He might have the right idea, I realize when I lay eyes on the truck. I take an instinctive step back when I see it.
It’s this huge shit-kicker pickup, old and blue and rusty around the edges. It looks like it must belong to some kind of gigantic redneck that goes by the name Bubba.
Beside me, Star stands frozen, and all at once all the muscles in my body have tensed back up again and I feel like I’m about to head into a brawl. Beside me, Bruiser growls low in his throat, and I reach out and grab him by his collar, holding him back. Whatever is about to happen—and something is going to happen, of that I have no fucking doubt—I don’t want Bruiser to be the one to start it.
The truck’s passenger door swings open suddenly, and Bruiser barks at the movement and lunges forward. I look down and jerk him back before he can make a break for it. Then I look back up, and I freeze.
What the hell?
I watch as a plump brunette hops out of the cab of the pickup. She’s got a smile on her face so big that she looks like she could light up the night sky with it. There’s a slam and a figure emerges from the other side, rounding the nose of the truck and heading for the front path. It’s a dude, but he’s far from the bible-thumping, squirrel-shooting redneck I’d been picturing. This guy looks more like a Mormon or something. His dark hair is all neatly cut and styled, and he’s wearing a pair of khakis that I can see from here have been ironed. Not to mention the dress shirt he’s wearing that he’s actually tucked into the pressed khakis.
Who the hell are these people? I wonder. Beside me, Bruiser lets out another bark and I hiss at him to be quiet. I turn to Star, hoping she has some idea of what’s going on.
But what I see when I turn to look is not what I expected. At all.
Star . . . The only word that I can come up with to describe the look on her face is joyous. She looks like she just won the lottery, and she hasn’t had time to decide if she’s going to freak out and start screaming or if she’s going to start crying. She looks so happy. And it makes something inside me lurch.
I can’t believe how gorgeous she looks.
Before I can ask who these people are, she’s off the porch and racing toward the couple. The girl from the truck all but squeaks with joy, and opens her arms and catches Star as she barrels full-speed into a hug. The guy just stands there, hands in his pockets, smiling at the two girls. But his smile is fond. There’s affection there, and I try to make the thought of this straight-laced Mormon-looking dude and badass Star fit together in my brain. But as I’m twisting and turning this information over in my mind, I see Star’s hand shoot out, and watch as she grabs the guy by the front of his immaculately pressed shirt and yanks him into a reluctant group hug.
I . . . do not know what’s going on here. I glance down at Bruiser and find him staring up at me, his big puppy eyes full of confusion. His tail thumps once against the slats of the porch, as if to say Well?
Apparently Bruiser doesn’t know what to make of this, either.
Star
I can’t believe they’re actually here. What were they thinking? This is ridiculous. They drove through two states to get here. Who does that?
My friends are un-freaking-believable. I can’t believe how much I’ve missed them. I don’t think I even let myself feel it, until they were staring me right in the face.
I smile and shake my head as Autumn leans down and ruffles Bruiser’s ears. I can’t believe they’re here. I honestly feel like if I close my eyes or turn my head or even let them out of my sight for too long, Autumn and Roth will disappear.
I can’t remember ever being this happy, except for when I got into college. But that was different. That was my own achievement. That was happiness mixed with pride. This is something different. This is the friendship I’ve waited all my life for, a friendship big enough to make my chest hurt from their kindness.
This is what Ash felt when he found Bruiser. I just know it.
My smile is so big that my cheeks are starting to hurt, but I can’t stop. Bruiser is feeding off the energy, and is racing about like he’s having the time of his life, rushing back and forth along the length of the porch, stopping for pets and cuddles, before squirming away and racing off and back again.
Ash, on the other hand, seems kid of . . . wary.
“So . . . ” he says, shifting his weight from his heels to the balls of his feet and back again in an awkward little sway. He’s got his hands buried deep in the pockets of his jeans, as though he has no idea what he should do with them, so he’s just decided to take them out of the equation entirely. “How long are you guys staying?”
“Just for the weekend,” Autumn says, giving Bruiser one last pat before she pulls herself back upright. “It’s a really long drive, so we’re going to have to head back early Monday morning. We’re sorry we didn’t come sooner,” she says, turning to me. “But we figured the long weekend was the best time to do it.”
Holy crap. Is it almost the Fourth of July already? I can’t believe so much time has passed. It feels like the last time I blinked it was the beginning of June. The realization is like a pit in my stomach. It’s already been a month and it’s felt like days.
How much longer until I’m forced to say goodbye to Ash. And worse, how much longer will it actually feel?
Crap. I shake my head, trying to rid myself of those kinds of thoughts. My friends are here, and that is something to celebrate.
“What are you guys even doing here?” I ask. Because as happy as I am to see them, it isn’t like Avenue is a hopping vacation resort. “I mean, I’m happy you’re here, but it’s kind of boring. We can show you the lake, I guess, but . . . ”
“Ugh, we’re here to help you, Star,” Autumn groans out, and her words take a second to sink in.
“You mean—”
She motions something between a hand-flap and jazz-hands toward the house. “We’re here to help you clean out the house.”
“Holy shit. Seriously?”
For a moment, I’m sure it’s me that’s spoken. Those were the exact words that were floating about in my head. But it wasn’t me. It was Ash. I turn to him and his eyes are kind of bugged out of his face, and as I watch they dart between Autumn and Roth. “No, really. Are you serious?”
Autumn and Roth look at each other and sigh. I’m used to that, they do it to me all the time. But it’s kind of nice being on the outside when they do it. Watching them do the are-you-really-so-difficult look to someone else gives me a sick kind of delight.
They do their silent mind-meld talking thingy and whatever they’re duking it out over Roth loses. He gives Autumn a long-suffering look and she grins gleefully as he turns to Ash and holds out his hand. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Rothwell Harvey. And you are?”
“Rothwell,” Ash repeats, testing it out in his mouth like he’s uncertain what he’s saying is even a word. I know the feeling. Roth’s name is pompous as hell.
“Roth,” I say his name like the warning it is. And he glances over at me. No torturing Ash, I think at him, hoping that for once I’ll finally manage to get through to him like Autumn does.
His shoulders drop a little and he sighs and turns back to Ash. “You may call me Roth, as the girls do,” he says, and his voice is still proper enough to belong to an eighty-year-old judge from the Old South, but I’ll take it for what it is. Progress.
“Oh-kay,” Ash says, and holds out his own hand to shake Roth’s. It’s like watching some strange kind of bird mating dance. Full of posturing and awkward as hell, but impossible to look away from.