Page 54 of Love is an Open Book
I tear my eyes away and find Riley watching me. “You two never...” She trails off, but there’s a question there, and I shake my head so forcefully that my sunglasses slip.
“Never. It’s not like that with Mia.”
“Okay,” she says. “But is it like that with you?”
Lately? More than ever. “Mia doesn’t date friends.”
“No one goes out looking to date their friends, Gav.” Riley is the only one who calls me that, just to get under my skin. “From what I remember about your and Mia’s origin story, life friend-zoned you from day one.”
“What are you, a boomer with that shit? Friend zoning is not a thing.”
“It is for you.” She smirks.
“No, it’s not. This is how things have always been between us.” I’m not about to bring up the pact we made back in college. Riley would be all over that, and I know it seems silly, but for years it felt like the foundation of our friendship. I’m worried removing it will topple everything.
“You and I are friends, but you’ve never pried your sweaty gloves off your own hands to save me from blisters.” Her voice is low, but I dart a glance toward the truck, in case they heard, but they’re off-loading mulch, Morris’s steel-toed boots making a racket on the truck bed. “That’s like the landscaping equivalent of a penguin giving their mate a pebble,” she says.
“You’ve lost me.” I’m guessing it’s something she learned from all the nature documentaries she watches. She loves to rattle off random facts. Morris doesn’t mind because she nails all the nature questions at trivia nights.
“Probably because you haven’t been able to tear your eyes off her all day,” she counters.
Like clockwork, my gaze swings back toward Mia. I wish I could say I was making sure she hadn’t overheard us, but the truth is Riley’s right. My gaze keeps finding Mia, and not just to check on her. I turn away, embarrassed Riley noticed. “I’m just worried about the heat. It’s a lot, even for us, and we’re used to it.”
“There’s no shame in crushing on a friend, dude.”
Oh, but when it comes to Mia, there absolutely is. I press my lips together. “Seriously, Riley. It’s never been like that with us.” I’ve never let my feelings get this far. Not until I faced the reality of losing her and realized this might be our only chance to explore something more.
Riley casts a thoughtful glance at the truck, and this time, when my eyes inevitably follow, Mia is looking right at me. “You sure about that?” Riley asks, and a few weeks ago, I would’ve said yes.
But now I’m not sure of much of anything.Chaos, that’s what Mia called falling in love. Uncertainty. But what this feels like is anticipation, like the thrill of shaking a birthday present. The hope that what comes next will be everything you’ve been wishing for, even if you’ve been too scared to ask.
Seventeen
Mia
“I’ve never been so exhausted in my life.” I stretch as far as the cab of Gavin’s truck will allow, trying to ease the ache in my muscles. My toes feel pulverized from the stiff boots and my arches are cramped. I would’ve already taken them off if I wasn’t certain my feet stink, clammy in the thick socks I wore.
Unable to summon the energy to lift my head, I roll my neck sideways to eye Gavin, fully upright and unbelievably alert in the driver’s seat. His gray T-shirt is rumpled, forearms streaked with dirt, but he looks unaffected by the day. Like he could go home and casually build a pergola, which is literally his plan for the evening.
“How do you do this day after day?” My words come out as a pathetic croak, and he darts a quick glance toward me. He returns his eyes to the road, but at the next stop sign, he hands me my insulated tumbler from the cupholder without the slightest wobble of his grip.
I, however, have to cradle the bottle to my chest with my forearm, not trusting my raw hands to hold on.
Watching me fumble with the straw, he asks, “Is it that bad?” His voice is gruff, and embarrassment swells over me.
Defensive, I hold out my hand as evidence that it is, in fact, that bad. I’ve been scared to look closely at my palms since I took off my gloves, but it must not look great, because Gavin swears under his breath.
“Shit, Mia.” He flicks on his turn signal, eyes on the rearview, and swerves over to the curb, coming to an abrupt halt. “You said your hands felt fine.”
“I didn’t want to hear ‘I told you so,’ or act like a big baby.”
“A big baby?” He gently loosens the cup from my grip, and now his hand is trembling, so maybe his muscles aren’t invincible, after all. But instead of lowering it back into the cupholder, he shifts in his seat, worn jeans sliding on the smooth leather. Gripping the straw between his fingers, he guides it to my lips.
“Drink.” One word, said in a gravelly tone I hardly recognize as belonging to my chill friend. It’s a tone that feels like fire injected into my bones, yet it roots me to the spot, unable to do anything other than open my mouth and obey.
The water is cool against my throat, soothing yet another ache, and I suck down a long gulp, releasing the straw with a gasp.
“Thank you,” I say, and this time it’s less of a croak than a whisper.
