Page 21 of Anytime I Want

“Hmm. Rephrase it and we’ll see.”

I hum, fidgeting with the flowers.

“Julia?” Mom presses. I bobble my head before meeting her gaze. It feels like I am staring at my eyes in the mirror. Maybe it’s time to confide in her.

“I’m a little worried that he doesn’t like me as much as he says he does. He flirts with everyone all the time. Plus he’s Nate’s best friend, our neighbor; you love his parents. It’s a recipe for disaster. So he’s proving that he does like me enough by fulfilling the list. If he does it, then we can date. I want to, Mom, I’m just scared. You can understand that, right?”

“Okay, that’s a much better synopsis. I’m still apprehensive, but I love Graham, and I think you two would be very cute together. I wish you would calm down a little, take a little less responsibility for everyone else, and just let yourself be a teenager. But if this helps, I guess I’ll support it. But you have to tell Dad that you are dating the neighbor boy. He’s watched a lot of TV with me, and I’m sure that will make him nervous.” Mom winks at me. “Now, want to help me make dinner?”

“Absolutely.” I cradle the flowers and walk towards the kitchen.

“Maybe we should ask Nate to invite Graham,” Mom teases.

***

“I’m here!” Graham’s voice carries from the front entryway.Oh, jeez. Mom actually had Nathan invite him? I hope they don’t embarrass me too much.

I had helped my mom get dinner prepped and in the oven before going upstairs to listen to music and study. Okay, full disclosure—I am a bit of a menace in the kitchen so I do minimal amounts to prevent too much damage. My mom is a great cook. It turns out that’s not genetic. It’s okay. I’m good at other things like running and singing. I put away my books beforerushing down the stairs to see Graham hugging my mom in the kitchen.

“Graham! It’s great to see you.” Mom pulls back to look at him but keeps holding his arms.

“Aunty! Thanks for the invite. You know that I never turn down your delicious cooking. Now, what are we eating? How can I help?” Before she answers, he heads towards the dish cupboard. He has eaten here often enough that he knows where everything is, but he isn’t normally officially invited. He happened to be here and just hung around until after dinner. I could tell he knew this was different. He was in a green Henley shirt that looked amazing against his skin tone, not to mention was just tight enough to show off his biceps.Man, I really love biceps.He had left his hat at home, his dark hair wavy and gorgeous, wore a pair of nice shorts, and was barefoot. I assume he slipped his sandals—or as he calls them, slippers—off at the door once he came in. His dad is pretty particular about that. Everyone in Arizona wears shoes inside but not Graham, not Uncle Kai. You can take the man out of Hawaii but you can’t takeHawaii out of the man. Graham turns around, his hands full of plates and cups, makes eye contact, and winks. “Jules! What a great surprise!”

I snort and shake my head. “Yeah, don’t oversell it. Mom, where’s Nate?”

“Oh, you know, he had plans with Josh. It’s just the four of us. Oh! Like a double date.”

“Mom. No.”

“Who’s on a double date?” my dad asks loudly from behind me. He doesn’t mean to shout, he’s just boisterous. My dad knows people are afraid of him and he leans into it. There is nothing in his life that makes him happier than scaring people. I don’t get it, but whatever, it makes him happy. Who am I to yuck his yum? In reality, my mom, my tiny barely-five-feet mom, with a big smile and perfect mom hair, is the scary one. Theresa Pritchett is the nicest woman around, until she’s not. She has a mama bear hibernating in there, and there is nothing quite as terrifying as it coming out to hunt.

“Me and you, and Julia with Graham,” Mom explains.

“Graham?” His eyes narrow. “With Julia? My Julia? Since when?”

“Uh…” Graham’s face flushes and looks at me, obviously asking for help.

“Oh, no, I want to see this. Since when, Graham?” I say, taunting him.

“It’s not a date. Nate actually invited me but Aunty mentioned that he isn’t here. Maybe I should go?” He looks a little confused with my dad glaring at him. It isn’t very common for my dad to turn his prank on Graham but I’m thoroughly enjoying it.

“Oh, no. If you want to date my daughter, you are absolutely staying for dinner.” Dad walks over to him and grabs the back of Graham’s neck. He puts pressure on it, forcing him to walk, staying half a step behind him. He glances at me and winks,trying to otherwise keep a straight face. Graham finishes setting the table while I help my mom carry the food to the table from the counter.

“Do you like poppyseed chicken, Graham?” Dad asks, feigning casual conversation.

“Uhm, yes?” Graham could tell my dad was up to something but he couldn’t seem to put his finger on it. His eyes darted between the three of us, and I could see when he decided to relax. “Yes. I love it. Can I have a double scoop?”

“Good work, Julia. You’ve found someone who likes your cooking!” Dad congratulates me. I feel my face flush again.Is there something wrong with me? Why have I been blushing so much lately?Out of the corner of my eye, I see Graham fumble his fork.

“O-oh. Julia made this? That’s… well… uhm.” He eyes his overflowing plate warily. He takes a deep breath, grips his fork, and shovels a bite into his mouth. He closes his eyes and chews way faster than is necessary. Slowly, his face relaxes, and a smile spreads across his lips. “Youmade this?” he asks, looking at me with way more excitement than is necessary. Dad lets out a huge laugh, scaring Graham into dropping his fork again. Tears start streaming down Dad’s face. Graham looks confused, and Mom tries to hide the smile behind her hand.

“Ha ha.” I roll my eyes. “You mess up the salt and sugar in cookies one time, and you never hear the end of it.”

“One time?” Mom arches an eyebrow at me.

“Okay, fine. It might’ve been more than once, but still. That was years ago. I haven’t done that in a long time. I am growing in the kitchen.” Graham joins in laughing when Dad and Mom can’t hold it back any longer. “Fine, Graham, I didn’t make this. My mom did. I turned on the oven, opened a can or two, and crushed up the crackers. Happy? I still suck at cooking. But Icanmake a good batch of cookies.”

“Well, at least you didn’t burn anything this time!” Dad chortles. I make eye contact with Graham, clearly not pleased. His laughter awkwardly trails off. He clears his throat, compliments my mom on her cooking, and asks for seconds.

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