Page 71 of Over the Edge

The moment shifts as he cocks his head toward the building. “What do you want?”

I give him my order, and he goes to the counter where a teen in a paper hat helps him. I’m doing my best not to think of what will happen after this weekend.

I’ve always tended to hold one crucial part of myself back from people. More often than not, it’s music. For some reason it feels like if someone doesn’t have all of me then if they don’t really like me then I can blame it on the fact they never had the chance to know all of me.

Garrett has learned so much more about me than most people ever have. The versions of us here aren’t the same as who we are in the city. He’s not someone who I can pull through blueberry farms and museums, and I’m not someone who can pretend I don’t want more of that. We’ve been those people before, but the shape of who we are now isn’t something I want to let go of. It fits so well in my hands, into the cracks in my heart.

Garrett walks back to the car with greasy paper bags that make my mouth water. He hands them over to me as he climbs into the car. When I look inside my brows pull together.

“Why didn’t you get the burger? Mr. King lost his family so you could try it,” I tease.

“I’ll just have to have a bite of yours,” he says as he reaches for his bag.

“That’s awfully presumptuous of you. I respect this man's hard work, and I’ll savor every bite.”

“Chicken tenders are easier to eat if I want some while driving and they won’t get soggy if I wait too long to eat them,” he explains.

“Let’s stay here and eat,” I say, but then add, “Unless you have somewhere you need to be.”

“No. I just need to be here.”

The night air fills with the crinkle of wrappers and foil being stripped from food. I trade some of my burger for a chicken tender. When our food is gone, he goes back for chocolate shakes. The night continues to stretch, and my heart seems to patter out a rhythm.

More. More. More.

After the first sip of my shake, I hesitate for a moment. The words burst out of me at a sprint. I can’t stop what comes next. “We’re friends, right?”

“Is that a trick question?” His brows pinch in their usual way.

“I promise I wouldn’t give you the verbal version of a check yes or no for a trick question,” I joke through the embarrassment heating my cheeks.

“Yes, we’re friends, Eve,” he says. His face softens. “I thought it was obvious.”

“Maybe it should be.” I look down to where my hands are wrapped around the plastic cup. “I guess as adults we’re just expected to know when we transition from people who spend time together to friends without asking. I’m just out of practice with this whole friend thing. It just felt pointless to meet new people who I couldn’t really open up to when I moved to New York.”

And now with Oliver and Quinn, I have no idea what I’m doing either. Who I’m supposed to be with them, to them, now that they have each other. Do they even need me anymore?

“It’s hard picturing you alone like that.” It’s not the first time he’s said something like it. In some ways, I’m happy he sees me in the way I present myself to everyone else.

“I never thought I’d end up that way,” I admit. I always thought I’d have Quinn and Oliver; I guess I still do. I just don’t know how to have them in my life without the potential of hurting them. I’ve already done it once. “And it’s not like you noticed. You were too busy ignoring me.”

“You're impossible to ignore, even if I wanted to.”

“Good to know I’m starting to win you over.” I tap my melty shake against his.

“It’s not like I ever did—want to ignore you, I mean.” The heat in his words causes me to take a long sip, but that does nothing to dampen the intensity.

“I guess you can keep me as your emergency contact then,” I tell him, trying to sidestep how that makes me feel. “But seriously, getting to know you here…I don’t know, it’s like I’m meeting you for the first time, even though I’ve known you almost all my life.”

“You weren’t missing out on much.” And I can tell he believes it.

“I think you’re wrong about that.” I reach out my hand. “I’m Evelyn, by the way.”

He plays along, the way the Hartsfall version of him has grown to do. “Garrett.” His hand wraps over mine.

“Thanks for letting me know you.”

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