As much as I wanted to grab my phone and tell Marisa how right she’d been about her dad being an asshole, how he treated me and how he treated her were two different things.
I’d suck it up and deal with the fallout of making it clear we were only friends, and I’d try to toe the line through the end of next season, but then all bets were off.
Then he couldn’t lord my future over me, and I could finally tell her how I felt—if it wasn’t already too late.
For three weeks, she’d been avoiding me. Somehow, instead of making it better, it made it a hell of a lot worse. We were about to spend the whole summer apart.
I pulled up to the airport departure lane, my car one of many offloading their passengers.
Marisa picked her bag up off the floor, double checked for her passport and wallet in the front pocket, and gave me a smile like she was psyching herself up for the first day of summer camp. The first smile in the three weeks since That MorningTM.
She’d taken to sleeping on the back-breaking couch, until Keyton moved in a few of his things early, including a couch which hadn’t been designed during the Spanish Inquisition. After that, I hadn’t even had that as an excuse to get her back into my bed.
“Call me when you land.”
Wrapping her arms around her bag, she looked over at me. “I will.”
Nervous excitement radiated off her. It was her first trip out of the country. We’d picked the bag up the day after her emergency appointment after the fire.
“I can’t believe you’re going away for the whole summer.” A grip tightened around my heart. Her freshman year she’d been in New York had sucked. I’d missed her—a lot. But I’d had classes and a whole season to gear up for. All summer without her would suck. The gym and my summer classes would take up some time, but there would be no water balloon fights, road trips to the shore, riding carnival rides until we were about to puke, or hanging out in the backyard soaking up the sun.
“Now you won’t have to worry about me bugging you during workouts or forcing you to go out for late-night ice cream runs.”
I didn’t mind any of that one bit.
“The house will be quiet without you.”
“Berk and Keyton will be there.” She fiddled with the zipper on her bag. “Are you sure everyone’s cool with me living there? I don’t want to cramp everyone’s style with my lady parts.” She vaguely gestured to parts of her anatomy I’d been trying to keep my thoughts off for years now.
“They’re hoping you’ll help us ward off unwanted female attention.”
She snorted. “Half the women on campus would plow through me in a heartbeat for a chance at any of you guys.”
“Good thing you’ve got strong shoulders.” I squeezed hers.
Her laugh was full this time.
“Plus, Berk’s hung up on his pen pal and has been keeping a low profile since they’ve started trading dirty letters. Keyton is…” I shrugged. “Keyton. Who the hell knows? You’re not cramping anyone’s style.”
It also meant she could stay in our up-to-code house where she didn’t have to take on a random as a new roommate now that Liv was squarely in the shacked-up category with Ford.
I had to subsidize her rent a little to make it work. I’d pay off the private loan once I got my signing bonus in the spring. The interest rate was ridiculous since my parents’ credit was shot and I barely had any, but it was for less than a year. The stretch would be worth it to have her close, no matter how much that killed me.
She fiddled with her bag even more. “What if I hate it?”
“You won’t. You’ve been looking forward to this since forever. All those paintings you’ve been forcing me to look at for years—you’ll finally get to see them in person. Gondola rides for days. Maybe learn to cook some Italian food.” I ducked my head trying to catch her eye.
“I make a great spaghetti already.” She shot me a look.
I fought against the shudder. Every bite of her food was taking your life into your own hands. “You’re right. But it’s always good to learn new techniques. Maybe you’ll up your game.”
“Maybe.” Silence descended on the car.
“Marisa—“
“LJ—“
We spoke at the same time. An uncomfortable chuckle followed by our gazes connecting.
I opened my mouth.
A knock on the window broke through the tension building in the car. I turned and glanced out at the cop.
“Drop off only. You’ve been here too long already.” He walked on to the next car and did the same thing.
“We should get you inside.” I popped the trunk and opened my door, climbing out and heading to the back of the car. “I’m glad you’ve finally gotten this trip. You should’ve gone ages ago.”
“It’s not a big deal. I figured I’d get there eventually.”
“I know, but…I wish it had been when you were supposed to go.”
She dropped her hand onto my arm. “LJ, enough with guilt tripping yourself. Sometimes I swear you’re only friends with me out of obligation.” Her laugh was reedy and a little stilted.
“Nah, it’s also because of your wonderful cooking skills.”
Her glare was precise, but her lips twitched. “More like the fact that I’m the only one who’ll touch your dirty underwear.”
“I never asked you to do my laundry.” And I hadn’t. But Marisa made it a Thursday night movie tradition to handle the folding, which I hated. Putting my clothes in the washer—sure. Them making it to the dryer before they got mildewy was debatable. Folding was an absolute no. She was probably the only reason I still had friends after freshman year when she’d come to campus and balked when she saw how long it had been since I’d last washed it all.
“It was that or watch you try to Febreeze your way through another year. No one needed that.”
“Come on, it wasn’t that bad.” I wrestled her bag out of my trunk, hefting it up and out and setting it onto the yellow no parking lines across the front of the drop off area.
“Your clothes were a week from walking out the front door all on their own.”
Marisa followed me and grabbed onto the handle of her bag. Her hand landed half on top of mine. The commotion of the airport was a background track.
Eight weeks. We hadn’t been apart for that long since freshman year before she transferred. All those same crazy scenarios I’d run when she went to New York came roaring back. Would she be safe? What if she had the time of her life and never came back? What if she met some guy?
Her gaze was filled with uncertainty, excitement, and fear.
I wished I could go with her. I wanted to be her partner in crime, exploring Venice with side trips to Rome and train rides to Switzerland, Germany, and France.
“Let’s go.” A call broke through the hustle and bustle of the crowds around us. “Kiss your girl and leave. You’re already over the time limit.” The cop blew his whistle and went back to hounding people.
Marisa stared at the center of my chest before pulling the bag from my grasp. Her arms wrapped around me for a way-too-short hug. “See you, L. Have a great summer.”