepy bits, not just have them come running out and smack you over the head. Like in—” He paused. “Sorry. I get real y excited about books.”
“Don’t apologize! I love scary movies.”
“Yeah? You’l go nuts over Henry James, then!”
“I’l look it up the next time I’m at…” I trailed off, a wedge of emotions lodged in my throat. I didn’t know what the local bookstore here was and even if I did, it didn’t matter. I wouldn’t be able to go inside and mindlessly browse, looking up books that a cute guy recommended.
“Right…” Luka nodded with understanding. “Curbside delivery is al wel and good but it’s definitely not the same.” His eyes flickered down to the Salinger. “We’ve got a test on that Friday.”
“Us too!”
“That’s funny. I could come over later if you want talk through—”
A tinny version of Weezer’s “Africa” started playing, leaving my hopes hung impossibly high, pinned at the back of my throat. I felt like I was at an amusement park, on the free-fal drop, the split second before gravity took over.