Opposite of Always(54)

Jillian gets someone to buy us beer and we toast and drink up and the arena is one giant buzz; if you stand still long enough, you feel the hum, a tremble shuddering down your spine, rattling your feet.

But the entire show, I can’t stop looking for Kate.

I keep waiting for her to sneak up on me, tap my shoulder, throw her arms around my waist. Cover my eyes with her hands and whisper guess who. But it never happens. There are times when I see her, somewhere in the crowd, but then I look harder, or blink, and she’s gone, dissolved into the frenzy, morphed into the body of some other girl, some other girl mimicking the way Kate holds her head, copycatting the way she tilts her hips.

Hours later, Jillian pulls the car into my driveway, and I say good night to my best friends, and then I’m strolling to my front door. But I stop when I see something move. And I’m mentally preparing myself for a showdown with the next-door neighbor’s crazy-ass German shepherd, Corky. But it’s not Corky. A shadow sits on the front steps, its silhouette reaching across my front lawn. And then the shadow stands, steps just inside the white glow of streetlight, and it’s her.

“How was the concert?” she asks, sliding her hands into her jeans pockets.

And it’s her.

“What concert?” I ask, reaching out for her. I say it to be funny, but mainly because seeing her makes me forget everything that’s happened up till now.

And it’s her.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly. “I shouldn’t have—”

“No,” I say. “I’m sorry. I don’t care if we can only be friends. I mean, I do care. But if that’s what it has to be for you to stay in my life, then I’ll take it. Your friendship is like—every time, I’ll take it, Kate.”

She touches my arm, glides her fingers down to my hand. “There’s so much we need to talk about. So much I need to tell you.”

“And we will. And I’ll listen. How’d you get here?”

“I walked.”

“But that’s like forty miles,” I exclaim.

She laughs. “I took the bus, silly.”

“Just to see me?”

“There’s nothing just about seeing you, Jack.”

And I don’t know if the thumping I feel between us is her heart or mine, but I’d put big money on mine. And it feels right. Like it’s about to happen, like we’re finally going to come together—and then we hear whooping and clapping.

Also known as Franny.

Evidently, my friends are still in the driveway.

“Come on, guys,” I say. “A little privacy.”

Jillian pokes her head out the window, making kissing noises.

“Jackieeeeeeeee,” Franny’s yelling. “The kid’s back!”

“The boy’s so smooth, y’all,” Jillian sings.

“You’re going to wake up my parents,” I say, waving them off.

But try as I may, I can’t help but smile.

I’d forgotten my face knew how to.

We’re sitting in my car, parked in the lot outside Kate’s dorm, the engine running although Kate normally hates that, emissions and fumes poking holes into the ozone—but it’s a brutally cold late-spring night, so she makes an exception.

She looks as amazing as always, sporting a new haircut. It’s funny because I thought her previously very long hair was perfect for her face, but now that she’s cut it, I realize she just looks perfect. Dad jokes that Mom could wear sackcloth and still be radiant. Maybe that’s what this is—me caught in Kate’s glow. And I’m good with that. Caught is cool.

“What,” she says.

“What what,” I say back.

She laughs. Touches her nose. “Do I have something on my face?”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because you’re staring and you haven’t blinked in like eight minutes.”

“I guess I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

About you. About whatever forces brought us together. Just kiss her already, Jack, I think to myself. “I don’t know. This and that.”

“Must be far more interesting than what I have to say.”

I sit up in my car seat. “No way! Why would you say that?”

“Because I asked you a question just now and you didn’t even notice.”

I was too busy trying to figure out how to make my long-awaited, highly anticipated go on and kiss the girl move. “I’m sorry, Kate. What did you ask me?”

Her laughter vanishes and she frowns. Which sucks because I hate the idea that she’s sad because of me. “Never mind. Just forget it.” And the next thing I know she’s jumping out of the car and heading toward her dorm building.

I hop out of the car after her. “What’s happening here?”

She pauses on the sidewalk, her back to me. And it feels like something important is happening here, something of magnitude, the air charged between us.

Kate whirls around. “You’re a giant douchebag sometimes, Jack, that’s what’s happening.”

I jam my hands into my pockets. “I feel like we’ve had this conversation before.”

“Nope. I would’ve remembered feeling like you were a douche and then calling you one.”