Anything but Ordinary(33)

Looking nice was important today. Looking put-together, like a person who could do five reps on the rowing machine without having to sit down in the shower afterward. Like a person who would accept that the past was the past, and that her boyfriend was no longer her boyfriend.

A few days ago, Gabby had called. “The three of us should go bowling,” she had said. “I need a break from fussing about the wedding.”

“Are you sure?” Bryce had gulped as she stood by the pool in her pajamas. She was always in her pajamas these days, it seemed.

“Of course! We should have done this as soon as you woke up. It’ll be just like old times.”

Now she thought about calling Gabby and telling her she wasn’t feeling well. How could she stand watching Gabby and Greg together? How could she face her friend when she could still feel the touch of his lips on hers? She had told him they should just be friends. But he would never feel like just a friend to her.

Bryce sighed. She had avoided Gabby long enough. So she rubbed some concealer on the sleepless bags under her eyes. She almost dropped the bottle, bobbling it in her hands, when she heard a knock at the front door.

Bryce yanked her skirt down a few inches and emerged from the hall bathroom. A tall figure stood at the open door. Carter was in his usual khakis and a short-sleeved collared shirt made out of airy white fabric, accepting a glass of water from her mother.

“Look who’s here, baby!”

“Hey,” Bryce said, the knot in her stomach dissolving.

“Hey,” Carter echoed, taking a sip of water.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” Bryce’s mother called over her shoulder, heading to the kitchen.

“Just came over to say hi,” Carter called, before adding more quietly to Bryce, “and to check on you, spaz-o.”

“I’m fine,” Bryce said, rolling her eyes. “You know I’m fine.”

Bryce’s mother breezed into the entryway, bearing a bowl of cold, lime-green gazpacho that probably looked better than it tasted. She handed it to Carter with a spoon. “Try this,” she said. “So, do you need Bryce to come in for another scan?”

“Dr. Warren probably does need her, yes,” Carter said, swallowing a spoonful.

Bryce shot him a death stare.

Carter mouthed sorry and cleared his throat, looking at her mother. “Is there lemon zest in here?”

Just then, the Grahams’ door creaked open once again, peppered with knocks from Gabby’s manicured hand. She popped in wearing a yellow halter dress and white espadrilles, her hair twirled into a messy bun.

“Helloooo…” she called, the door clicking shut behind her.

While Gabby and her mother exchanged tight hugs and compliments, Bryce moved behind Carter. Her mother hadn’t seen Greg or Gabby since Christmas break two years ago, Bryce had gathered. Gabby was the one who had taken that picture of her family with the wreath outside of Vanderbilt Medical. Had Greg and Gabby already been dating when Gabby took that photo? Probably. Bryce dug her teeth into her lip and smoothed her hair, bracing herself for Greg’s entrance.

But the door stayed resolutely shut. Bryce felt a mixture of disappointment and relief. She cleared her throat. “Greg’s not coming?” she dropped casually.

“Oh, no, he’s here,” Gabby replied with a wave of her hand. “He’s just waiting in the car.”

Carter was now balancing the bowl on the palm of his hand, untouched after the first sip. Gabby smiled deviously. “And this is Carter, right?”

“Yeah…” Bryce began.

“Carter,” Gabby said, giving his shoulders a squeeze. “Come with us!”

“Nah…” Bryce said, answering for him.

“Yes!” Bryce’s mother clapped her hands. She looked visibly relieved at the suggestion.

Carter looked at Bryce. She shook her head subtly. “Don’t you have homework to do?”

“I always have homework,” Carter said with a shrug.

“Let’s go, you two,” Gabby grabbed each of them by the hand, dragging them out the door. “See you later, Mrs. Graham!” she called.

Bryce allowed herself to be drawn toward the car, where Greg was sitting sullenly with the door open, wearing a white Hanes T-shirt and his old, worn Adidas flip-flops. At the sight of Bryce, his face lifted into a broad smile. He gave a short wave. Then he noticed Carter, and his eyes narrowed.

“Double date!” Gabby called, slipping into the driver’s seat.

Carter and Bryce exchanged looks as they settled into the backseat. “Carter is a friend of mine from the hospital,” Bryce clarified. Greg’s eyes lingered on hers in the rearview mirror, asking the silent question he had no right to ask.



Technically, the VFW was a community center for veterans of foreign wars. It was also the cheapest place to go bowling in Nashville. And, as many of the kids at Hilwood knew, the best place to drink when you were underage. The grizzled Vietnam vet who ran the bar didn’t ID anyone who looked older than thirteen, as long as they listened to him talk about his time stationed in Saigon. The classic rock blared. Bowling balls crashed down the lanes launched by pot-bellied bowlers. Large fans on either side of the room hummed.

As the bartender filled a pitcher full of foamy beer, humming “We Are the Champions” along to the tinny speakers, Greg brought over old bowling shoes.