Page 34

I tense up for a second and then let out a long breath before draining the rest of my juice. Just the thought of my post-secondary situation makes me wish the drink was spiked with something stronger.

“It’s…a whole thing,” I say once I’ve set my glass down hard enough to rattle the half-melted ice cubes left at the bottom. “The plan was always for me to go straight from high school to an internship with my mom’s company, but then as the company grew and got more complex, we decided I should still do the internship to get a feel for things and then go get a business degree so I can help my mom run things someday.”

I wrap my fingers around the edge of the island and squeeze hard, waiting for her to ask me a thousand questions I don’t have the answers to.

Nick and his friends never asked anything about my long-term goals. They didn’t care about degrees and internships, but somewhere along the way, I realized most of them didn’t care about anything else either. That townhouse we lived in was like a revolving door of people looking for a good time. In and out and in again. All of us just seeking a distraction. All of us replaceable and easy to forget.

I was back in that Goldilocks story again: running from someone who wanted too much into the arms of people who wanted too little.

She might be shy on the surface, but something tells me Naomi is the kind of girl who wants a lot—who deserves a lot from the people around her. She’s smart as hell, responsible enough to be the poster girl for teenage safety, and so dedicated to everything she does that even losing Sandy’s cats for all of twenty minutes had her ready to dissolve into a puddle of shame.

On top of all that, the way she looks at me when I’m speaking makes me feel like she hears me—really hears me—in a way I’ve been craving for so much longer than I realized. Plus, she’s hilarious in this quiet and watchful way I’ve never seen in anyone else before.

In short, she seems like the kind of girl you’d better be ready to work your ass off to be worthy of.

“Oh. So is that…still what you want to do?”

“That’s the plan,” I answer, my voice coming out terser than I meant.

She winces. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you.”

I shake my head, plastering on a smile so she knows my mood has nothing to do with her. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. It’s just…stressful to even think about it, you know?”

She slumps back in her chair and lets out a chuckle that’s got a slightly manic tinge to it. “Oh, that I know. I can barely even think about September without feeling like I’m going to puke.”

Now I’m laughing too. “Sounds about right.”

“I should probably be embarrassed to tell you that,” she adds, “but yeah, stressed out is a complete understatement for how I feel about starting university in less than two months.”

I make a show out of cringing. “Don’t even remind me of the timeline. We should just vow to not speak of it at all.”

She sighs. “I don’t know if that would help, but anything is worth a try at this point.”

I lean over the island, all the joking fading from my tone. “So let’s do it then. For the rest of my time here, we will not utter the names of Carleton University or Valerie Madden Pilates Studios. There will be this summer and this summer only. Our prime directive in life will be completing your bucket list and nothing else.”

She taps the edge of the island and frowns. “But I still have so much to prepare, and—”

I hold up a finger and wag it at her.

“Ah ah ah. We do not speak of it. Do what you must in your own time, but when it’s you and me, we are in the summer zone only.”

She blinks at me, her lips parting as the weight of what I’ve just said settles over us both.

You and me.

Just three words, but in an order that links us together in a way that almost makes me believe I could grab those two strings representing our futures and tie them in a knot.

I realize I’m holding my breath and let it out in a sharp burst.

“And Priya and Shal,” I add. “Of course.”

Her shoulders jerk like I’ve shocked her before she drops her gaze to the slab of marble between us and bobs her head in a few nods. “Of course.”

My heart is racing, and I know I need a distraction before I do or say anything else too stupid to take back. I whirl around and spot the drugstore bag sitting on the counter.

“So, uh, in the spirit of all things summery and reckless,” I say as I walk over to grab the bag before turning to face her with it swinging from my wrist, “do you want to help me dye my hair purple?”

CHAPTER 9