Page 9 of Advice from a Sunflower

“Nice ride,” I compliment, running my fingers over the dated, red leather dash.

His dad bought it for him over the summer to get back and forth from practice after he joined a summer league. My guess was that he was proud to finally see Eli doing something that slightly resembled him in a way. I wondered what his mother thought about him being out in The Hollow every weekend. She probably harassed him about it, terrified of what could happen to her most prized possession in the shadows of night. I only knew about the car from Marnie, who had apparently warmed back up to the idea of hanging out with him again when his social status rose.

“Thanks,” is all he says, turning the radio down and switching the station.

It was on a modern rap and hip-hop radio station before—nothing the Eli I knew would ever be caught dead listening to. I pretend not to notice when I realize his cheeks are darkening in embarrassment.

“So, how have you been? I don’t see you around much anymore.”

Of course, the first thing I think to say to ease the tension is a jab at him. My hand lifts to my forehead, wiping away a layer of sweat that’s begun forming at my hairline.

This is ridiculous. Eli and I have known each other our entire lives; there’s no reason to be this way around him.

He looks over at me from the side, careful to keep his stare directed toward the road. “I’ve been around. Busy with practices and homework.”

My head bobs a little too fast for a nod, instead looking more like I’m having some sort of attack instead of the cool, understanding look I was going for. “Nice.”

He turns the vehicle off the town’s main road toward our neighborhood and I find myself wishing we had more time than we do. A short ride home doesn’t seem like enough anymore, not when I have no idea when he’ll bother giving me his time again. I start to panic, the small sheen of sweat now gathering into tiny beads begging to stream down my face. My fingers blindly feel around the door for a button or a crank to open the window but come up short.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, finally turning his head in my direction.

“Why can’t I open this window? I’m suffocating in here, and there’s no way to get any fresh air in this stuffy car…” my mouth keeps rambling on, panicked.

Eli pulls the car over on one of the side streets and leans his body over mine, reaching for a button that was sitting right beside my hand. The window goes down and a rush of cool, autumn air blows onto my soaked scalp.

“Better?”

I sit still, my head hanging out the side of the car for a few moments before I answer.

“Yes,” I breathe, bringing my face back in.

“Can I start moving again?”

“Sure.”

The awkwardness from before has returned, only now it feels like a tangible, living thing sitting in the back seat and instead of dreading our departure, I’m looking forward to it. With any luck, I won’t have to see him again for at least a few weeks. That’ll give him time to forget what a complete nutcase I am.

When he pulls up to the curb in front of his house and shifts into park, I’ve already got my hand on the lever to open the door and escape this alternate reality I’ve found myself in. The one where I go out with the rest of my classmates on a weeknight and being alone with Eli throws me into a full-blown panic attack. I have to wake up from this nightmare.

“Thanks for the ride. I’ll see you around,” I spit out, whipping the door open.

His hand lands on top of my arm, stopping me from rising out of the seat. “Wait a second.”

I settle back again, inhaling deeply to calm my erratic breathing. “What?”

“Do you have anything going on right now?”

My brows knit together skeptically as I turn to face his honest stare. “Um…”

“It’s fine if you’re busy. I was just thinking we haven’t hung out in a while, and I have some new bands I found that I’ve been wanting to show you…” His words hang awkwardly in the air between us as they taper off.

An invitation. So, our time didn’t have to end after a short drive home.

The logical part of my brain reminds me that this won’t end well for me. Sure, this was a harmless thing when we used to be best friends, but he’s since morphed into the boy that I like—really, really like—who, last I checked, was head over heels over my sister. Or Emma Taylor. Or any other girl who I’ve seen hanging all over him that’s the absolute opposite of me. To him, this is just old friends hanging out. To me, it’s more, and that’s why it’s going to hurt so bad in the end, when I go back home, and we return to our usual routine of ignoring each other.

But unable to say no, I still find myself agreeing and following him into his bungalow, up the familiar steps that lead to his room, and right onto the couch beside his bed that I laid claim to many years ago.

“You’ve lost your touch,” I tease an hour later, sifting through his CD collection. They’re sprawled out on the floor around me as Eli sits directly across, taking my insults in stride.

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