Once and for All(39)

“See you,” I replied, not that either of them heard me as they started toward the loading bay, I assumed to collect Ira. I waited until they were out of sight before I walked back to the curb, where all the blossoms still lay, petals around them. I picked up one peony and a rose, then thought better and left them where they were. There’s a difference between things given and those you simply find. Julie knew it, and I did, too. I never expected anything from anyone. Which was not the same thing as not wanting, ever, to be surprised.





CHAPTER


    10





“WHICH IS which?” I asked, squinting into the dark pan.

“Does it matter? Just dig in.”

I looked at Ethan as he poked his own fork into what I thought was the slice of blueberry crumble, scooping out a huge bite. “You can’t just jam them all together and make some hybrid. We got six flavors. Each needs to be tasted individually.”

“Lulu,” he said. “It’s one thirty in the morning and we’re sitting in the dark. Just eat.”

I had a nickname now, something else I’d never experienced before. The numbers in that category just kept growing. And yet, I was clearly the same Louna, compelled to add, “That man clearly takes his pies seriously. The way he advised us you would have thought we were buying a car. Or life insurance.”

“But we weren’t. Here.” The next thing I knew, his fork was up against my lips, and I smelled custard. “This one’s some kind of fruity mush. It’s good.”

I took the bite, messily. “That’s the lemon-orange crumb.”

This I remembered specifically, because it had sounded so good. Once inside the coffee shop, we discovered the owner, a guy in an EAT SLEEP FISH baseball hat, was closing up. At the register, a dark-haired boy and his girlfriend, clearly regulars, were getting one last hit of caffeine to go.

“Anywhere else close by to eat at this hour?” Ethan asked them as they paid up.

The girl, wearing shorts and a T-shirt that said CLEMENTINE’S, looked at the boy. “World of Waffles, but it’s not exactly walking distance. Or there’s the Wheelhouse.”

“No,” the guy said flatly. “The coffee there tastes like burnt towels.”

“There’s a twenty-four-hour café at the Big Club,” she suggested. “Lousy coffee, but great people-watching.”

“Auden,” the guy said. “Are you trying to give terrible suggestions?”

“At least I’m suggesting,” she replied. To us she said, “Look, this place is as good as it gets even in daylight hours. Your best bet is to take some pie and drinks to go.”

“Please do,” said the guy behind the counter. “I’ll even give you a deal. Pie is never as good the second day.”

Choosing had taken time with so many selections, all looking delicious, and the owner walking us through the particulars of each. In the end, we’d left with two large coffees, a pie pan filled with one of just about everything, and two forks. The slices looked gorgeous in the case. In the dark, though, it was all about the taste.

“Oh, man.” Ethan sat back, whistling between his teeth, then pointed at the pan. “This one, on the right, is IT. Chocolate and crunchy. And maybe orange?”

I reached across him with my own utensil, taking some. “Pot de crème and mandarin. He said that one was his favorite.”

Ethan helped himself to another huge forkful. As he moved it toward his mouth, a mandarin slipped off, landing on my arm with a splat. “Whoops. Sorry.”

“Look at you,” I said, as he picked it up, still chewing. There was a spot of chocolate on his nose. “You’re a mess.”

“Try to catch this,” he said, rearing back with the segment. I opened my mouth. He threw it, going wide, and hit my ear. “Bad throw. Sorry.”

“Give me that,” I said, taking the pie plate. I dug out another mandarin, pinching it between my fingers, and he set down his fork, readying himself, mouth open. I started laughing even before I launched it, sending it sailing over his head.

He turned, watching it hit the sand. “Well, if you were aiming for the water, I’d call that close.”

“I was,” I said, and then he smiled at me and reached out, pulling me in for a kiss. He tasted like chocolate, and as a breeze blew over us, swirling up sand, I closed my eyes tightly, thinking no, now I wanted to stay in this moment, forever.

This was weird, I knew, as I’d only met him a few hours ago. But with our walk, the dance, all the talking, and now pie, Ethan was already familiar in his quirks and tells. The way he squinted, tightly, before saying something he felt strongly. The slow lope of his big, tall guy walk. The feeling of his class ring, cold and smooth, against my fingers when he took my hand. The trill of his ringtone, a pop song so unexpected that the first time I’d heard it, I’d had to laugh.

We’d been sitting in the sand, sharing pictures on our phones. I showed him Jilly, my mom and William, and the one picture of myself I actually liked, which had been taken under a gazebo at a wedding the previous spring. In turn, I got to see him with the guys he’d been friends with since preschool, posing shirtless, all of their hair wet and cowlicked, by a backyard swimming pool. I’d just been leaning in closer to examine a shot of him on the soccer field when the phone rang, the tone a clip of a girl singing over a bouncy, fizzy beat.