Page 82 of Tides That Bind

He turns on the engine. “I almost didn’t wear a monkey suit. You didn’t have to get dressed up.”

I look down at Riley’s navy suit, remembering the pants from Nate’s funeral. With his cast now gone, he’s able to pair them with the jacket.

But he doesn’t have a tie.

“Are you into the open collar look?” I ask.

“I’m into thenocollar look.” Riley laughs before admitting, “I’m stuck with the shirt but I don’t have a tie.”

He’s about to go into Reverse when I reach out, putting myhand on his that holds the gear shift. "Wait a second. I'll be quick."

I dash back into the house and up to my room, pulling out a box from beneath the bed. I hate to make a mess of these things—ofNate’sthings—that I set aside for Lucas, but I’ll put everything back together again later.

Running out to the car, I head to Riley’s door and open it. I hold up the tie. “Turn and face me.”

I can tell by the way Riley’s eyes linger on what I hold that he recognizes the tie and I expect him to object.

But he unclips his seatbelt and turns to let his legs dangle out of the car and lifts his chin, fastening the rest of the buttons before lifting the collar of his shirt. When I drape the tie around his neck, I’m careful with my movements. I avoid touching him.

That’s because I remember in the studio how he touched me. I think about the night in the hallway when heheldme. And maybe there wasn’t anything more to it than innocence and it’s my painful loneliness making it into something it’s not.

But after I fasten the knot at his neck, I can’t help myself from reaching out and patting the fabric against his chest. And my hand can’t seem to not linger against him for an extra few seconds.

“There,” I say. “Now you’re perfect.”

“I guess I’m on par with you.”

I freeze in my seat.

“I meant, being all dressed up,” he clarifies.

“I guess it’s like a graduation. I’m sure your family didn’t show up to your college or law school graduation wearing sweatpants.”

Riley stays silent as he pulls onto the street.

“Caroline doesn’t even wear leggings on her way to work out,” I tell Riley. For sure he knows this. “She changes at the gym and before she leaves. Don’t tell me—”

“They didn’t come to any of my graduations,” Riley tells me. “To be fair, I didn’t go so there wasn’t much point.”

I turn in my seat. “What do you mean youdidn’tgo? Why?”

I imagine, if I didn’t get my GED and went to high school, or if I went on to college, I’d want to celebrate that kind of accomplishment.

Riley pulls down his black wayfarers from the cupholder. “Didn’t really care to sit through a four-hour ceremony in college or law school. Nate was mad I skipped it.”

“I bet he was. You should’ve gone. We both would’ve come.”

He turns, peeking over the rims of his sunglasses so I can see his eyes. “Would you really?"

Pressing my lips together, I look at the posterboard. “I would’ve gone because Nate wanted me to,” I answer honestly. “But today, I’m coming becauseIwant to.”

“You sure it was all correct?”I scan the form while an impatient clerk waits for me to hand it over. I don’t know whose idea it was to make the standard font size on any and all official applications a size ten.

“Yes. I looked over it twice.”

I tap my finger against the paper before sliding it through the gap in the glass partition. The clerk snatches it before it fully leaves my fingertips.

“Take this.” She hands me a slip. “And head to room nine.”

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