Page 13 of If Tomorrow Never Comes

“I won’t be in Lincoln.”

She no longer met his eyes and didn’t offer more information.

“I guess exchanging numbers is out of the question?” Did he sound completely pathetic? It was hard to believe everything between them could have been so one sided, and he wondered if her ambiguity had to do with whatever she was going through. He hated it for her, most of all, but he selfishly hated it for himself, too. Did she really mean to leave everything here? Was tonight really it?

Her gaze dropped to the ground, as if she needed a minute. Then she looked back up at him with glassy eyes. Her voice wobbled. “It will only make things worse for me.”

He balled his hands into fists to keep from reaching for her. He was at a complete loss.

She sniffled and began backing away from him. “Thank you for tonight. Really. I’ll never forget it.”

He lurched forward and grasped her fingers. “Wait. Please, don’t go yet. Can we maybe sit for a little while? Just talk?”

She rocked onto the balls of her feet and swiped her forearm across her eyes, and he prepared himself for her to pull away. But then she swayed toward him and nodded. “Okay.”

They sat down next to each other on the sidewalk, backs up against the brick wall and legs extended. He said nothing for a moment, relieved she was still in his space and terrified of scaring her off again. Even though he was pretty certain her exit attempt was more about whatever she was dealing with than about him, he still wanted every single second she’d give. Things had felt so comfortable before, and he wanted to get back to her smiles and laughter.

“I hate cucumbers so much I tell people I’m allergic just so one never gets anywhere near me,” he blurted out.

She let out a sort of single-snort laugh. It was loud and ungraceful, and he adored it. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he confirmed. “I don’t even think my own sister knows the truth.”

She jutted out her lower lip gave him an impressed nod, like,Nice. “Maybe I should try that the next time I’m around chocolate. I bet you don’t get unhinged side-eyes when you say you’re allergic to cucumbers.”

“Yeah, avoiding vegetables ... avoiding chocolate. Those are the same.”

Smiling, she rolled her eyes, then looked up at him thoughtfully. “Isn’t cucumber a fruit?”

He frowned. “Is it?”

“I think so, but I feel like we’re not the best people to discuss food categories. That could go south again real quick.”

He laughed. “Good idea.”

They fell silent for a few moments, watching the activity across the street. She tapped his shoe with hers and then offered up, “I was voted Most Likely to Quietly Take Over the World my senior year of high school.”

It was his turn to grin and say, “Seriously?” Then he added, “That’s the best thing I’ve ever heard. Also, now I’m a little intimidated.”

“Me too,” she said with a laugh. “Like, how was I ever supposed to live up to that?”

He hadn’t known her long, but for some reason he could see it. “You’ve still got time.”

She went quiet and looked down at her hands, and he almost asked if he’d said something wrong. But she leaned her head on his shoulder and asked, “Did you have a superlative?”

“No, my school didn’t do those.”

“If they had, what would yours have been? Biggest Heartthrob? Beauty and Brains? Most Athletic?”

“Wow. I love this game. Keep going.”

She pinched his side, and he caught her hand. He couldn’t tell who initiated it, but their fingers intertwined and came to rest together on his thigh.

“Honestly, I have no idea. How about Worst Case of Senioritis? Was that a thing? Because by the third day of school senior year, I was over it. I wanted to be outside or playing baseball, with nothing in between.”

They went back and forth like this for another two hours, sharing pieces of themselves on every topic imaginable.

Jamie: “I’ve never seen a single Star Wars movie.”

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