Page 85 of The Friend Scheme
Me too. Let’s just do it. Whenever and wherever you want me, I’m there.
Jason is waiting for me by the entrance of the fair. He’s standing in the middle of the walkway, with his hands in his pockets. He’s wearing a gray T-shirt, and chinos.
Very cute.
“Hey,” he says, as we hug. There are so many people around, but it feels a little like we’re the only two here. That this whole place belongs to us. He rocks me back and forth, and it makes me feel unstoppable.
I look out at the ocean. The sun is starting to set.
“Wanna check this place out?” he asks.
I nod, so we start walking down the main strip. We walk fairly close to each other, so it’s obvious we’re together. Not together-together. Just a pair. I don’t know how I’ll be able to explain this if anyone I know sees us.
Now that I’m here, this feels like a catastrophic mistake.
But whatever.
“What do you want to do?” he asks. “Maybe we could go on the Ferris wheel? Or are you hungry?”
I shake my head. “Honestly, I just want to talk. Can we find somewhere quiet?”
That might be hard. It’s crowded. Maybe I didn’t think this through enough.
We walk to the very end of the fairground and don’t spot anywhere quiet. Seriously. It’s like almost everyone in the city has shown up tonight.
“Sorry,” I say. “I should’ve thought more. I think we should talk. If we’re going to stay friends, we should make some ground rules.”
“Agreed.”
We eventually find an empty bench at the far left of the fairground. It gives us a great view of the whole place. I love how the lights look against the pink sky. I can hear the rattling of the Wild Mouse coaster and carousel music, and can smell cotton candy. I look across, out at the ocean, in the distance. The sun is just setting.
It’s magic hour.
Perfect.
“So,” I say.
Where should I start? The scheme, the friendship, or the kiss? There’s so much I want to ask about, but I can’t decide what to begin with.
Jason’s posture is slightly hunched, and he’s staring at his hands. They’re shaking. I want to take them in mine and tell him that it’s okay, that I get it. I’m scared, too. And I’m still not sure if we’re friends, or something else, now that we’ve kissed.
This feels a little ridiculous.
I’m sitting next to a Donovan, and we’re both tongue-tied. Not because he’s my enemy, but because I care so much about saying the right thing.
“I should apologize,” he says. “For, you know, keeping the secret.”
I nod. “You don’t have to; I get it. I’m guessing your family made you do it?”
“Yeah, they did. How’d you know?”
“My dad makes me do stuff I don’t want to all the time. So I totally get it. If my dad asked me to, I would’ve done the exact same thing to you.”
“Still,” he says. “I’m sorry. They did make me, but I don’t want to deflect the blame. I’m still the one mostly responsible.” He taps his fingers on his legs. “I got into a huge fight with my parents over it, actually, I didn’t want to do it that much.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. It was terrifying. I never stand up to them.”
