Page 17 of The First Love Myth

I nod. “Didn’t sleep well. Think I’ll go feed Lenny some breakfast.”

“You spoil that squirrel,” he says as I make my way past him.

“Guess you should’ve gotten me that kitten I asked for.”

His laughter fills the hallway, and then before I reach the living room, his voice rings through the quiet apartment again. “Bread’s on the counter.”

Nothing is better than a dozen ten-year-olds when you need a distraction. Particularly ones whose sole responsibility this summer is to run. It’s a godsend but also utterly exhausting. The day’s hot, and we’re forced to deviate from our normal routine to run laps around the air-conditioned hallways of the high school. The kids are troopers. I think they like the indoor days better, actually. When else do you get to run through the halls? It’s the teenagers who give us the hardest time on days like this. It’s too easy to sneak away into stairwells and classrooms and doorways. Which is why I’mwandering the high school, the last place I should be after this morning, looking for two sets of missing teens. Potential for unwanted make-out footage is high.

Max usually takes this job, being the older, more authoritative one of us, but he could tell the tweens had worn me down. So, handing me a bag of mini cookies, he kicked me out of the gym. If only he knew how little this would help me. After a lap of the third floor, where we usually find the offenders, I head outside. It’s sweltering, the heat almost oppressive after the coolness of the air conditioner. My skin prickles at the temperature change, and my cheeks tingle. Days like this are wasted on me. Half the town—hell, half the East Coast—will descend on the shore on a day like today. But me? No way. I will blast the air until I need a hoodie and lounge around the house. If you want to see me on a day like today, you better come to me.

I turn left out of the building and head toward the front of the school. I set off at a light jog, but it’s like running through soup. Hair sticks to my neck and cheeks where it’s fallen out of my ponytail. There’s no way campers are outside in this. No one can make out in this heat.

“Zo?”

My feet falter at Andrew’s voice. I turn toward the quad, an area so open I hadn’t even bothered to look at it when I rounded the building, and spot him. He’s balancing on the curb with his hands in his pockets and his eyes locked on me.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, my voice breathless even though I barely exerted myself.

He shrugs. Shrugs as if his presence isn’t heartbreaking and exhilarating and coursing equal parts anger, desire, and hope through my veins. I thought maybe he gave up. If it—I’m—not easy, then what’s the point? Ardena girls have been waiting a long time for Andrew Singer to be single. It’s not like he has to even try.

“Was driving past the school, and I wanted to ask you something.” He shrugs again. “Thought I’d see if you had a minute.”

I stare at him, the ability to form words momentarily lost. From anyone else, his story is plausible. Becca stopped for lunch the other day. But Andrew—at least this iteration of him—doesn’t stop by to ask me questions. He puts in the most minimal of efforts when it suits him.

“So do you have a minute?” he asks, his tone cool and confident.

I nod even though this exchange has already taken longer than a minute and then realize that it’s weird that I’ve uttered only five words in his presence this whole time. I clear my throat. “Maybe forty-five seconds. I’m looking for rogue campers.”

He laughs because only a few summers ago, we were the rogue campers. “They’re in the front parking lot. I sent them back inside.”

“Were they smoking?” I ask, confused why they would be in the front lot, in plain sight and direct sunlight.

“No. Sitting between two cars, sharing a sandwich, holding hands, and looking gooily into each other’s eyes.” He holds a hand up to his heart. “Tweens in love.”

“They had a sandwich from G&L?”

He grimaces. “Looked like it. Does it matter?”

Yes, it matters. If it’s G&L, then they absolutely went off campus to pick up lunch, which is strictly forbidden. But I swallow my diatribe for the moment. “Sorry, what did you want to ask me?”

“I’m going down to Wildwood with the boys next week.”

This I know. The yearly trip is one of the advantages of having an absentee father who works too much and lets you use his time-share. We took advantage of the small cottage more than once senior year.

I don’t say anything. Is he going to ask me to feed his cat or something?

“The guys aren’t coming until Tuesday, so I was thinking we could go down for the weekend.”

Did he use the word “we” to refer to the two of us? I don’t know what my face is doing, but whatever it is, Andrew softens. He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers casually brushing my cheek.

“It could be fun. You and me and none of the pressure that comes with being home or at school.” He sighs and looks at me through half-lidded eyes. “Things were always so easy with us.”

Until they weren’t. Until you complicated them beyond belief.My stomach turns because somewhere in him, he believes what he’s saying. How can he act like he didn’t rip everything we had to shreds?

His eyes drop to the ground before meeting mine again, searching for something. This is one of his tells. He’s about to drop the trump card. “Is it so wrong to want that back again?”

Oh my god.I step back. This is Andrew logic. He’s not saying he wants to get back together. He’s not. He wants me to think it, but it can’t be what he means. I start to shake my head because this will break me, and I can feel myself getting ready to say yes. Because I’m an idiot.

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