“I think we can make ourselves crazy thinking about all the what-ifs.”
“Yes. Exactly. That’s exactly what I’m doing. But somehow it feels easier to stress about the future instead of really looking at the past. Like maybe I don’t want to see what was there.”
“That sucks, Zephyr,” Alec says, and I’m surprised by my laugh. “What?” His eyes brighten.
“Nothing, it’s just . . . well, you’re right; it does suck. It did suck. Everyone’s been saying they’re sorry and it’ll get better but no one’s ever called it out for what it is. Sucky.” I take a drink, trace the open top of the bottle with my finger. Marvel at how easy it is to expose my private thoughts to Alec. “And now my dad’s back and that’s sucky too.”
“Like back back?”
I shake my head. “He’s somewhere. My mom’s talking to him I guess.” I hope he doesn’t hear the way my voice cracks, falls through that sad space.
“Have you seen him?”
“No. I can’t.”
“I get that.”
His three words are so much bigger than just three words. They are a space in which I am understood by another person. No questions asked.
“I’m glad you told me.”
I’m glad too. And relieved. And relieved. Listening to Alec talk about his family is different from talking to Lizzie, whose dad was killed in Afghanistan, or to Gregg, whose parents are the definition of Happy Couple, completely devoted to their six kids and each other. Alec’s dad has been making a choice to be away from his family. Same as mine.
Empathy exchanges between us like a pact.
When we’re finished eating, Alec extends his arm and offers me an escort to the swing set. He effortlessly guides my body into a slung rubber seat and I am a wave carried on his current, surprised by the warmth his breeze of a touch sends through my body. He steadies the chains with his outstretched arms while straddling my legs. Our knees are only inches apart. If I moved the tiniest bit they’d be touching, connected. Just thinking about it sends a fear-filled bolt of electricity through me. I draw in a deep breath to steady my nerves but my senses fill with the sharp mixture of his sweat and cologne. Somewhere in the distance a toddler screeches. And then sound gets pulled into a tunnel and all I can hear are the words falling across Alec’s lips.
“Can I tell you something?” He holds the chains, his chest and arms closed around me. “Promise you won’t laugh?”
“Promise.” My nerves cause laughter to tickle across my lips.
“You promise you won’t laugh, but you laugh while you’re promising?” He shakes his head in mock disappointment but then catches my gaze, holds it. He is looking in me. Through me. He doesn’t even blink. It’s all I can do not to look away.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you after seeing you here yesterday. Wait, no, that’s a lie.” He rubs at one of the metal links with his thumb. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you after you didn’t know the answer to nombre dix.” His jaw bites back a laugh, but one bubbles right over my lips.
“Ah, so that’s why you wanted to meet up today. You need French pointers.”
He squats in front of the swing, rests his forearms across his thighs. “Please tell me you don’t have a boyfriend.”
“I don’t.”
“Okay, wait. Are you telling me that because I told you to tell me that, or do you really not have a boyfriend?”
“No boyfriend.”
“Girlfriend?”
“Not like that.”
He considers. “See, now that’s strange. I would’ve thought you’d have a million guys falling over you, based on your French prowess alone. It’s a highly effective mating technique, you know.”
I smile. “I wasn’t aware.”
“Check out Discovery Channel sometime. Butchered French is a primal mating call.”
“Very funny.”
“Seriously though. How can you not have a boyfriend?” The air falls still around us.
“I haven’t met the right person.”
Alec smiles. “Until now. You’re supposed to say . . . until now.”
“Oh, is that what I’m supposed to say?” I push the toe of my shoe into his and he presses back.
We are touching shoes.
The tips of our shoes.
I can see this. Know this.
So why does it feel like bees buzz under my skin, whirring a demand to touch more of him? I pull my foot away. It leaves me empty in a way that is new. The craving to touch more of Alec is beyond intense. And I want to push it away. Tame it.
Alec plucks a square of bark mulch from the ground and turns it between his fingers. “This has never happened to me before, you know. It’s like they say, about attractions being chemical and all. Okay, maybe that does sound Discovery Channel primal. Forget it.”