Page 12 of Crazy for this Girl

“How did you do it?”

“Impatiently waited.”

I chuckle because he’s worse than me. Seriously, the pizza guy was late last week and Cal about had a fit. “But when? I’m with you all the time.”

“This morning when I was waiting for you to come out.”

Lord, grant me the strength…

I will not develop anything more than a friendship with this boy. So, why is it a daily reminder to myself as of late? Honestly, I need to hang out with the opposite sex more because this special attention—if you want to call it that—is screwing with my headspace.

I ease up on the smile taking hold of my face because I probably look like a possessed clown.

I want to keep the turtle, but we have a three-hour ride home and nothing to keep him in. Plus, Mom will probably have a fit about it. Even more of one since Cal gave it to me.

He could give me worse things if you think about it.

A hickey.

An addiction to alcohol.

We could’ve smoked weed on the side of one of our cabins, and he could’ve brought me home super late. Cal and I barely went anywhere that wasn’t some sort of shouting distance from one of my parents.

“I love him,” I say, brushing my index finger underneath the turtle’s claws. “He’s the best thing I’ve ever been given by anyone.”

“Really?” His tone raises as if he doesn’t believe me, but it is. This moment, things like this, can’t be bought.

And it’s so Cal to do something like this.

He’s not your normal teenage boy like I thought he was. Yeah, he’s gross with some of the things he does, but he can’t help himself, being the born sex that act like cavemen on a daily basis.

I can’t hold that against him, but this little turtle who wants nothing to do with us right now as he moves all four of his little legs and arms, will be something I’ll never forget.

I nod reassuringly at my best friend to ease his mind. “Yeah, dummy. He’s amazing and so cute.” My heart sinks in my chest at what I have to say next, and I don’t want it to sound like I’m ungrateful.

He did this for me because he wanted to.

“What’s wrong?” I meet Cal’s worried gaze and pet the little turtle with all the affection I have for him within the last minute of knowing him.

“I can’t take him home,” I emit sadly. “I have nowhere to put him, and my mom is weird with animals. But maybe we can take a picture and find him next year?”

“Yeah, let’s do that.”

I drop my backpack to the ground and pull out my disposable camera. Through the lens, we take pictures of the little reptile at all angles and underneath its shell to hopefully have some sort of special marking that’ll help us identify him next year.

“Perfect,” I convey, dropping back to my haunches to put him back.

“Wait”—Cal’s hand grabs my shoulder. ”—we never took a picture of us together.”

My jaw slacks a little that he’d even care.

He’s going back to California, where bands sing about girls twenty-four-seven in skimpy clothes and summer love. I’m giving it a month before Cal falls back into his old life and forgets to do what he’s afraid I’m going to, which is write me back.

Rising, I stand at his side and hold the Kodak above our heads a tad to take a picture. Cal’s arm wraps around my waist, and he holds the turtle between us with the other.

I almost forget to press the button.

I’m not built for boys, apparently. I can’t seem to function right, and Cal means a lot to me in a short amount of time. My whole body flushes in a wave of heat as we stand pressed together, and I force a normal smile before hitting the little black button.

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