Saint Anything(67)

Straight-faced, he said, “Yes. Very.”

“Nice,” I told him.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” He reached over, touching my wrist, his fingers the slightest weight there. “I get what you’re saying.”

“But you think it’s crazy, drawing some deep symbolism from pizza delivery.”

“A little,” he admitted. I made a face. “But I kind of like it. Makes the job seem more noble, or important, or something.”

“I’m such a moron,” I said, yet again speaking aloud a thought I had so much, it had worn a groove in my brain.

“Nah,” he said, tightening his fingers on my wrist. “You’re not.”

For a moment, we just looked at each other. It was late afternoon in the fall, the sky the pretty pink you only see right before sunset, like the day is taking a bow. I was in a new place, with someone I didn’t know that well, and yet it felt like the most natural thing in the world, another groove already worn, to lean forward as he did until we were face to face, his fingers still gripping my arm. Then Spence and Layla pulled up beside us.

We jerked back from each other, just as she lowered her window. Immediately, I felt guilty, not knowing what she’d seen. But it was Layla who said, “Hey. I’m sorry.”

Spence smiled. “You must be Mac.”

“Yep.”

Silence. Except for my heart, which was pounding in my chest and ears. But nobody else could hear that. I hoped.

“Isn’t his car awesome? It’s just like that one you’ve had your eye on,” Layla said to Mac, a bit too eagerly. When he didn’t reply, she sighed. “Look, it’s not his fault I didn’t tell you about him. I was just worried about how Daddy would react.”

“To keeping secrets and lying?” Mac asked. “I’m guessing not well.”

“Fine,” she said, throwing up her hands. “I’ll bring him to Seaside tomorrow, okay? Will that make you happy?”

“It’s not about me,” Mac said. Then, “We should go. Mom’s waiting.”

Layla looked back at Spence, then at us. “Let me just say good-bye, okay?”

Before he could respond, they’d pulled up and parked alongside the curb in front of us. As time passed, I could only imagine what was happening behind the tinted windows. Mac, looking equally uncomfortable, picked at a loose stitch on the steering wheel. Had I really just almost kissed him? It seemed unreal now, like something I’d dreamed. Or, if not, the best secret of all.

“Well,” I said finally, “I should get home, too, I guess.”

“You want a ride?”

“Nah. It’s only a block or so.” I opened the door. “Thanks for taking me along, seriously. It was fun.”

“Anytime,” he said. I smiled, then hopped out. As I shut the door and started to walk away, I heard him say, “Hey. Sydney.”

“Yeah?”

“You had on a shirt with mushrooms on it, and your hair was pulled back. Silver earrings. Pepperoni slice. No lollipop.”

I just looked at him, confused. Layla was walking toward us now.

“The first time you came into Seaside,” he said. “You weren’t invisible, not to me. Just so you know.”

I didn’t know what to say. I just stood there as Spence drove off, beeping the horn, and Layla climbed in where I’d been sitting. “Let’s go,” she told Mac, then looked at me. “See you tomorrow?”

Mac cranked the engine, and our eyes met again. Layla was digging in her bag, already distracted, so she didn’t notice that it was to him, and really only him, that I replied. “Yeah. See you then.”





CHAPTER

15





I TRIED to stay away from Mac. I really did. But it was hard when Layla was always pushing us together.

“I just feel bad,” she said at Seaside one afternoon about a week after she’d brought Spence to meet her dad and, in doing so, made their relationship official. He wasn’t volunteering in the afternoons as much anymore—Layla claimed he’d overcommitted and decided to ease back, but I wondered if he’d just served out his hours—so I saw her only on days he had other obligations. “I never wanted to be the girl who dumps her best friend for her boyfriend.”

“You haven’t dumped me,” I said. “We’re here now, aren’t we?”

She nodded, then picked up a piece of her pizza crust, considering it for a moment before returning it to her plate. “But when I’m not, you can ride along with Mac. He said you liked doing that.”

“Layla.” I put down my pencil. “You don’t have to arrange babysitting for me. I’m fine.”

“I know, I know,” she said, putting her hands up. “I just—”

There was a beep as her phone lit up. She scanned the screen, smiling, then typed a response. Funny how just a couple of words from someone could make you so happy. But I got it, especially lately.

Since Mac had told me he remembered seeing me for the first time, something was different. Before, the thought that we might get together was a far-fetched fantasy, the most ludicrous of daydreams. But now, with Layla immersed in Spence, us hanging out more, and what had almost happened in the truck, there was a sense of inevitability about it. No longer if, just when.