Page 62 of The Comeback Summer

Again, that twinge of something that is not jealousy.

“You look nice,” I say, smiling up at him. Friends can compliment each other, right?

“You, too,” he says, grinning down at me. He hasn’t shaved in a few days, and the scruff looks unfairly good on him, all masculine and rough. “You wore a dress like that to our spring fling junior year, right?”

I blink, surprised he remembers. But before I can answer, a truck whooshes by on the road, sending a puddle splashing all over us.

The cold water hits me like a sheet of ice, and I shriek. I was wet before, but now I’msoaked; when I look down, my bra is visible through my dress. Even worse, my dress is splotched with mud.

“Jerk,” Josh mutters, his eyes following the truck. His beautiful suit and white shirt are sopping wet and dirty; he even has flecks of mud on his cheek.

Panicky thoughts fill my mind; I can’t show up to my date looking like this, but there’s not enough time to go home, shower, and change. “Shit, shit,shit. I don’t know what to do.”

Josh’s eyes light up.

“What?” I say.

“Come on.” He grabs my hand and tugs me toward the lobby doors of the hotel.

“What are you doing?” I ask, confused.

“I have an idea, just trust me,” he says, not looking back.

Usually I would, because this is Josh, and this is what Josh does, what he’s always done, pulling me along in his wake. But something rears up inside me and I stop, yanking my hand out of his.

He looks back at me, confused. “What’s wrong?”

“Tell me your idea,” I say. “You always do this—expect me to go along with you. Like when you planned that run, or when you bought those Ferris wheel tickets. But I don’t like surprises, Josh. Communicate with me. Explain what you’re thinking.”

I never would’ve said anything like this back when we were dating. Maybe not even a few weeks ago. But all this comfort-zone journaling has made me realize how often I stay quiet in order to keep the peace.

Josh’s dark eyebrows pull together in a frown. He’s silent for so long that I begin to get nervous; did I upset him?

“You’re right,” he says finally, surprising me. “That’s a bad habit of mine and I’m sorry.”

“It-it’s okay,” I stammer.

“I’m not trying to steamroll you—it’s more that my brain is racing ahead, and I have trouble slowing down to explain myself. But that’s not fair to you.” He pauses, thinking. “Here’s my idea: if the hotel has laundry services and an open room, maybe we can clean up here. Let’s see if they can launder our clothes, and we’ll each take a shower. We might be a little late for our dates, but it’ll be faster than us going home and changing.”

“There’s no way they’ll be able to launder our clothes that quickly,” I say.

“Just... will you let me ask?”

I sigh. “Okay.”

•••

JOSH IS ABLEto sweet-talk the concierge into giving him everything he wants. Why yes, they do have a room we can use to clean up in. Yes, they do have laundry services on-site, and yes, of course they’ll rush it for Josh with his dimple and sparkling blue eyes.

I wonder if this is what life is like for Josh, easy-breezy, getting whatever he asks for with a wink and a smile. I have to admit, it’s convenient.

Josh’s date starts before mine, so he gets cleaned up first. I’m sitting on the bed in a hotel robe, trying not to think about him showering just a few feet away. To distract myself, I text Libby to see if she can message Danny on the app to let him know I might be late.

“Banana?” Josh’s voice echoes from the bathroom.

“Yeah?” I ask, looking up from the phone.

“Can you bring me that shampoo?”

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