Always Never Yours(40)

But Dad’s halfway to her by the time she says it. He quickly seizes the diaper bag and kisses her on the temple.

“Henry,” she chastises like she’s exasperated, but the blush coloring her cheeks gives her away. She meets my eyes when Dad’s walked out of the room. “He’s ridiculous sometimes,” she says, fighting a smile and losing.

“Just sometimes?” I ask, half-sarcastic, and Rose chuckles.

“Did you eat? Or can I make you something?” Rose quickly returns to mom mode.

I set Erin down in her playpen. “I’m good. But thanks,” I reply, wishing now I hadn’t already had dinner.

I head up the stairs to my room while Dad unpacks and Rose watches Erin. I plug my headphones back into my computer—Erin will be going to bed soon, and my dad’s strict about hearing music from my room after nine—but it doesn’t bother me. For a moment, I’m just happy to have everyone back home.

Until I remember why they left in the first place. I’ve always assumed I’d go to college near home, near my family. I’d pictured coming home on weekends, being there for Erin’s milestones and the new baby growing up. If they’re in New York and I’m at SOTI, none of that will happen. I’ll visit them for Christmas and summer, and that’s it. It’s not just the house I’m going to lose when they move, not just my childhood bedroom. It’s the thought of this family, however new it is, being nearby.





THIRTEEN




ROMEO: Why then, O brawling love, O loving hate,





O anything of nothing first create!


I.i.181–2


I DON’T GET THE CHANCE TO TALK to Will until Wednesday. He hasn’t met me between classes this week, which isn’t a good omen for the conversation I’m hoping to have. I couldn’t at lunch due to a forgotten Gov exam I had to study for, and when I walk into the drama room, I notice the stage crew is nowhere to be found.

Rehearsal is demoralizing. Whatever confidence I had from memorizing the monologue flies out the window when Jody criticizes my “level of enthusiasm” in Act II, Scene vi. Apparently, I didn’t sound convincing in my portrayal of a thirteen-year-old eager to marry the boy she met a week ago. So it’s not in the best of spirits that I walk down to the parking lot after school to find Will.

I round the corner and, for a moment, every one of my worries vanishes. Because there’s Will, shirtless, nailing together the pieces of a wooden staircase. Now I’m certain he’s hit the gym over the summer. My mouth goes dry, which is a good thing, because what jumps into my mind is a joke about how big of a tool he’s working with.

But when I walk over to him, I say only, “Hey.”

“Megan, hey.” He straightens up and grabs his shirt from the stairs, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “How was rehearsal?” he asks like he’s searching for something to say.

“It was fine.” I sound no less stiff. “I just, uh— I wanted to apologize for what happened Friday. I hope you know it wasn’t you.”

He looks surprised. “Oh, it’s . . . all right,” he finally says.

“Is it? Because we haven’t talked or texted since then.”

“It’s fine, really. I’ve just been busy.” He nods to the sets behind him. “Besides, it kind of seems like you have other stuff on your mind.” I can’t tell if his tone is concerned or frustrated.

“I did, but . . .” I take a breath, remembering Owen’s advice. “I figured I should probably tell you what was going on with me.”

“You don’t have to do that,” he says quickly.

“Oh.” Well, now I’m really confused. Is he trying to be considerate, or does he not care? “Yeah, it’s whatever,” I say, trying to sound like it is indeed whatever.

He nods, then smiles. “So do you want to see the balcony set I’m—” he starts, but he’s interrupted by the ding of a text from his pocket. Before I can reply, he pulls his phone out and glances at the screen. “Shit. I told Alyssa we would figure out a time when I could help her memorize lines.”

“Alyssa?” It’s on the tip of my tongue to point out that Alyssa hasn’t missed a chance to remind everyone how well she knows Romeo and Juliet. She doesn’t need help.

Will’s phone starts to ring. “Yeah. And now she’s calling me. I’m sorry, Megan.” He sounds genuinely apologetic.

“It’s cool. We’ll just talk later,” I say, but he’s already picking up the phone.

With nothing else to do, I walk toward my car. The parking lot is carpeted in pine needles. I take out my phone, weighing my options. I need a date for Anthony’s carne asada, but this conversation’s only made me more reluctant to invite Will.

I get in the car and open a message to Owen. U busy fri nite? Need platonic date 4 carne asada

I smile when Owen’s reply comes in before I’ve even turned on the car. I love carne asada. I’m in.



* * *





Owen’s waiting under the giant fir tree that towers over his house when I pull up on Friday. Instantly, I notice what he’s wearing—a dark blue button-down, slacks, and leather shoes with just the right amount of scuff.