Page 25 of Most Likely to Match
“It’s okay if all this takes a lot out of you,” I say.
“It doesn’t,” she snaps.
I hold up my hands, letting her have this one. It’s so strange to be with a person you knew once. I am getting to know her again but also feel like I never stopped knowing her. Chloe always hated to be told she couldn’t do something, like needing a break or admitting she could use more time is a mark on her character.
This immediate jump to anger and defensiveness is new to me, though.
“Sorry,” she mutters. “It’s just…” She shakes her head, and for a moment I think I catch the glint of tears in her eyes. “Am I doing enough? Is this…” She gestures to the event happening around us. “Enough to turn things around?” She bites her lower lip and avoids eye contact. “This can’t fail,” she says, almost to herself. “Ican’t fail.”
“I’m not you,” I say. “I can’t talk about your business the way you can. But I can talk about dating and why coaching can be helpful. You brought me here to speak to this, so, you know…” I shrug. “Let me off leash.”
Chloe inhales a deep, chest-expanding breath. The hair at her temples and around the base of her neck has started to frizz in the evening humidity, and I make fists to stop myself from smoothing the strands down. I pluck at my own t-shirt, damp with sweat. “Go inside,” I say. “Cool off. Grab some food, and if you can bring me back something, that’s great. I’m not picky.”
I don’t know what it’s like for her to be back here, but for obvious reasons, I’d prefer not to have to wander around my old high school again.
“And maybe after a bit of a break and something to eat, all of this won’t feel like so…much.”
She looks off into the crowd. “Okay. Okay,” she says, mostly to herself. She grabs a tote bag that she shoved beneath the booth, hooking it over her shoulder, and starts to walk away. Before she gets far, she stops and faces me. “Thanks.” Her voice, her face sincere. She turns to leave in earnest.
I don’t watch the way the light fabric of her dress clings to her back and her ass or the strain in her strong calf muscles as she walks away. But only just.
It takesan hour before the first pinprick of worry sets in. We never agreed on a return time, and it’s not like I’m annoyed. I’m glad she’staking the time she needs. After half an hour, I thought I’d better not see her anytime soon. Forty-five minutes in, I was glad she took what I’d said seriously. But after an hour, I started to wonder if maybe something had gone wrong. Maybe she tried to find peace and quiet in her car and ended up passing out from the heat. If we hadn’t gone to this school, I’d have guessed she’d gotten lost; the English department can spin you in circles, but she knows her way around. She was part of student council. She was one of the girls who ran this school once upon a time, for better or for worse.
I don’t want to go wander around the school again and let memories hit me like the hockey team captain’s punches to my gut, but I will if she’s not back in another fifteen minutes.
I shut my eyes. Mostly for a moment of reprieve from the sun’s blinding rays as it sets across the field, dipping behind the tree line that students used to head toward to smoke weed in privacy. But also to chastise myself. It’s easier, better, not to think of Chloe that way, as who she was or used to be.
The field has gotten busier, yet fewer and fewer people are stopping in to talk to me. I’d say it was because the event organizers are setting up for the silent disco, but mostly, I think it’s because Chloe isn’t here, with her welcoming smile and a kind comment. She has an ease I hadn’t anticipated or remembered, a read on people that I’m— if I’m perfectly honest— jealous of.
Maybe if I’d had a similar skill, what happened between us wouldn’t have happened.
“Fuck,” I mutter to myself, except it’s a bit louder than I intend, and the person walking past the booth actually skitters away. Fuck again.
I grimace and call it a smile. “Sorry.”
Thisis why I don’t want to talk about it. Because it will make me maudlin and mopey, and what does it really serve? It won’t change anything.
“Hey,” Chloe says, bounding up to me with a level of energy I haven’t seen from her in hours, matched by the brightness of her smile.
“Hey.”
“Going well?” she asks without looking at me. She straightens the few postcard pamphlets we have left and adjusts the retractable banner with the logo and QR code. Before I can muster up an answer— that honestly shouldn’t be this hard— she says, “So we can start taking stuff down now, they said.”
She provides no explanation of whotheyare.
“Oh, and here’s your food.” She pulls a takeout box that smells like pulled pork from a tote bag hanging off her wrist. “I’ll take stuff down and you eat.” She nods at the chair parked behind the booth.
“I can help,” I say, though my stomach grumbles at the same time, and Chloe ignores me anyway.
The food is good, still-warm pulled pork tacos with pickled onions, avocado, and cotija cheese. I eat in that way I’d usually reserve for when I’m alone. The same way my dad eats when he has to fend for himself for dinner: fast, messy, usually standing over the sink.
My stomach feels heavy and full when I’m done, and I’m glad Chloe let me leave my short-sleeved knit cardigan in her car. The humidity adds another level of discomfort.
I put myself to work even though she grumbles at me about it and even though I’m not much taller than her and have to stand on tippy toes to reach the lock at the top of the telescopic bar holding up the Core Cupid banner.
As I reach for it, I look at her, maybe out of self-consciousness. Which is stupid. She knows I’m short. I’ve always been short. But whatever I was expecting to see on her face, it’s not this. The look in her eyes is intense, hungry, as she tracks the strip of skin exposed by my t-shirt as I reach for the top of the banner. I’m so surprised I lose my balance, taking a step back on my flat-top sneakers, and both of us look pointedly away this time as I successfully close the rod.
The sun has fully set by the time we’ve packed everything into the trunk of her car. Movement has eased the discomfort of scarfing down food too fast, and with the evening air finally cooling off, I’m suddenly energized, even though it’s nearing ten p.m.
