Until We Meet Again(43)
“I don’t know what these insurmountable reasons are for you
never being able to see each other again, but A, it’s not for nine
days, so why aren’t you enjoying every last second together?
And B, since when are you the type to give up?”
“There are some things you just can’t fight, okay?”
Jade scoffs. “The Cass I know wouldn’t let anything stop her
if she’d found real love.”
Her words needle right into my heart. I squeeze back the tears.
“I have to go. My mom’s calling me.”
There’s a silence. Knowing Jade, she’s probably forming some
final, poignant line that will cut into my soul, and I just can’t
handle that right now.
“I’ll call you later,” I say, and I press the button to hang up.
But the screen doesn’t go blank. Frowning, I look down.
Another call has come through right as I ended with Jade, and
I’ve answered it. I put the phone up to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Cass.”
It’s Brandon. How perfect.
“Oh…hi, Brandon.”
“Just calling to remind you about the lacrosse game. The
other night at dinner, you said you’d come. I didn’t hear
anything from you this week, so I wanted to make you sure
you remembered.”
“Right. Um…about that—”
“It’s gonna be really awesome. My friend Sara’s going to
save you a seat right up front. Then we’re grabbing dinner at
Reed’s after.”
“It sounds great, but—”
“Then you’re coming?”
“Well…”
“I talked to your mom earlier. She’s cool with it. She said you’d
mentioned it and wanted to go. I’ll pick you up at six, okay?”
I smack my hand on my forehead and drag it wearily down my
face. This day just keeps getting better. Now Mom’s involved.
She’ll carry me out to the car herself if I show any resistance.
“Okay,” I say, trying not to show my irritation. “Guess I’ll
see you then.”
“Sweet.”
“Super sweet.”
Setting my jaw, I hang up the phone. Memo to me: Kill
Mom when this date is over.
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The lacrosse game ends up being just as dull and uncomfortable as I imagined. Sara’s a reasonably nice person, but we have nothing in common, so we sit through the entire game
with nothing but the most basic, necessary words exchanged
between us.
Dinner at Reed’s offers the first ray of sunshine in the form of a delightful cheeseburger and strawberry milk shake. My
enjoyment is tainted, however, by two things. First, the entire
conversation at dinner revolves around a heroic and detailed
play-by-play of the game I just sat through. Needless to say, I
have little to offer. The second problem is Brandon’s uncomfortable closeness. He’s practically glued to my side. I chalk it up to the tiny booths in the diner but fear that after we part
ways with Jake and Sara, the behavior will only get worse.
Further proof of this comes when Brandon drives me back
the “long way.” It’s a dark coastal road, barren of civilization.
I’m on to his scheme.
“I should get back,” I say, checking my cell phone for the time.
“It’s only eleven,” Brandon says. “Besides, I want to show you this really pretty spot. It’s just up the road.”
After winding around a few more curves, we arrive at a
sprawling pullout overlooking the ocean. The dotted lights of
mansions sprinkle across an otherwise black landscape. To the
right is the shimmer of the ocean. Fragments of the moon lie
across the water like broken glass. Brandon puts his car in park.
I turn to him, one eyebrow raised. “Really?”
“What?” He asks, a twinge of nervousness in his voice.
“Taking me to Make-Out Point, huh?”
“No! It’s a great view, that’s all.”
I roll my eyes.
“I swear!” he insists.
“Okay, well, if you took me here to enjoy the view, let’s get
out of the car. You can see better outside anyway.”
Brandon hesitates, but when I angrily fold my arms across
my chest, he throws up his hands in surrender. “Fine. We’ll get
out of the car.”
Slamming the door behind me, I march over to the stone
wall. The sight of the ocean in the distance fills me with a
flash of sharp joy, followed by familiar despair. I bet it’s a
beautiful night on the beach. What would Lawrence and I
do tonight if we were together? A walk out to the point? A
swim? Maybe a kiss? Even if we just sat together talking, it
would be perfection.
My eyes slide closed. I think of Lawrence’s lips on mine.
Why? Why does it have to be this way? Why can’t Lawrence be