Page 49 of Wallflower
As theGilmore Girlsintro sequence plays and I take the first bite of a meal good enough to make me moan, something like contentment settles over me like a second skin.
I know the real world is out there—my dad, my job, my boss, my loneliness, my lost potential—but I don’t feel the weight of it right now. And it’s all because of Chord.
He thinks about me. He thinks I’m sexy. He erased Courtney from my life, bought me pool floats and slow danced with me in my room, teased out my secrets when no one else could, answered my drunk call for help in the middle of the night, then left me adorable notes and voice messages and ordered me food.
These last few weeks have felt more real to me than my real life. This life has felt more likemine.
I pick up my phone and send him a short text, hoping that he senses how big these two little words are to me right now.
Me
Thank you.
My phone vibrates straightaway with his brief reply.
Chord
You’re welcome.
Safe. That’s the word. I feelsafe. And I can’t believe that of all the people in the world, Chord is the one to make me feel that way.
twenty-two
Chord
67 DAYS TILL HOCKEY SEASON
Izzy’s game night ismore like a game marathon. It kicks off at two p.m. and doesn’t finish until well after dark and the little hostess has been asleep for a full twenty minutes.
We tried to wrap it up twice already—once as soon as her eyes started to drift closed, and again when she’d been out for thirty seconds. Both times, she shot upright like she’d been poked with a blunt stick and demanded another round of cards or charades or Monopoly. And we complied every time. Even Daisy, who looks like she’d rather have her head in a toilet.
I’m not the only one this little girl has wrapped around her finger.
We’re in the living room in the main house—the house we all grew up in, and the house that Charlie, Dylan, and Izzy live in now. And Daisy, I suppose, though I’m not sure how long she plans to stay.
Not much about this place has changed in the last twenty years. The polished oak furniture has been wearing divots inthe carpet since before I was born, and the gray wool is clean but old. Mom’s first-edition books, vintage teacups, and family photographs are still on the shelves. Dad’s armchair still sits empty.
When I walked in here today for the first time in years, Charlie, Finn, Dylan, and Daisy were already sprawled out in the spots they’d claimed twenty-plus years ago, and it was like I’d stepped out of a time machine. Forgotten memories and old grief sapped the oxygen from the room before a wistful warmth burst inside my chest, carrying with it a simple one-word thought.Home.
That was hours ago, and it’s been dark outside for an hour by the time Dylan scoops Izzy off the sofa. Her tiny frame is lost in a cloud of lime green tulle, her feet are stuffed into a pair of fluffy white bunny slippers, and her long, dark plait dangles over the curve of Dylan’s forearm.
“Do you need a hand?” I ask as I leave my seat on the rug and get to my feet.
“Nah. We’re fine. I’ll take her to bed and come back to help you guys clean up.”
“I’ve got it.” Charlie leaps from her place at the end of the sofa, then collects a half-empty bowl of popcorn in one hand and a couple of empty tumblers in the other. “You have an early start at the restaurant tomorrow. Take care of Izzy, then head to bed yourself.”
Dylan looks around the room. “Are you sure?”
He’s got to be thinking the same thing I am. It looks like a glitter bomb has gone off in here. Izzy—with Finn as her accomplice—decorated the place with balloons, streamers, and confetti in six shades of pink. Tidying up will take forever.
“I’m sure.” Charlie waves him off and rounds the sofa, nudging a dozing Daisy as she passes. “Daze will help me.”
Dylan snorts as he disappears up the stairs, and Daisy rolls over, turns her back to the room, and makes a whining sound. She’s so freaking hungover. It’s hilarious.
“Dazeis in too much pain to do anything,” she moans, wriggling around like she can’t get comfortable, then reaching behind her to switch off the lamp on the side table. “There.” She curls in on herself with a satisfied smile. “That’s better.”
Charlie rolls her eyes. “Finn?”
