Page 67 of The Summer I First Saw You
“All of it,” he says.
I stare at him. “Dude, all this stuff will cost a hundred grand. If you want to spend that kind of money, you should probably call a designer and—”
“Please just order it,” he says. “I don’t care about the money. I just want it done as soon as possible. This is all shit Audrey picked out anyway. I don’t need the reminder.”
The euphoria of a moment before drains away. He doesn’t need the reminder of Audrey, which means her absence still bothers him. And I’m only here as a bridge between Audrey and whoever comes after me, a woman who’ll be older and smarter and more sophisticated. I am simply the rebound fuck, a pleasant memory he’ll one day shake his head at…somewhat appalled by his decision-making once he’s come through the other side.
If I’d gone out with Jon, it would have been smooth, like riding a wave into shore. I might have vaguely enjoyed it, but I’d have had no regret when it was time to jump off and call it a day. With Harrison, though, I’m at the top of a wave that’s beyond my skill level. I know the crash is coming and that itwill be ugly. But I’m already inside it and there’s no turning back.
“She’s gone dark again,” he says softly. “What are you thinking about?”
I’m thinking this is a fling for you, but it isn’t for me.
I’m thinking this is going to ruin me when it ends.
“Reverse cowgirl,” I reply. “I’ve never done it, but it looks fun.”
He studies me for a long moment—I worry he’s not going to let me distract him—and I’m relieved when he finally pulls me close. “I guess the furniture can wait.”
Yes, it can.
Everything can wait. I’m already inside the wave, and it’s too fucking late. I might as well enjoy the ride.
The next morning,I follow him downstairs, dressed to surf but unwilling to leave before he does. Something’s been bothering him since last night and the uncertainty makes me want to cling, a deeply unattractive quality. I’m trying hard not to let it show.
“When do you go back to school?” he asks as he makes his coffee for the ride to work.
Why is he asking? If he wanted to get rid of me, he couldn’t now. Maybe he’s just waiting for me to leave.
“I’m not sure,” I reply. He stiffens, as if he senses the lie. “I’ve got to figure it out. I don’t think my car is going to survive the trip back. Why?”
He’s silent just a second too long before he meets my eye. “You barely talk about school. I’m wondering if there’s more to the Lazy Daisy nickname than I realized. Or if there’s just shit you’re not telling me.”
It’s in his expression and tone more than it is his words: aslight irritation with me that he’s trying—and failing—to repress, which is exactly how Christian was at the end. He started picking fights and it was only in hindsight that I realized the problem wasn’t that I’d done something wrong or that I’d begun to fail, but simply that he was tired of me.
Is that what’s happening now?
Or maybe it’s that I’m lying to Harrison. I’m lying to everyone.
“Why would I talk about school?” I reply. I sweep my foot out and let my toes curve around his belt to pull him my way. “We have so many better things to do.”
His hand wraps around my ankle, gentle but firm, and he removes my foot.
“It would be nice,” he says as he grabs the travel mug and his keys, “if you’d stop trying to distract me with sex when you don’t want to answer a question.”
He walks out, and my stomach drops. Is this how it begins—with some vague displeasure and fault-finding on his end…and then suddenly I’m dumped?
He thinks he wants the truth, but if I told him, he’d run as fast as he fucking could.
I still haven’t decided what to do when he texts to say he’s not coming home tonight.A client thing, he says, without explaining why a client thing would require him to be gone until morning.
Maybe it’s nothing, or maybe the end is already here.
At least I’m not pregnant this time around.
35
HARRISON
