Page 79 of Lucy Loves Him Not
“Either way, I shouldn’t have gone.” Mom let out a breath. “But I did rest easy knowing if something happened, Lucy would be on it.”
“Mom appreciates me.” I waved my hand in the air triumphantly.
“All we’re saying, though,” Olivia said, bringing the conversation back to its original topic, “is that maybe, just maybe, this relationship isn’t another battle to fight, but a soft place for you to land.”
On July 3, we woke up to rainy skies and soggy ground. I could hear the coffee maker whirring through the thin cabin walls. I turned in the bed to find Olivia and Gracie squeezed next to me onto one twin bed. Olivia had said she was turning in last night, but Gracie and I had followed her into the room. We stayed up ‘til 2:00 a.m. talking about our favorite show that recently dropped on Netflix, what color of curtains Olivia wanted for her new bedroom, about Gracie’s revised plans for the fall, and how Olivia and Victor really were “just good friends.”
“Basically, best friends,” she whispered as she rolled the sheets between her fingers.
“Your super-hot best friend,” Gracie said, muffled by her pillow.
“Do not remind me how hot he is.” She pulled her sheet over her head.
“Oh, trust me, I understand trying to forget someone’s hotness. You know my weakness for a man in glasses. Adam is always wearing his, reading over paperwork with that adorable, concentrated face of his or giving me his little knowing looks.” I shivered. “I was trying to remember every single thing I didn’t like about him to counteract how much I liked his stupid face.”
“Stupid face you like to kiss,” Gracie snickered.
Now, I was tiptoeing out of the bedroom into the kitchen. Mom was pouring herself a mug of coffee. I ran over and wrapped her up in a hug.
“Want a cup?” she asked. The rich smell of coffee grounds enveloped me.
I reached around her for a mug. “I don’t just want a cup; I need a cup.”
“How late were you three up?” Mom asked. She’d sensibly gone to bed by Winston.
“Until two,” I yawned.
The rain started pouring noticeably harder. We peeked out the window. She narrowed her eyes, asking, “I wonder how things are back home?”
Adam and I exchanged good night texts last night, but I hadn’t asked him about the weather. I reached into the pocket of my robe and pulled out my phone and sent him a message.
Me
Hey, you. It’s storming pretty bad over here. How is it back home?
Mom took a sip of her coffee. “Weren’t you guys building a lot of things for the festival?”
“Yeah, but I think they can all withstand the rain. The crew will have to take a break from building until it lets up, but I don’t think it’s bad enough to be worried about damage.” I scrolled through some of the group threads with the other teams when Adam’s message popped up.
Adam
It’s bad over here, too.
Me
Is the festival set up ok?
Adam
so far – ok
I was snooping around the old notes up on the fridge and found Grandma’s famous pancake recipe hanging there under a bumble bee magnet. I touched it. Her handwriting was messy and loopy and the paper was slightly yellowing.She touched this, I thought, and it was as if, for a moment, the words imprinted against my heart.
“Let’s have Grandma’s pancakes,” I said to Mom. Gracie and Olivia were rubbing their eyes as they walked into the kitchen.
Gracie limped to a chair. “That is exactly what the doctor ordered.”
Olivia poured herself and Gracie coffee, while Mom and I pulled out the ingredients.
