Secret Lucidity(100)

I’ve continued to grow closer in my friendship with Micah while Kason still keeps me guessing where I stand with him. I don’t even know if I have any standing at all, or if he’s nothing more than the teenage daydream living in my head.

Crushes suck.

It’s the constant wondering about what could be, only to be tormented by what might never be. For now, I push those thoughts aside as I head down the stairs to say hi before he figures out on his own that this is my house and questions why I never said anything.

I slide open the large glass doors and step out onto the veranda. The movement catches his attention from across the yard, which makes him look up.

“Hey, stranger.”

He lifts his sunglasses, only to squint against the bright sun as he looks over at me. “Adaline?”

“I was upstairs, and when I looked out my window and saw you, I thought I’d come say hi.” Even though I’ve been secretly watching you all the other times you’ve been here.

He tosses the skimmer back into the water with a loud splash. “I didn’t know this was your house.”

With an uncomfortable smile, I nod as he starts to roundup his supplies. “You already done?”

“Yeah.”

This interaction is so awkward that it edges on painful.

Why is he so hard to talk to?

“You thirsty?”

“I have water in the truck.” He grabs his belongings and then looks over to me with a fleeting, “Have a good weekend,” before opening the gate.

I give up. I swear I’ve never had to struggle so much with simple conversation than what I do with him. At this point, I’m sure he sees me as nothing more than annoying. I mean, if he cared to talk to me, he’s had more than enough opportunities to do so.

My phone buzzes from my back pocket.

Micah: Got any plans for the day?

Me: None. I’m turning into a loser over here.

Micah: Come be a loser at my house.

Me: Let me throw myself together and I’ll be over.

Micah: Throw yourself together? It’s after 3:00.

Me: Again . . . loser status. I’ll head your way in a bit.

He texts me his address before I go back upstairs, take a quick shower, and get dressed. While pulling my hair back into a ponytail, my phone rings with an incoming call from my mother.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Hi, dear. I wanted to let you know that I purchased your plane ticket for spring break. I emailed the confirmation to you and your father, but I haven’t been able to get ahold of him.”

That isn’t surprising.

“Look, I’m slammed and don’t really have the time to track him down, so would you mind trying yourself?”

“Do I really have to go?” I sigh.

“Yes. You really have to go. If anything, look at it as a chance to hang out with all your old friends.”

“This borders on child abuse, you know?”

“There are worse things in life.”

“Are there?” A muffled laugh comes through on her end. “I heard that,” I accuse.

“Your dramatics are amusing.”

“I’m so glad I can be your source of entertainment.”

“Just call your father, will you?”

With a reluctant groan, I agree. “Fine. I’ll call him.”

When I end the conversation with her, I scroll through my contacts and call my dad, who I haven’t spoken to since the move two weeks ago. But it isn’t like he’s blowing my phone up to talk me, so I don’t feel bad. His voice mail picks up, and I breathe out in relief before leaving him a message to call me back. And with that taken care of, I dab on a touch of lip gloss and grab my keys.

Micah lives on Harbour Island, so it’s a quick ten-minute drive from my house in Hyde Park.

“Where are your parents?” I ask when he opens the front door.

“Anniversary trip to Connecticut,” Micah responds as I walk through the foyer and back to the living room, where I flop down next to Trent on the couch.

“What’s up, Ady?”

“Not much. What’ve you guys been doing all day?”

Micah grabs his T-shirt off the back of one of the chairs and shrugs it on. “You’re looking at it. Just been hanging out.”

“We should go do something then,” I suggest, but Trent can barely drag his eyes away from some movie that’s playing on the television. Micah, who’s now lying on a loveseat with his legs dangling over the arm, is equally distracted by whatever he’s reading on his phone. “Okay then,” I mutter to myself as I lean back into the plush cushions. “This works, too.”

“There’s pizza in the kitchen if you’re hungry,” Micah offers before his cell vibrates with a buzz.

“Dude, this movie blows. I’m gonna go out back for a smoke. Wanna come?”

Micah lifts his eyes toward Trent. “Nah, man. I’m good.”

“Ady?”

“No thanks.”

He heads to the pool out back, and I take the remote and flip through the channels when Micah’s phone buzzes yet again.

“Who are you texting?”

He doesn’t even acknowledge me as his thumbs tap against the screen at record pace.

“Micah,” I call loud enough to get a mild, “Huh?” in return.