Page 15 of Any Second Now
“Well, goodb?—”
“I’ll meet you there.”
“Wait, why?”
But Atticus disappears around the other side of the Pink Palace and I wonder if he was an apparition that my mind created so I could disassociate from emptying the sewage tank. But after I carefully store the nasty sewage pipe bucket, wash my hands, and pull my car and trailer out of the dump station, there he is, casually leaning against the picnic table next to my campsite.
I turn around and back in, my hands sweaty as I maneuver the RV from the driver’s seat of my SUV, and am thankful that I get it on the first try and don’t run into the trees or the picnic table. Or the lake.
I flip down the visor and check myself out. Hair in a skinny ponytail, a swipe of mascara, and chapstick only.
Oh well. I’m not trying to impress this man.
“Hungry?” Atticus waves me over to the table after I hop out of my car. A pizza box now sits on the picnic table along with a bottle of wine.
“One second.” I hold up my hand and duck into the Pink Palace to wash my hands again. “Where’d this come from?” I say when I come back outside. He’s settled in at the picnic table, so I guess he’s not jumping in his car and driving away quite yet.
“Cheese sticks from a pizza place in town.” Atticus shrugs. “And wine.”
“Are we back at college?” A smile crosses my face at the memory of all the late nights eating cheese sticks together. One night when we were pre-partying in our apartment, he’d seen my weekly study schedule, printed out and tacked to our bulletin board. When he made fun of me for it, I pulled up his hockey stats for the last game—which were crappy so a real low blow on my part—and I offered to create a workout and practiceschedule for him. He chuckled and bought cheese sticks for the group that night, and did it basically every time we all went out together.
Atticus was always tagging along with me, Lucy, and January, even though I’m sure he got invited to so many frat and hockey parties. I pretended to roll my eyes, but I enjoyed the casual flirting between us. That delicious untouchable attraction to my best friend’s brother.
I slide onto the picnic table bench. He shrugs and flashes me a pearly white smile, settling down across from me.
“The wine’s a bit nicer than when we were at JMU. We don’t have to open it right now, since it’s barely two o’clock in the afternoon.”
“I’m more of a red wine drinker these days, but thank you. I’ll save it for the next time I have company over.”
“You have a lot of visitors?” Atticus raises his eyebrows.
“No. It’s called sarcasm.”
He blinks at me, a barely contained smile on his face. “And I wasn’t sure about what you drank, so I brought a red as well. This one’s from my mom’s vineyard. I order it by the case.” He pulls another bottle from the grass next to the picnic table along with a bottle opener. “I also brought you a cork screw. Just in case you didn’t have one in… the Pink Palace.”
“First of all, that’s amazing that this is your mom’s wine. Second, maybe it is okay to have a drink at two o’clock in the afternoon. I had a long drive, and you’re in the offseason.” I reach for the wine and the opener.
“I’m game. Have glasses?”
“I’ll go grab a few.” I let him open the bottle and I go grab two mismatched mugs from my mini-kitchen. “This is the best I got.”
I don’t tell him that I’ve had several bottles of wine over the past two weeks, but I’ve only been buying twist off, like the sophisticated lady that I am. I have no problem drinking it out of my JMU mug. “Anything else you got under the table?” I look pointedly at his reusable cloth bag.
He shakes his head and flips open the pizza box. The smell is delicious, and Atticus pushes the box toward me for first dibs.
This feels surprisingly normal. Sitting at my campsite with Lucy’s brother, six months after kissing him on New Year’s Eve. Seeing him is a lot less weird than I thought it would be. Because let’s be honest, I knew I’d see him if I showed up in Fort Collins. Even if—especially if?—Lucy wasn’t here when I arrived.
Which I knew she wouldn’t be.
We bite into the cheese sticks at the same time, and I moan.
“These are so good. I forgot they even existed.”
“Well, I don’t get them often because the team dietician isn’t the biggest fan of greasy food. But it’s summer, so.” He shrugs and gives me a sheepish smile.
“How’s your injury?” Lucy had told us all about Atticus hurting himself in the last game of the season. She said he was recovering fine and it wouldn’t affect him long-term.
He shrugs but his face tightens. “Fine. Good. Getting myself back in shape for the charity game in August.” Atticus reaches for his second rectangle of cheesy bread. He shoves the entire piece into his mouth and swallows disturbingly fast.
