And slowly, the hole in my heart fills with rage. I lie awake at night thinking of all the things I will say to him when I see him again. About how I will call him a coward and a liar. But deep down, I just don’t want the pain to stop. I don’t want to get over him. And despite my best efforts not to, Logan is right. I’m falling for Kyle.
He picks me up a little before six. Mom is already at work, but she wants details. Yeah, I’ll get right on that.
Pulling open the door I see that Kyle has his back to me, looking across the street like he sees something. For one insane, frantic moment I think he might see Logan. But when I follow his gaze, there’s nothing.
“Hey,” I say drawing him back to me.
He turns, holding out his hand. There’s a tiny blue box nestled in his palm.
“What’s that?” I ask suspiciously.
He chuckles. “A gift. For our first official date. Open it.”
My curiosity overwhelms me as I take the box, backing up so he can come inside. Lifting the lid I see a tiny pearl on a silver chain.
“It’s beautiful.” I say, staring at the white jewel. “You didn’t have to do that.”
He takes it from my fingers, motioning for me to turn around.
“I got it in Hawaii. I went last summer with Logan and his family. We went diving and there was this bed of oysters. We picked some to eat, and this was inside one.”
He clasps it around my neck and I touch it gently where it lies in the hollow of my neck.
Turning around I throw my arms around his neck with more vigor than I mean to, nearly knocking him over.
“Thank you,” I whisper, clutching him tightly.
Obviously he doesn’t get my emotional response—how could he?—but he hugs me back tightly, lifting me off my feet.
When he sets me down. I’m somewhat recovered. I grab my tan jacket and we head out to his truck.
“So which dress did you decide on,” he asks as we drive.
I laugh. “Oh, that’s going to be a surprise.”
He smiles. “Well, don’t I need to know what color it is so we can match?”
I stare at him like he’s speaking Greek.
“Huh?”
He shifts in his seat. “Oh. That was a thing with Darla. She always made me get a bow tie to match her dress color.”
I laugh out loud and raise my right hand, “I solemnly promise never, under any circumstance, to make you dress to match me.”
He shakes his head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to compare you, I thought it was just a chick thing. Kaylee used to do the same thing to Logan. I figured it was in the manual.”
I grab his arm. “Are you telling me there are instructions? My god, I never got the memo. How have I lived my life without it?”
“Oh, I think you’ve done pretty well for yourself.”
I grin and bring my shoulder to my chin playfully.
“Well, I did manage to land you, so I can’t be doing too terrible.”
He smiles brightly.
“Okay, I have to ask though. What the hell happened with you and Darla? Because, as you warned me, she is still hella bitter about it.”
“You really want to know?”
I try to look uninterested and fail miserably.
“Yes. I know it is none of my business and you can totally plead the fifth and I won’t hold it against you but, you just seem so…”
“Oh, this can’t be good.”
“Mellow. Like, easy to be around. I MUST know what she did to make you dump her. Otherwise, how will I know where the line is?”
“What line?”
“The line of how insane and bitchy I can be before you’ve had it with me.”
He shakes his head. “Well, trust me, I doubt you could ever even get close to that line. But if you really want to know, I wasn’t trying to be a jerk. But I realized that she wasn’t the person for me. Like, I felt it in my heart. I liked her, and that was great. But I never fell in love with her. And I thought she deserved to be with someone who did.”
“Wait, that’s it? You dumped her because you weren’t in love with her?”
He tilts his head. “Not just that. I realized I never would fall in love with her. She was a friend. But nothing more. What kind of relationship is that?”
I stare at him. He looks over warily.
“What?” he asks.
I lean my head against the seat.
“Wow. That’s the most incredibly honest thing I’ve ever heard of. I knew you were amazing, but that might actually push you over the edge into perfect territory.”
He laughs dryly. “No one’s perfect Zoe.”
“I didn’t mean perfect, perfect. I meant perfect for me,” I add quietly.
We descend upon the Captain’s Table—the nicest restaurant in town—hand in hand. He made a reservation sparing us the nearly two hour wait at the door. As we make our way to the corner table, the dim area aglow by candle light, my heart crawls into my throat. Dinner, sure. Pizza. Tacos. But this, this is downright romantic. Not what I was expecting and I’m not entirely sure I’m ready for this. Two tables over my next door neighbor and her husband are staring at me as I take a seat. Three tables behind Kyle a couple in their late 80’s or so are pointing to us and smiling in that vaguely condescending way only old people can. I scoot my chair in, folding my hands in my lap and cracking my knuckles.
“Are you alright?” Kyle asks, handing me the linen menu.
I plaster on a fake smile. This place probably cost him a month’s worth of paychecks, what kind of terrible person would I be to complain about it? One of the things I’ve always liked about the dark haired boy is his salt of the earth demeanor. Sure, his family is obscenely wealthy, sure his house is the size of a football field. But he has a job, a truck he paid for himself, and I doubt he shops anywhere fancier than the local mall. This place is so far out of my comfort zone I can feel myself about to break out into hives.
“I’ve never been here before,” I say honestly.
He grins meekly. “Yeah, I don’t come here much myself. But the food is good and Mario, the owner, comes into the shop to get his oil changed. He’s always telling me to come sometime, so I gave him a call and he got us in.”
I feel myself relax just a little.
“That’s cool.”
“Yeah. I have all the best hookups,” he says with a sarcastic laugh.
“Lucky you.”
I pick up the menu, trying not to frown at the prices. The waiter makes his way over and we order.
“So,” I fold my hands under my chin, elbows on the table. “What are your big plans for after High School?”
He takes a drink of water before answering. “College. I have scholarship offers from a few places. I’m leaning towards William & Mary.”
I tilt my head. “You want to stay that close?”
He half shrugs. “I don’t know yet. I’m keeping my options open.”
“Always a good plan.”
“What about you?”
I lean back. “I want to take a gap year. Travel, do some charity work. Then I’m off to NYU. I want to major in Anthropology and minor in Ancient Civilizations.”
“So, you want to be Tomb Raider?”
I laugh, nearly choking on my water.
“More like Indiana Jones. Less guns, more whips.”
“I think you would look great with a whip.”
I tilt my glass. “Why thank you.”
At that moment I see someone moving toward me out the corner of my eye. It’s Logan. As soon as I see him he begins frantically motioning for me to follow him.
“Sorry, I need to use the bathroom. Be right back,” I mumble, excusing myself from the table.
As soon as I’m out of earshot I mutter at Logan under my breath.