Page 74 of For the Record

She said she didn’t know. Did we have to do all of this pulling stuff out of her bull crap? Was no one listening? What was so great about a guy named Mason? How tall was he?

“I…I mean, the timing isn’t ideal. Most guys don’t like how much time I have to dedicate to my dad lately.”

I loved that about her. It had been one of my favorite things about her from the day we met. She was loyal, even to her own detriment.

“Okay, I get that…but one night? Come on, I already showed him your picture, and I think I got him a little too excited.”

“Calla!” Rachel scolded with a laugh. Layla and my mom giggled with them. It wasn’t even that funny.

“Think about it. You haven’t gone out in how long?”

“Almost two years.” Rachel sighed. Exactly when we met. That was the last time she went out, same as me.

“Hmm. Yeah, it’s time,” my mom said. I was fully prepared to turn around and give her a death glare. She was not helping.

“Okay, yeah, maybe.” I turned my head enough to look over and see Rachel staring right at me as she nodded. “I guess it’s time.”

My chest ached a deep pain down to behind my ribs, my palms itching and my mind racing. She was going to do it. She was going to go out. You told her to, dumbass. Not in so many words, but I guess, technically, I did push her away a bit.

It’s just that I was easy picking for her. I was here and simple and knew her situation. It was the route of least resistance for her, and I wasn’t going to be a default. I needed her to want me on her own, fully. Not as the guy next to her at the bar. Not as the guy walking side by side with her down the aisle of a friend’s wedding. Not as the guy who was always there for her. I needed her to see this for what it was. I wanted everything with her, and I wasn’t going to settle for less. If she wasn’t ready for that, then I would be fine waiting. I’d wait forever if I had to. She could go on as many dates as she wanted, and still, in my head and heart, she would be mine.

We quickly finished up the majority of the project. Rachel did eventually sit next to me, sprinkled in glitter like she was made for it. After a few awkward moments—which in reality, were only awkward for me—she moved back to Calla and Layla.

Liam said the event wasn’t until tomorrow night, so he would come and wrap up minor details in the morning. It was getting dark, and there was only so much work you could do while Crew was flicking two flashlights on and off and beatboxing as if we were at a rave.

I wiped my hands off on a spare rag, attempting to get any leftover paint out of the calluses on my fingers. Luke and Layla had already taken off. Calla and Nathan were right behind them. Crew yawned and said something about meeting someone at his food truck early in the morning, and my parents had left as soon as the sun was setting. Which left only Liam, Rachel, and me.

We hadn’t said much to each other, other than an occasional “hey, can you pass that?” or me asking if she was okay when I heard her wince at one of the tools pinching her. I reached for my keys in my back pocket, turning to Liam. “You gonna stay here for a while?”

He nodded. “Yeah, gotta make sure it’s perfect, you know?”

I didn’t. Not really, anyway. But he had his reasons for winning over his ex-wife, and I imagined if I were in a similar position with Rachel, I’d probably be doing the same thing. I simply dipped my chin at him.

Rachel stood and reached for her speaker, turning it off and putting it in her back pocket. “I should go too. Not much I can do until this paint dries.”

“Thanks, guys. I really appreciate it.”

Rachel and I both nodded at him and started walking to her car and my bike.

The silence of the night fell between us, the only noise being our footsteps on the gravel and an occasional bird in the distance. My chest burned, aching to ask her any questions I could. I wanted to pull her close, drive her home, and kiss her good night, knowing exactly where we were leaving things. Every time I tried to ask her, though, tried to tell her the truth, my tongue got caught in my mouth. The words fell out of me like they never belonged there in the first place. She deserved to know everything, every piece of this, and yet I couldn’t make myself do it.

We reached our vehicles, both of us fumbling with our keys.

“So, I’ll, uh, see you later?” she mumbled, her voice wobbly and her throat bobbing.

I didn’t answer back. Just dipped my head in affirmation. She sniffled, and I didn’t look her way. I couldn’t take it. One tear, and I was done for.

We turned away from each other, her walking to her car and me to my bike. I reached for my helmet, thankful to have something covering my face so she couldn’t read me. She was always so good at that.

Her car door opened and shut, and I sighed in relief, knowing she was safe there. Or I assumed so until I heard her feet stomping against the pavement toward me. I turned my head. She wasn’t crying. There was no sign of tears or distress. No, she was pissed. Nostrils-flaring, red-cheeked, nails-biting-into-her-curled-palms pissed.

“Are you not going to say anything?” She raised her shaky voice at me, and it was honestly relieving. I would gladly take anger over tears.

“About what?”

“You’re going to let me go out with another guy?”

I bit back a smile. Another guy. As if we were actually going out.

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