Page 34 of Yours Truly

My heart stops.

“You’re leaving Bluebell?”

The back of my neck grows hot. The diner around me grows blurry. This is the man I’ve been idolizing for years. He’s here. And he’s leaving?

No. No fucking w— “Naa,” he says, shaking his head, his response sluicing through my chaos. “I’m moving into Deuce and Ev’s investment house.” Lucy appears with two plates, and slides one in front of each of us. Trace thanks her and takes his fork. Piercing lettuce and hard boiled egg with the tines, he says, “Gonna work on it at night instead of… being bad.”

“I bet Ev’s happy about that—she’s been wanting to get that place fixed up and on the market for a while,” I say, scared that if I comment on him being bad, he’ll shut down. Besides, I know what he means. It’s not a secret, and if it is, he does a horrible job of keeping it private.

He drinks too much and he parties too hard.

After a few bites, he finally says, “I don’t know. I just came to this conclusion with Deuce the other day. I haven’t talked to Ev.” He takes another bite and around the mouthful of food, he says, “You’re the only person I’ve told.”

“No family to tell that you’re settling down out here?” I question, because I’ve yet to hear Trace mention a mom or dad.

He shakes his head. “Folks are dead.”

“No siblings?” I ask, feeling preemptively a bit sad if he says no, because my sisters mean so much to me.

His eyes lift to mine then back to his salad. “None,” he finally answers.

From there, we eat our salads in silence, but it’s comfortable, and that should be weird but it isn’t. In sync, we pass and share the pepper, he sips decaf while I eat a piece of peach pie, and at the end, he drops a hundred-dollar bill on the table to pay.

“Thank you,” I say quietly, feeling suddenly nervous.

He walks to my car, taking a few steps back into the street as he waits for me to get inside and buckle up. With my headlights on and the door open, I say, “See you tomorrow.”

He doesn’t smile but he shoves his hands in his pockets. “See ya tomorrow, Firecracker.”

I look in the rearview and spot him watching me drive off.

Today was a very good day.

TEN

I’m jealous.

Trace

I peel the label from the bottle, looking at the tiny bits of adhesive and damp paper stuck to my fingers.

“Why are we here?” Deuce asks, peering around the counter at the bowling alley. “We’re the youngest here.”

It’s senior night at the bowling alley, where I asked Deuce to come meet me for a drink.

A non-alcoholic drink at that.

Sweat slides down my spine. Ivy. That’s why we’re here. She’s fucking me all up. No woman has ever pushed back, questioned me, argued with me, glared at me, made me sweat. I’ve never fantasized about waking up with a woman. Going to bed, sure, but waking up, never. I’ve always had access to women of all walks and not since my first love have I wanted to wake up the next morning with a woman… over and over. In fact, I’ve never really fantasized about a woman, period. Much less… the nonsexual aspects.

And that’s why we’re here.

“It’s safe, that’s why,” I say, plucking the last bit of label from the root beer. Deuce clinks his orange cream soda against my bottle.

“I support that, and these,” he says, making note of the bottle before lifting it to his lips for a long swig. “Damn, this is pretty good.”

I sip my root beer. “Yeah, it’s all right.”

He twists his head, one eye shut as he peers my way. His dark hair is down and messy, and he’s wearing a hoodie and gray sweats. I pulled this man from his comfortable life with his wife and son to listen to my bullshit. I tell myself I’d do the same for him, even though I’m not so sure. I also tell myself I’ll make it up to him by one day being the friend to him that he has been to me.

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