Page 87 of Hail Marry
“Why’s that?” It makes no sense to me. Luca’s everything a best friend should be. Caring, loyal, reliable.
“I don’t really like getting close to people.”
My stomach tightens. “Why?”
“People don’t stick around. My mom. My grandpa and grandma.” He looks up at me, his gaze clear. “You.”
My heart beats like I just ran back-to-back forty-yard dashes with him, but I force a laugh. “I’m right here, Luca. You’re stuck with me, remember?”
“For a while, yeah. Until the divorce. Which is fine,” he hurries to say when I open my mouth. “I’m not trying to change the plan.”
I swallow, trying to keep things light despite the way my stomach squirms. “We can still be friends after.”
He looks at me, and even though he says nothing, the message is pretty clear: he doesn’t believe me. Or maybe he doesn’t want to be friends. Maybe he wants a clean break after all the drama.
My phone buzzes, and my mom’s name and picture pop onto the screen. I hesitate.
“Go ahead,” he says. “You should take it.”
I look at him for a second, then nod and get up to answer.
My mom’s calling to let me know they’re all coming for the game on Saturday. I reassure her they’ll have tickets, and she lets me know how excited they are to watch Luca in action.
It’s a conversation just long enough for me to get myself together. If Luca is worried he’ll lose my friendship, I need him to know he’s wrong. Maybe that’s not a big concern to him, but if there’s any chance it is, I need to clarify.
He’s spread out on the deck couch, his head resting on his interlocked palms as he stares up at the now-dark sky.
I walk to the couch and stand over him for a few seconds. Even with how big he is, there’s a little free space next to him.
His gaze flits to me.
Nerves firing all over my body, I take a seat next to him, then stretch out, letting my head rest on his bent arm. I stare up at the sky for a few seconds. “You’re my best friend too.”
He shifts slightly. “Tori, you don’t have to?—
“I mean it. You are. And maybe you don’t want to be friends with me after we get divorced, but?—”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
I press my lips together and stare at the sky like I might just be able to see Pluto if I stare hard enough. I’m too scared to look at Luca. Scared because, while I will absolutely settle for friendship with him, the reality of what I want is so much more.
I don’t know what to do with these feelings, though. This whole situation is backward. We’re the antithesis of the “Luca and Tori sittin’ in a tree” song. We’ve done everything out of order.
But tonight, I’m not going to worry about any of that. I’m just going to enjoy having a best friend for the first time in a long, long time.
The soundsof chatter from late beachgoers are long gone when my eyes flutter open. I must have dozed off.
I look over at Luca.
His body is turned toward me, his eyes closed. His chest rises and falls, slowly and evenly. His arm cradles me from underneath, but his other is wrapped around me too. Our legs are tangled.
He’s fast asleep, and I take the opportunity to admire his face—the soft, dark lashes, the thick brows, the curl draping over his forehead, the scar on his cheek, which I now know is from a dog bite when he was eight.
He’s warm and beautiful and peaceful.
And he’s asleep. Without his pregnancy pillow.
Maybe it’s just a temporary thing. Maybe he’ll wake soon, just like I did.
