Page 10 of Something Like Fate

“You know what you need?”

He squeezes his eyes shut. “Don’t say it.”

“Another pet—”

“No.”

“Why not? Doris needs a friend. And so do you. There’s an adorable white standard doodle at the shelter named Boris. He has the cutest brown nose. You could have a Doris and a Boris.”

“That would be sweet,” he admits. “But my parents are good with one dog. Besides, I have you.”I have you.I let the words marinate for a few moments as we curve around a corner.

“Seriously, though. It’s been too long. Fill me in on the last year, aside from your breakup. And don’t leave out a single detail,” I warn, unable to suppress my chill. I feel this bursting urge inside to make up for lost time. I’d spent so many hours wondering what he was up to, wishing we could be hanging out.

“The past year ...” He whistles and runs his hand through his hair, like he’s sorting through where to begin. “You go first.”

Embarrassment coils through my gut. Where do I even start? Should I dazzle him with how Dad has switched things up, cooking curly fries instead of crinkled? How Brandon developed a questionable lump on his belly? How I convinced our old manager, Cindy, to give me shifts at The Cinema and that it’s the same as it always was, dead slow? Or the fact that I’m questioning my entire life trajectory andmaybe-might-have had a vision but I can’t be sure? It feels unfair to dump on him after not seeing him for so long, especially after his life just imploded. “I asked you first.”

He lets out a resigned sigh. “Fine. What do you want to know?”

“Everything. Like”—I wave my hands around, trying to come up with an easy question—“what grinds your gears these days?”

“What grinds my gears?” he repeats with a snicker. “Am I an old man or something?”

“That’s exactly what you are. A grumpy elder who calls bylaw on neighborhood kids playing outside past seven and drives below the speed limit.” I nod toward the speedometer to confirm.

He turns his whole body to check his blind spot before taking a right turn. “Hey, safety is cool.”

“You sound like my dad.”

He places a proud palm over his chest. “The highest honor. Eric is my idol.” He’s not lying. Teller and Dad get along swimmingly, probably because they’re both nerds who live and die by order.

“Anyway, current pet peeves. Go.”

He strokes his chin, pretending to look deep in thought despite already having an answer locked and loaded, like I knew he would. “Okay, fine. I really hate those news articles that turn out to be slideshows. Why do you have to make me click through to read the whole thing? Or download the app?”

“But they always have the coolest pictures.”

“I’m not there for the visual aids. I want the straight-up facts.” Quintessential Teller.

“Okay, what else?”

He fires off the next one just as quick. “People who sign off texts with their name.Yes, Mom, I know it’s you.”

“My dad does the same thing! He also starts each text with ‘Hi, Lo.’”

“Oh yeah, I remember that. Even indents each paragraph like a formal email. Does your aunt Ellen still create a new Facebook account every time she forgets the password to her last one?”

“Yes. She’s up to about twelve accounts now. How are your parents, anyways?”

“They’ve been living their best lives since we all left home. Actually, when I told them I needed to crash for the summer, they were kind of put out. My dad made a big deal about hauling my bed frame and mattress back upstairs. They’d already transformed my room into a craft room.”

“A craft room?”

“My mom became kind of obsessed with embroidery. Don’t ask. It’s the bane of my dad’s existence. Every time a new package of thread shows up at the door, he loses his mind because he thinks she’s wasting money.”

“Is she?”

He shrugs. “Not sure. But you know how she is—she gets really into things for a short period of time and then abandons them. Like someone I know.” He softly elbows me in the rib.

---