Page 24 of Tell Me It’s Right

“Carson?”

“Where’re you headed?” she asks.

“Uh, just the shore.” I yank the strap of my camera bag higher on my shoulder before it can fall.

She nods to the side. “Throw your bike in the back. I’ll give you a ride.”

If not for the truck, I might not have recognized her. She’s driven this giant monstrosity since sophomore year of high school, and it’s as hard to climb into as I remember. It’s been only four years since I last saw Carson, but everything about her looks different.

Every memory I have of her since elementary school includes her long blond hair in two French braids, but it’s now dyed black and chopped into a blunt bob that barely skims her chin. Her face looks thinner too, her cheekbones more pronounced, and I’d be surprised if that wasn’t filler in her lips, because they definitely never looked like that before.

“What are you doing out here so early?” I ask as I pull the door shut behind me.

“Oh, I was just heading home.”

Home?

My confusion must show on my face because she shrugs as she pulls away from the curb. “I work nights.” Before I can ask for more details, she adds, “And anyway, how long have you been back in Jersey? I had no idea you were here.”

“A week or so. I, um, I moved in with Leo.”

Her eyebrows shoot up.

“It’s temporary,” I add quickly.

The eyebrows come back down and pinch together.

We’ve made it to the water now, and she shifts the truck into park, but I don’t climb out.

I don’t know when or why we stopped talking. We were inseparable almost all our lives. By senior year of high school,we’d started growing apart—different friends, different hobbies—and by the time I left for college, somehow we went from talking every day to not exchanging a single word for four years. And the longer that silence between us grew, the harder it became to be the one to reach out.

“Look, Carson, I’m?—”

“Gracie, I’m sorry I never?—”

We both break off with an awkward laugh, and I look down at the camera bag in my lap.

“You coming out here to take pictures?” she asks.

“Yeah, and I just missed the water, I guess.” I bite my lip, sigh, and add, “I’m staying at Leo’s because I haven’t been able to find a job after I graduated. And every minute I’m in his house I feel like more of a failure. I just—I needed the fresh air. Maybe I’ll get some shots to add to my portfolio if any turn out okay. Sorry, I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. You’re probably exhausted and just want to get home. I’ll—” I jab my thumb over my shoulder and reach for the door handle.

She lays a hand on my arm before I can climb out. “Have you had coffee yet?”

For a while there, that was our thing. Getting coffee and going for walks on the beach as we gossiped and swapped stories since we were in all different classes and barely got to see each other during the day.

“You know what? I’m not taking no for an answer.” She hops out of the truck and circles to my side like she’s going to pull me out if I don’t do it myself. “You can leave that here, if you want. I’ll lock it.” She gestures to my things as I join her on the sidewalk. I leave the backpack but keep my camera bag, then follow her as she heads for the line of shops along the shore.

Most of them don’t look open yet, but a tiny yellow house on the corner has lights glowing in the windows. A bell rings overhead as Carson steps inside first. There’s so much moreconfidence in her walk than I ever remember there being. She commands attention as she walks with her head held high, shoulders thrown back, and an easy smile on her face.

Even with just the two of us in here, the space is pretty cramped. Two tables are against the far wall, with the counter across from them. I wonder if the owners live in the other parts of the house.

“Gracie? What do you want?” asks Carson with a glance at me over her shoulder.

I spout off my order then hurry forward and dig out my debit card before Carson can pay. She opens her mouth to protest, but I wave her off. “For the ride.”

She rolls her eyes but smiles as the barista hands over her order—something in a large hot cup.

“You’re not going to be cold carrying that out there?” she asks as the barista finishes my drink.

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