Page 75 of Daydream

She thinks for longer than I think she’d be able to justify if I challenged her. I don’t challenge her because I don’t want her to shut down. I love hearing her talk about anything, and she’s one of the only people I can say that about. “Grayson called me this morning to prewarn me about my mom being pissed off I’m not going home for Thanksgiving.”

I don’t think that meets the criteria of something nice. “Why aren’t you home for Thanksgiving?”

“When Will and I broke up, we knew our parents would interfere because they’re like that. We agreed that if I didn’t go home for the holidays, by the time we’re next together they’ll be over it. I just didn’t get around to telling my mom we broke up until today.”

Everything she says generates more questions. “Why areyounot going home for Thanksgiving? Why not him?”

“I have other options, I guess. I have my dad and stepmom in New York. He doesn’t have anywhere else he could go. It was just easier for me to be the one not to go home.”

“Easier for him.”

“When I saw him, he said we should both go home, but I’ve already agreed to work. There isn’t enough pumpkin pie in the world to make me agree to go home given how unimpressed my mom was. She’ll get over it, though. Hopefully by March.”

I’m always appreciative of my moms, but I’m extra appreciative when I talk to my friends about their own parents. My moms have never made me feel not good enough, never made me think I wasn’t capable of making my own choices, never discouraged me or asked too much of me. It wasn’t until I started college and widened my circle that I realized a lot of people aren’t as lucky as I am. Sure, they were busy at work, but they always found as much time for me as I needed as well as giving me the best of everything.

“What’s happening in March?” She turns away from me to yawn, and I remember that she’s supposed to be sleeping right now. “You can go back to sleep if you need to. I’ll stop asking you questions.”

“That’s okay. I like talking to you, and I feel like I should enjoy this bed as much as I can, given I’ll never be in this penthouse again. What’s happening in March?” she says, repeating my question. “My annual headache. My family and Will’s family go on vacation together over spring break. I’m tasked with organizing it every year,and it takes thirty gazillion hours of research and debates, and then when we finally get there, they all ignore my plan and complain the whole time. It’s delightful.”

Once again immensely grateful for my family. “It sounds the opposite of delightful.”

“It is. Every year I debate planning their trip and booking myself to go somewhere else alone. Sadly, I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t be able to function without me and they’d end up missing, fighting, or stranded. I mean, they fight when I’m there, too, but at least I know where they all are.”

“My parents just use travel agents to book our trips. Have your parents not heard of them?” She laughs again and rolls off me onto her back. I follow her, rolling onto my side and resting my head against my arm. I pull her closer. “You shouldn’t go if you don’t want to.”

“Aurora invited me on a girls’ trip during spring break. I’ve never been on one, or invited to one, and I really want to go. But it’s not worth the reaction I’ll get. Maybe next year, if she still wants me to go, that is, I can do it.”

“I know families are complicated and I’ve had it easy, but I’m struggling to understand why you don’t just say no and do what makes you happy. Why do you have to make sacrifices to please everyone?”

“Yeah, they ask a lot of me sometimes, but at least they always want me around. They say I hold everything together.”

“Even if it means sacrificing what you want to hold everything together?”

She’s quiet for a moment. “If everything falls apart because I rocked the boat, who’s going to notice if I fall overboard? Who’s there if I sink?”

I know how deeply Halle loves her family, and from the conversations I overhear they love her, too. I just wish she wasn’t weigheddown by everyone else’s burdens. Conversations like this allow me to learn more about her, which I desperately want, but I can’t help but feel unqualified to hand out advice.

“I notice everything you do, Halle. And I bet I could sail a boat if I tried.”

She rolls to face me, our stomachs touching we’re that close in this gigantic bed. “You do say you’re good at everything.”

“And Russ is too responsible to let anyone not wear a life jacket. Aurora probably has enough money to buy the Coast Guard,” I say. “The guys trained to be lifeguards in high school to meet girls. Robbie would love bossing people around. You’re not sinking, Cap. I’m not letting you.”

“Despite what you think, you do always say the right thing, Henry.”

“Go to sleep; we can talk more about how great I am when you wake up.”

Halle leans forward and kisses me slowly. It’s soft and sweet, just like her. She rolls over and slides backward until her back is flat to my chest, and that’s when we learn there’s no hiding an erection in satin pajamas.

Chapter Twenty-TwoHENRY

“WE’RE THINKING OF STARTING Apodcast.”

We’re still up north after playing here this weekend, and after our loss earlier—our third in the past two weeks—we decided to brave Faulkner’s wrath and use our hour before we head back to Maple Hills to see JJ. I’ve been trying to drown out the constant noise of my teammates chatting in order to concentrate on an essay that my brainreallydoesn’t want to concentrate on, but hearing the wordpodcastcome out of Mattie’s mouth is enough for me to lower my laptop screen.

“We want to call itThe Frozen Three,” Kris adds.

Bobby nods. “It’ll be about hockey.”

---