Page 10 of Begin Again
“Thank you,” Annie says, and Emily goes back to flirting with Landon.
“I’m so sorry about that,” she whispers to me a few minutes later. She’s staring down at her sandwich and won’t meet my eyes, her cheeks are still pink.
“It’s fine,” I tell her. “We are friends and she is obsessed with love, so she probably just wants you to date someone so that you two can double date or something.”
“I don’t date, and she knows that.”
“Why not?” I ask.
She glances at me then looks away. “I just don’t. I don’t want a relationship.”
“That’s fine,” I tell her as an ache I didn’t realize was there starts to grow bigger inside my chest. “But I am glad we’re friends.”
“Me too.”
I don’t think about her reaction as I finish my lunch. I definitely don’t think about how embarrassed she was from all of Emily’s teasing, instead, I remind myself over and over that she doesn’t want to date anyone, so all we can ever be is friends. Maybe someday I’ll believe it.
5
ANNIE
June 2011 - Annie is 15, Sam is 16
I pick up and put down my phone three times before I type out a text to Sam. I set my phone down before hitting send, hop off of my bed, and pace my small bedroom. I don’t know how much longer I can take sitting in my room. My mom just started dating a new guy who’s at our house all the time. Which I guess would be fine if Mom was here too, but she’s out with friends today so it’s just me and the boyfriend who gives me creepy vibes.
It’s not exactly an ideal afternoon. But Emily’s out of town and Noah’s at work. I think Sam is home, since his truck is in his driveway, but he and I haven’t ever hung out alone before. We’re always with Noah, Emily, or one of Sam’s sisters.
I grab my phone and send the text before I can lose my nerve.
Me
Can I come over today? I need to get out of the house.
We’re friends. Friends hang out. It shouldn’t feel like a big thing, but I feel weird, texting only Sam and not having Noah around. That’s the only reason.
He texts me back almost right away.
Sam
Sure! I’m not doing anything though.
I’ll be over in five. And that’s fine.
I busy my mind by grabbing one of my canvas bags and look around the room to find something I can put in there. My gaze lands on the two cookbooks I just got from the library yesterday andLittle Women, the book I’ve been reading again this week. I stuff them both in my bag, reassuring myself I’ll feel more comfortable reading at Sam’s house than staying here with Mom’s creepy boyfriend.
I open my bedroom door slowly, because I don’t want to talk to the boyfriend if I can help it. The TV is blasting at full volume and I breathe a sigh of relief. I quietly shut my bedroom door and tiptoe down the hallway and slip out the back door.
The summer air is hot and a little muggy, and just like usual, it smells like cows. It always smells like cows here on summer afternoons. I take in a big, stinky breath before walking across our weed-filled yard and into Sam’s perfectly manicured yard. I’ve seen his mom and sisters working out in their garden in the mornings and wonder what it would be like to have a mom who cared about anything but herself.
I walk to the back of the house where Sam’s room is and I tap on the window. He is lying on his bed with headphones in. He pulls them out and he hops up, looking at me in surprise. Because I probably should have gone to the front door like a normal person. He slides the window open and pops out the screen.
“Hey,” I say normally, as if me crawling through his bedroom window is a normal occurrence. But this is so different from our normal.
“Noah working today?” he asks and I nod. When Noah has been at work this summer, I’ve spent my time hanging out with Sam—but always with one of his younger sisters. Amelia is twelve and Jodi is seven, so generally we play board games with them, but it’s never been just the two of us.
“I was just watching some videos on YouTube about guys who travel and make videos about it,” he says as he plops down on one side of the bed. I cautiously sit on the other, since his queen bed takes up most of the room and there is nowhere else to sit. I’ve never been alone with him in his room before, let alone on his bed.
I glance at the closed door. “Will your parents care that I’m in here?”
