Page 97 of The Summer List

“So, is it safe to say we can break our rule now?” Naomi asks after using one of the napkins she grabbed to wipe a stray cheesecake glob off her hand.

I lower my cone and shift so I’m facing her. “And which rule would that be?”

“The one where we’re not allowed to talk about anything past the end of the summer.”

I’m about to tell her we’ve already broken that rule countless times since the Hardcore Pool Party Incident. I’ve filled her in on my conversations with my dad, which have been promising, as well my conversations with my mom, which have been less promising but still have the faintest trace of hope to them.

My dad wasn’t even mad about the smashed sculpture, which was miraculously the only permanent damage we found amidst the sea of bottles and Solo cups. I told my dad I’d pay for the sculpture—which I would have done, even though it might have taken a couple years of monthly deposits—but he said the only thing he wanted to make up for it was some time with me.

I’m still not quite sure what to make of that, but I’m not absolutely dreading his and Sandy’s return next week, which is saying something.

My mom keeps saying she needs time to process and doesn’t know how she feels, but she also offered to ship some of the stuff I still have in my bedroom in Toronto. It’s mostly just a few books and some clothes I didn’t bother taking with me after high school, but she never offered to do that when I moved to Montreal.

I open my mouth to remind Naomi I’ve already told her all of that, but something about the nervous look in her eye and the way she’s fidgeting with the edge of her dress makes me pause.

I realize we’ve talked about me staying in Ottawa, and we’ve talked about her starting school, but we haven’t really talked about what’s going to happen with us.

“I’m ready to forget about that rule,” I say, “if you are.”

She nods and smoothes her dress over the tops of her thighs.

“So, I’m still not sure exactly where my life is going,” I begin. “I think I’ve got some catching up to do with the whole figuring out what I want to be when I grow up thing, but I’m ready for it. I’m not running away from what feels right anymore. I’ve actually, um, put in a request to join a public speaking course.”

Her eyes light up as she gasps. “You didn’t tell me that! That’s so cool.”

I nod and drop my gaze down to my ice cream cone as my face heats up.

“Thanks. I figure I can do some little courses like that to help me decide what I’m passionate about, as much as I can when I’m not working whatever job I get for now. I always loved when my mom let me make little speeches to her class when she brought me to the studio on special occasions, and doing the open mic night made me remember how much I miss stuff like that. I love music, but only as a hobby. I’ve never wanted to make it a career, but the being up in front of a crowd part of it, getting them all to feel something…maybe there’s something there for me. It’s not much, but it’s something.”

She stops fussing with her dress and lays her hand on my arm instead. “It’s more than something. It’s awesome. I’m…I’m really proud of you.”

Those words make me glow so bright I’m in danger of melting my ice cream.

“Thanks,” I mumble. “I don’t want you to think I don’t have any goals, or that I’m just hanging around town to be lazy, or—”

“Hey.” She squeezes my arm to cut me off. “I’ve never thought that. You’re allowed to need time to figure it out.”

I pause and let those words sink in. Part of me wants to argue and tell her there’s no way she’s not rethinking being on a date with someone whose life is as messy as mine, but I stay still and quiet until that part of me quiets down too.

If we’re going to do this for real, I have to believe her. I have to believe in myself.

“I just really want you to know that I’m serious about things,” I say. “I’m serious about living here. I’m serious about finding my passion, and I’m serious about…us.”

“Us?” she murmurs.

I suck in a deep breath and squeeze my eyes shut as I urge myself to keep going.

“Yeah, us. I want to…I want to date you, Naomi. I want you to be a part of my life, whatever it ends up looking like. I’m not sure of much, but I’m sure of that. I’ve been sure of that for way longer than I’ve been ready to admit it, and…I’m ready now. I’m ready to tell you I think I might be falling in love with you too.”

I still have my eyes shut, but I can feel Naomi watching me. She’s silent for so long a trickle of melted ice cream starts sliding down my fingers. I squeeze the cone so tight I’m sure I’m going to crush it, but I don’t open my eyes until I feel her shift close enough to press the side of her leg against mine.

When I see her staring at me with a look that says she’s full of that same feeling as me, the one that’s far too big for words, I know there’s no hope for our ice cream.

Both cones splat against the sidewalk as we lunge for each other. Her hands end up locked behind my neck while mine frame her face. Her lips are sweet and sticky against mine, and she shivers when I swipe my tongue over them before pulling her even closer.

She tastes like a summer that never, ever ends.

CHAPTER 25

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