Page 3 of Falling Backwards
“Mmm,” I hum in agreement.The pretzel bites come with a beer cheese dip that’s pretty good.
Joy looks over the menu wordlessly but not motionlessly.She tends to do a little decision dance when she’s mulling over options, food-related or otherwise.It can be a side-to-side step, or a willowy wiggle, or a cha-cha sort of thing.Right now, she’s moving her shoulders up and down to the music playing from the ceiling.
Oh, hey, it’s the song from when Kat and Patrick have their paintball fight on10 Things I Hate About You.
“We need to watch this movie again soon,” Emma remarks as that exact thought forms in my head.
Joy doesn’t pause her decision dance or even take her eyes off the menu, just adds a nod to her shoulder movements.“Sure do!”
“Yep,” I say.“Em, you’re due for some drooling over Heath Ledger.”
She turns her eyes heavenward.“Ah, His Gorgeousness.Rest in peace, my love.”
Joy and I chuckle, but she exchanges a knowing look with me.Celebrities and fictional guys are the only ones Emma truly speaks fondly of, and while it can get pretty funny, we wish the root of it could be tended to.She claims to be fine with only having casual physical things with real-life guys, and we think that’s true to an extent, but weknowshe deserves closure from the heartache she went through a few years ago—the heartache she still carries with her, tucked away beneath her tough exterior.She deserves the chance to be fully happy and to not have to be guarded.
But we don’t bring it up.We typically try to let her come to us with anything involving Graham.Plus, there’s also no doubt that after her workday, thinking about him would put her in a terrible mood, which would put us in one too.So no.
Instead, Joy says, “Okay, you two, look at this menu!”She puts it in the middle of the table where Emma and I can both see it.
Before I can read the first thing on the list, I feel again like I’m being looked at.
This time, I glance up and slightly to the right, towards a good chunk of the room, to see if I’m imagining….
Ugh.
My stomach does the weird thing it often does, for one reason or another, when I’m around Luke: part twist and part leap and part fall.
Of course, all he does is blink at me from across the way, looking as cool as ever where he and Paxton are in a booth like ours on the next wall.
His dark hair is a cool, slightly curly mess on his head.
I know his eyes are a cool, misleadingly pleasant shade of blue.
His expression, the way he’s relaxed against the wall with his forearm on the table, and the pushed-up long sleeves of his dark shirt are all cool.
But no matter how he looks, I know he’s not excited to see me, becauseI’mnot excited to seehim.It has been a mutual feeling since I started working with him at Lucent ten months ago.
We may have spent several post-high-school years happily doing our own things, determined to leave the mess of us in the past, but nothing zombifies old hostility like having to be near the person who wounded you.
“I’d ask who Maggie’s looking so hard at,” comes Emma’s amused voice, “but why bother?”
I pull my gaze back to my own business and the menu I’m supposed to be studying.
“Sorry,” I say.
“Nah,I’msorry to interrupt.You and Bramhill like to try to glare each other into ash, and you know I’m always rooting for you to figure out how to win.”
Joy giggles.
After a moment, I let a smile through.
“Okay, well…” I refocus on our food choices, “…snacks….”
By the time our server comes with our drinks, we’ve decided on mozzarella sticks and the pretzel bites with cheese dip, plus a side of mustard for me.We place the order and then start sipping.
Ah,yes.Mojito with extra lime.My favorite.
The girls audibly feel the same way about their margaritas—original for Emma, raspberry for Joy.
