Page 84 of Catch the Sun

But as I glance across the street at Ella pedaling down her driveway on her red bike with the sun in her hair and a smile on her lips, I know that it’s not impossible.

She skids to a stop in front of my yard, planting both feet on the ground. “Hey,” she greets me. The smile sticks, despite the fact that I was a heartbeat away from kissing her last week at the music festival. Luckily, I refused to let us simmer in awkwardness, so I taped a list to her bedroom window on Monday morning before school:

Reasons Why You Shouldn’t Avoid Me Forever

1. You’d miss my amazing lists too much.

2. Who will you play Pooh sticks with? Yourself? Lame and you know it.

3. We still haven’t arm wrestled yet. A life filled with regret is a life wasted.

—Max

It was dumb but seemed to do the trick. Ella ate lunch with me by the willow tree at school that afternoon and every day since. I haven’t tried to kiss her again, even though it’s all I’ve thought about. While I’ve made peace with my shifting and growing feelings for Ella, I realize her walls are more shatterproof than mine. Just like this old house, it’s going to take time and patience to mend what’s broken and build something new.

“What are you up to?” she asks, glancing at the tools strewn across my front lawn.

“Fixing up the house.”

Her eyebrows swing up to her hairline. “Really?”

“Chevy offered to help me. He’s already renovating this huge property a mile from here, so he knows his stuff and has a ton of leftover materials. McKay offered, too, but I’m not holding my breath with him.” I pop a hammer in the air, giving it a twirl, then catch it by the handle. “I figure it might take months, maybe even a year, but it’ll get there eventually. Progress is inevitable when you put in the work.”

Chevy jogs over to us from the adjacent yard, wearing a backward ball cap and a grease-stained tank. He’s covered in tattoos, putting my singular tattoo to shame. Chevy is a midthirties bachelor who lives by himself and always has a thousand projects going on at one time. Auto repairs, house flips, landscaping, you name it.

“Hey, darling.” He nods at Ella as he approaches, a few pieces of a honey-blond hair sprouting from underneath the cap. “Is Max putting you to work?”

She wrinkles her nose, shifting her weight on the bike. “No, I’m heading into town to grab coffee with Brynn. I’ve given up on the job hunt at this point, so I’ll settle for drowning my sorrows in a lethal amount of espresso.”

“That’ll do the trick,” he says.

“Thank you for the bike, by the way. Sorry I haven’t said that yet.”

I blink.Whoops.

“Uh, sure.” Chevy glances at me and flips his hat around. “I fixed it up and gave it to Max years ago when he was still a kid. I’m glad someone is getting use out of it again.”

I don’t say anything as I stare at Ella and rub the back of my neck.

Realization dawns, filling her eyes. Her lips thin and she nods slowly, gaze fixed on me. “Yeah,” she murmurs. “I’m glad, too.”

The sound of the screen door creaking open behind us has me whirling around, my attention locking on my father, who hobbles onto the porch step.

He leans forward on his cane, his pants two sizes too big and drooping off his hips. “Is this the pretty girl you brought to the dance?” he wonders, motioning at Ella.

All of my worlds are colliding. I stumble for a response, my throat thick. “Yeah, Dad. This is Ella. She lives across the street.”

Ella tosses her bike down and moves across the yard. “Nice to finally meet you, Mr. Manning.”

“Call me Chuck.” His face lights up. “Did my son get you flowers?”

Sighing, I rub the space between my eyes and wish for a swift death. “Dad, c’mon. She has somewhere to be.”

“He did, actually,” she replies. “Orange roses.”

“Orange?” He frowns. “Interesting. Never gotten those before.”

“Orange is my favorite color.”

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