Page 90 of Cherry Picking
But it’s out there.
Griffin says my name, and when I turn, there he is: a hand gripping the back of my neck, and his mouth claiming mine for a quick kiss that leaves me red-faced and wanting more.
“Thank you,” he whispers at the same time Parker spits out an, “ew.”
The evening plays on with lawn chairs in the backyard, everyone decked out in pajamas—Cam in ones Mom loans her, and an array of gingerbread and peppermint snacks and hot chocolate flavorings.
Presents were done in the afternoon, but now there’s two freshly wrapped ones with Griff’s sister’s name on them.
One is most definitely from my Mom, still being cheeky and embarrassing.
The other is picked up by Parker, who holds it out to her once we’re all seated.
She takes it with a sweet smile and unwraps it slowly, revealing a little stuffed bat with random bits of fabric and other miscellaneous craft objects glued and sewn around it.
“I didn’t have a lot of time,” he starts, scratching at his nape. “So I repurposed some things I had lying around. Figured you deserved something for showing up on our doorstep and having to deal with our brothers.”
Everyone around the firepit laughs, but woven through the bat I spot a familiar tie-dyed style fabric. Pink, blue, and white all swirled together.
It reminds me of a silly little sweat rag Matty used to carry around everywhere, especially when he was rehearsing.
Come to think of it, the last time I saw him with it would have been when he stayed with us a few summers back.
Not that it matters. Matty and all of his memorabilia are long gone.
That is until Camry turns it over and I spy the little silver initials that blend through the white and blue.
M.N
Matty Nichols.
I couldn’t tell you what comes over me then. It’s like a bottle that’s been sitting on the shelf is picked up and shaken with the lid torn off and directed straight at me.
It burns, and it itches, and it seeps beneath my skin until there’s no clawing it out.
“What did you do?” I ask, an uncontrollable quake and rasp to the words.
“I made our guest a present … duh.” Parker looks at me with his face scrunched and a scoff on his tongue that frees my own from where I’ve been biting it back.
“That wasn’t yours.” I point to the fabric, and he frowns.
“You must have left it here at some point.” He shrugs. “Sorry. It ended up in my art desk. I didn’t know it was yours.”
Just like you never knew Matty was mine.
I stand up abruptly and hold my hand out in front of Camry. “Could I see that for a second?”
Her eyes dart from Parker, to her brother, to me, and then gingerly hands it over. I’m gentle with it, because it’s a gift and it isn’t mine. Not most of it.
I thrust it into Parker’s hands. “Take it off.”
“What?”
“The tie-dye fabric. Take it off. Use something else.”
“No way.” Parker steps back. “It’s been here for god knows how long. You can’t care about it that much.”
“I can, and I do.” My voice cracks. All eyes are on me, but I can’t look at anyone else. “It belonged to Matty. You had no right to mutilate it like that.”
