Page 57 of The Summer of ’98

Ellie was still sound asleep when I emerged from the bathroom in the morning. Cass and Noah were in the other bed, facedown in their pillows. They must have come back sometime after Els and I had fallen asleep last night, and I was glad that it hadn’t been earlier. Not when I thought about Ellie beneath me, writhing, moaning, fingernails dragging down the length of my back. Damn. I ran a hand across my face and exhaled. We were no longer alone, so there would be no morning sex. However, I did need to talk to Noah about last night. It made sense to get it over with before the drive home.

I stood beside his bed and gave his bare back a careless slap. He rolled onto his side and peered through half-closed lids. “What?”

“We need to talk,” I said. “Let’s go for a walk.”

“Later.”

“Now.”

“What the hell,” he threw the comforter back and stood up, scratching himself and stretching.

“You want to keep it down so the girls can sleep?”

“Shut up,” he grumbled and stormed off toward the bathroom. “I’ll be outside in a minute.”

I stood out in the hall and waited for him to get himself together. The hotel staff were pushing carts covered in room service or housekeeping products. Our checkout was in two hours but we didn’t have a lot to pack up so it wouldn’t be hard to be out on time. Noah appeared ten minutes later, clothed and hair ruffled into a tidier mess than it was before.

He glared at me as he closed the door with no damn care, banging it closed. I threw my arms open in exasperation. “Dude, shut up.”

“Why should they get to sleep in, and I’m dragged out of bed at eight in the damn morning?”

The conversation was already off to a terrible start. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“I dunno. We could go and get some breakfast.”

“Fine,” he walked beside me, hands in his pockets. “Start talking.”

“How are things going between you and Cass?”

“That’s what you dragged me out of bed for? To ask how my toxic relationship is going?”

It wasn’t that I regretted referring to his relationship as toxic. At the time, I meant what I said. But it could have been delivered gentler, I suppose. As hard as it was not to, belittling him wasn’t going to help. Neither was enablement. Ellie was right about that.

“No,” I said. “That’s not the only reason why I dragged you out of bed. But I am curious. Why did you change your mind and make things exclusive?”

He kept his head down, walking beside me. We stepped onto the elevator and he leaned against the wall. “I don’t know. I like her, I guess.”

It took all I had not to express disappointment in his answer. “You like her enough not to sleep with other girls?”

“I know what exclusive means, Leroy. Thanks for confirming.”

The droning tone of elevator music filled the silence while I stared at Noah and he stared at the floor. It was so hard to get a grasp on this kid. We didn’t understand each other at all, and it made me mourn the days when he’d been my best friend and we got each other like no one else did. That sort of bond seemed unbreakable back then. But people change with age. We’d clearly grown in different directions and I wondered if we’d ever get back to that place again. All I could do was try.

The elevator doors opened, and we stepped off, crossing the lobby and heading outside. There was no official plan, but I figured we’d walk until we found something.

“It’s always her,” Noah mumbled, my attention moving between him and the sidewalk in front of me. “She’s always there. She’s good to me. Your girl had some points, I guess. There was no point in not making it official. I didn’t want to let her go, but I guess I couldn’t keep screwing around. So . . . it made sense.”

His answer almost felt . . . cold. But Noah hadn’t opened up to me like that in a long time and I wasn’t about to make him feel like an idiot for it. He was obviously trying but something told me if Cass was the right girl for him, his answer would have felt warmer, more passionate. Maybe they wouldn’t work, but for now, he was doing his best for the girl that cared about him more than he knew.

“Ellie said Cass was happy about the whole thing,” I said. “Freaking out about it.”

Noah shrugged. We approached a café called Spring Bowl. It was small, not a lot of seating, but it wasn’t busy, and it smelled like hot food and coffee. I gave Noah a gentle backhand on the chest to follow me inside. The glass cabinets were full of sandwiches, pastries, and desserts. We ordered for ourselves and decided to get the girls something before we left.

We sat down at a two-person table, a framed photo of the store opening on the wall beside us and menus stacked between condiments. Noah tapped the tabletop and refused to look at me when he said, “Sorry about last night.”

Noah rarely apologized in actual words. He preferred to brush things aside or use a gesture of kindness to call a truce. But the word sorry rarely left his mouth. I tried not to seem stunned.

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