The Romantics(29)

The girls carefully threw their ruined waffles into the trash, then Cara poured new waffles for both of them and topped Sammy’s with an appropriate amount of chips. She closed the lids, and the smell of melting chocolate filled the air. “I’m Cara, by the way,” she said.

“Sammy.” She reached out her hand. “And thank you so much for your help.”

“No problem. Are you here with anyone?” Cara asked. “I feel like after surviving a chocolate debacle the least we could do is eat our waffles together. I woke up super early today, so none of my friends are here.”

Sammy smiled. “You’re on.”

They grabbed seats at a two-person table and proceeded to chat about everything from waffles to the tininess of their dorm rooms to the idiocy of the teacher’s assistant in Sammy’s French philosophy class. The two bonded brilliantly, as I knew they would.

As Sammy cut apart the last bit of her waffle, she got an idea. (Yes, there may have been some nudging from yours truly.)

“This is kind of random,” she said. “But I actually have a Groupon for two tickets to the zoo in Asheboro tomorrow, and my roommate bailed. Any chance you want to go?”

Cara laughed out loud. “That is random.”

Sammy topped off her last bite with extra syrup. “I know, but animals are fun, right?”

Cara smiled. “Totally. You’re on.”

And just like that my plan was back on track.





meanwhile, on the other side of town


“How does your apartment have, like, no service?” Gael asked as he stormed out of the sad bedroom in his dad’s apartment and slammed the door behind him.

In the tiny apartment kitchen, Gael’s dad stirred eggs and fried bacon while Piper cut the tops off strawberries. They were wearing matching aprons that Gael’s mom had gotten the whole family a couple of Christmases ago. Piper’s said “Good Egg” and his dad’s said “Bad Egg.”

“It works fine in the living room,” his dad said, as he turned over a piece of bacon with tongs.

“I would like at least a little privacy,” Gael said bitterly.

“It works fine in my room, too,” his dad offered.

The thought of making his phone call where his dad ostensibly spent time talking to that girl made Gael sick to his stomach. “I want to talk in my own room,” he said angrily.

Piper stopped cutting fruit long enough to cross her arms and purse her lips. “Maybe you shouldn’t be, like, addicted to your phone? Mom says you spend way too much time with your gadgets.”

“Well, Mom’s not here, is she?” Gael snapped.

His dad put his tongs down and stared at him. “You don’t have to say it like that. We’re all trying the best we can.”

Gael just rolled his eyes. “The bacon’s burning,” he said, as the smell of smoke filled the air. He headed to the couch while his dad flipped on the fan and Piper ran around the kitchen, whipping a towel around in an attempt to diffuse the smoke.

Ever since Gael was old enough to look after Piper, their family’s Saturday morning tradition had been for his dad to go for a long run, while his mom went to yoga class. Around 11:00 they’d gather back at home for brunch.

Which had all been good and fine before they split. Now his dad’s attempts to make it just like it always was just felt pathetic, and like he was obviously trying to make up for something. Even the smell of bacon, previously Gael’s favorite food, had come to bother him.

Gael sat down and tapped at Cara’s contact on his phone. As the phone rang, he stared at the chipped paint on the wall near the ceiling. The all-white walls of this place were nothing like his house, with colors his mom had picked out and warm polished wood furniture and their fancy chemical-free laundry detergent smelling simultaneously of lavender and home.

In comparison, his dad’s apartment was bright and dingy, and the balcony that shot out from the living room was a sad excuse for a yard. Not to mention said balcony didn’t have cell service, either.

“Hello,” Cara answered, as the apartment’s smoke detector went off.

“Hey,” Gael said. “Sorry. Can you make that stop?” he yelled at his dad.

“Burning the house down,” Cara said. “I know it was a good victory last night, but there’s really no need to riot.”

He laughed nervously, as his dad and Piper got the alarm to stop.

“I was wondering if you wanted to hang out tonight,” he asked, his heart racing as he said it.

She paused, and took a deep breath. “I can’t.”

Gael decided right then and there that she hated him, that November was a stupid excuse, and their whole relationship was useless, and—

“But maybe if you want to hang out tomorrow. I’m randomly going to the zoo in Asheboro with a friend, and she said I could bring people if I wanted.”

“The zoo?” Gael asked. “Really?”

Piper ran out of the kitchen and was in front of him in seconds.

“The zoo? The zoo? I want to go to the zoo. Take me with you, please please please.”

“Chill,” Gael said.

“What’s that?” Cara asked.

Gael turned away from Piper, as if that might afford him a little privacy.