Shuffle, Repeat(28)

? ? ?

Itch and I are sitting on the swings at Cherry Hill Park, not far from my house. I asked if he would drive me home and he said yes, even though things have been a little tense since the weekend. We were quiet the whole way here. I was thinking about how to say it, and about what it would mean, and even about what I wanted it to mean. I kept going back to the thing Oliver had said, how things are supposed to be. How do I want things to be with Itch?

It sleeted this afternoon and now everything is gray and dank. The seat of the swing was spotted with water when I sat on it, but I already felt so damp that I didn’t care. Now I’m regretting that decision as the temperature drops even more and I’m shivery everywhere.

“So what’s up?” Itch says.

A nervous knot gathers in the pit of my stomach. Earlier, I thought of several ways to broach the topic but now I’ve forgotten all of them. “I have to tell you something.”

“Go ahead.” His voice is more even than usual.

I twist the swing to face him. “Remember how you said we should be open to dating other people this summer?”

“Yes.”

I suddenly have an attack of the nerves so strong that I have to jerk out of my swing and stand up. I squeeze my thumbs inside my mittens, take a deep breath, and spit it out: “I kissed someone.”

I wait. Itch digs his toes into the pebbles to bring his swing to stillness. He gazes up at me for a moment, a long moment during which I try to understand his expression, but I can’t find anything in it. No anger or sadness or jealousy. Either I don’t know how to read him, or those emotions really aren’t there. I can’t tell.

And then Itch’s mouth tilts up into his lopsided grin. “Is that all?” I nod and he gets to his feet. He sets his hands on my shoulders. “Me too, June. It’s okay.”

I freeze—what?—before pulling back. I’m not jealous but I’m…I don’t know what I am. I’m surprised. I’m something. “Who was she?”

A line deepens between Itch’s eyebrows. “Just a couple Florida girls.”

“A couple?”

“Maybe three. None of them meant anything.”

“Did you have sex?” I ask, and he shakes his head violently.

“Not even close,” he says. “I’m telling you, it was nothing.”

And I have to believe him. I have to understand, because that’s what it felt like with Ethan in the 7-Eleven parking lot. It felt like nothing, like it could have been anyone’s mouth and anyone’s hands. It was a time killer. A space filler. It wasn’t fair and I’m not proud…but that’s what it was.

Itch reaches out to me again, and this time I let him pull me in, let him wrap his arms around me and stroke my hair. “We weren’t together,” he murmurs in my ear. “Now we are. It’s all good.”

I nod against him, relieved.

And—somehow—also disappointed.

? ? ?

Oliver doesn’t even turn on the playlist when I climb into the car. He just pulls out into the street before flipping a look at me. “Did you do it?”

“Yes.”

“You told him?”

“Yes.”

Silence for at least a full minute. I know Oliver is waiting for me to talk, but there’s really nothing to say. Finally, he can’t take it anymore. “How’d it go?”

“Fine.” I scrunch down in my seat and stare out the window. “It went fine.”





Itch must have conned his way out of second period a few minutes early, because he’s already waiting in the hallway when I exit environmental sciences. “My parents are going out of town this weekend,” he says.

“For Thanksgiving?”

“No, right after. On Friday. Can you tell your mom you’re staying at Lily’s?”

I’m about to answer when an overgrown Saint Bernard bounds down the hallway and nearly barrels over us. It’s Oliver, wearing an apron and carrying a bowl. “It worked! It didn’t collapse!” He whips out a spoon and scoops a soft pile of brown onto it. “Chocolate soufflé. Here!”

I am hyperaware of Itch standing silently by my side, but I open my mouth so Oliver can feed me the bite and…

Sweet silky heaven.

“Wow,” I say after I’ve swallowed. “That’s incredible.”

“I know, right?” Oliver turns to Itch—“Want a bite?”—but Itch shakes his head.

Oliver doesn’t appear to be bothered. His eyes focus on someone down the hall behind us and he calls out, “Lisa, Yana! Wait up!” He bounds away, waving his spoon.

“You’re still wearing your apron!” I shout after him, but he doesn’t hear me. That’s Oliver in a nutshell. Exuberant and passionate and generous.

“Hey.” Itch nudges me and I suddenly realize I have a goofy smile across my face. I wipe it away. “So can you tell your mom you’re sleeping at Lily’s?”

“Maybe,” I say, my eyes still on Oliver.

? ? ?

Itch has to buy some things, so I let him take me to the mall after school. First we get smoothies, and then I end up holding his cup while he browses JCPenney’s selection of boxers. I watch him, wondering when our relationship devolved to the point of purchasing undergarments together. Maybe it would be all right if I chose for him, if we were being sexy or romantic or if it was a joke or maybe if he was getting the kind stamped with little hearts or…or…