Page 3

After one painful hour of awkward small talk and staring, everyone’s plates are empty and stomachs full. Mom suggests I take Laine upstairs to my room while she and Marissa have “after-dinner coffee,” a concept I’ve never quite understood. Thetime post-dinner should be when you wind down, right? Not the time to pump more caffeine into your body that’ll keep you up for hours.

Laine still hasn't said a word to me besides a few quiet “mhmms” followed by smiling nods, and by the time we reach my room, I’m stressing over what to say. I notice her eyes wander, taking in the clutter on the floor and posters covering every inch of my walls. I can tell she’s curious about me as she scans the room, probably silently judging my maximalist decor style.

“I like your room.” She says softly, but most likely out of cordial niceness.

“Thanks,” I say back, awkwardly rubbing my hand on my neck. “So what brought you back to Atlanta?”

“Oh, you know, the bustling film industry and the abundance of peaches everywhere.”

I pause, looking straight into her eyes. She must not remember living here, because there are definitely NOT peaches just rolling at our feet.

“The what?”

She lets a loose smile slip from her lips, returning my gaze.

So this girl is funny. Noted.

“I’m kidding. My dad’s work brought us back.” Her eyes tear away from my walls and fall back on me, suddenly going very serious.

As she says this, I remember her mom saying that her dad's work was practically giving them hell for moving back, but I decide not to push further.

“Who's this?” She picks up a picture of me and my friends.

I walk over and point to each person in the frame, reciting their names as my finger hovers over each one. “That's Tatum, Jared,and Greyson.”

“They look nice.”

When she turns her head to speak, I realize how close we’re standing. In an attempt to avoid any discomfort, I back away. Despite her seeming oddly comfortable with me, I don’t share the same feeling. I mean, we were eight when she left Georgia. How could she possibly remember me well enough not to feel as awkward as I do right now? “How was the plane ride over?”

It's a stupid question, but I'm desperate to fill the silence. I don't want her to realize how awkward I really am.

“It was good. I got a lot done on a project I’ve been procrastinating on for a while now.”

“What kind of project?”

“I’m creating a sort of statement piece. So far, I just have a rough sketch of a body, and I’m not entirely sure who she even is yet, but once I have more of a foundation for the piece, I’m planning on painting it on a bigger canvas.” Laine’s eyes glisten as she talks about her art. I’ve never seen someone so rawly passionate about something like this before. I can tell it’s a personal project solely from the way she lights up at the mere mention of it.

“Wow.” I breathe in, not knowing what else to say.

“It’s still fairly new, so I’m still finding my direction.”

“I’m sure it will be amazing! You seem very passionate about it, and passion is the first step of any goal, right?.”

Her smile grows wider, and she gives a slight nod of her head.

Just as I’m about to ask more about the painting, Marissa calls upstairs for Laine to gather her shoes and jacket to leave.

When we reach the front door, Laine stares at me, giving me the same soft smile as when she came in.

“See you around?” She nods.

I nod back, offering a smile back.

As I start heading back to my room to get ready for the night, my mom calls up to me, hanging around the banister at the bottomof the stairs.

“Drew! How did it go with Laine? Was she nice?”

I turn around. “Yeah, it went well, I guess. She was chill.”