Page 25 of The Summer List

I stare hard into the popcorn bowl, like the fluffy white lumps are going to arrange themselves into a message from the universe, some buttery epiphany that will give me the answers I’m dying to hear, but all I see is popcorn.

I scoop up another handful and keep eating.

“That sounds lonely,” Naomi murmurs.

Something about her voice makes my chest ache.

“Yeah,” I say, lowering my voice to match hers. “I guess it is.”

“I’m lonely a lot too.”

I go so still I even stop chewing, something in my brain deciding that even the sound of popcorn squeaking between my teeth might scare Naomi off.

Hearing her speak almost feels like taming a deer, like I’m luring her in with a handful of clover, stretching out my hand in some wildflower-strewn meadow to show her I’m safe.

Only I lured her with marijuana, and I don’t know if I am safe for her.

I know I probably only keep trying to flirt because we’re both here and queer. She doesn’t seem like she’s down for a hook-up, and even though making her blush is becoming my new favourite hobby, part of me knows I’m not either.

I’ve never had sex with a girl, and it’s not that I’m waiting for some magical moment of being deeply in love, but I’d probably rather it didn’t happen with a girl I’ll never see again in a couple days at a time in my life when I’m living out of garbage bags.

“I feel like I’m missing something as well, something everybody else has, just like you said,” she tells me, staring up at where a few inky streaks of indigo have started to bleed into the pink sky. “There are things that just seem so easy for everyone else, so natural, but they take so much work for me. Every second I’m around almost every other person in the world feels like work. It’s exhausting, and it makes me so anxious I literally throw up for no good reason sometimes. Isn’t that crazy? I’m crazy, right?”

The dreamy tone fades from her voice, revealing an aching self-loathing so raw it makes me want to jump off the couch and squeeze her so tight she never has to feel lonely again.

“You’re not crazy. Don’t say that, Naomi.”

“How do you know?” she murmurs. “You’ve known me for two days, and I’ve barely said anything to you. I literally hid in my bedroom because I was so afraid to talk to you, and if I weren’t too stoned to even consider getting off this deck, I’d still be terrified to talk to you now. You must think I’m a little crazy.”

“Hey.” I give in to the urge to be closer to her and lower myself down to sit cross-legged on the deck beside her. “Hey, hey, hey.”

She snorts. “Hay is for horses.”

That makes me giggle, and in a matter of seconds, we’re both laughing so hard we end up wheezing and clutching our stomachs.

“Wow, we really are stoned,” I say once we’ve managed to calm down. “But look, what I came down here to say is that none of that makes you crazy. Everyone is their own flavor of weird, and I think yours is…pretty damn cool. You’re pretty intriguing, you know that?”

She lets out an unconvinced huff.

“I mean it,” I urge. “I mean, come on, we have the same favourite movie. That means you’re at least somewhat cool.”

I watch the corners of her mouth lift, and for a second, I feel like I’ve managed to pull the sun back up over the horizon.

“And now that you’ve managed to talk to me, you can’t go back to hiding in your room, okay? We’ve reached a new level of familiarity we can’t go back from.”

She keeps grinning. “Um, I don’t know if that’s how weed works, so I guess I’ll just have to take your word for it.”

I nod. “Yes, you will. Besides, I’ve already seen your pickle pajamas. You can’t get much more familiar than that.”

She groans and clamps her hands over her face.

“Oh my god,” she moans from beneath her palms. “I still can’t believe you saw those.”

“I thought they were pretty cute.”

The words slip out before I can stop them. Naomi stiffens before she slowly peels a hand from off her face and turns to blink one of her eyes at me.

She really is very pretty, even when she’s so stoned she seems to have forgotten to put her other hand down. The half of her face I can see catches the last of the light in the sky, reflecting it in the depths of those swimming pool eyes of hers.

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