Page 54 of Beyond the Lines (Pine Barren University #1)
“I’ve made some friends,” I say. “My old roommate Lea. Some girls on my floor, Marnie and Ping… but no boys worth mentioning.”
“Well,” Grandma Penelope says, raising her glass, “here’s to Louis finding someone who deserves him. And to Amélie—” she gives me a knowing look “—finding whatever it is she’s looking for, even if it takes her a little longer than she might have planned…”
As we clink glasses, my grandmother watches me over the rim of hers, those sharp eyes seeing more than I want her to. She knows I’m lonely and that, despite the trauma Derek left behind, some stubborn part of me still wants something like what Lea has.
I keep mostly quiet for the rest of dinner, which is very unusual and very hard to do for me. Louis notices, of course. We’ve been thick as thieves since childhood, the type of cousins who communicate through eyebrow movements and half-smiles, and he knows I don’t stop talking for anything.
When we finish dessert, Louis pushes back from the table. “Em and I are going for a walk to grab some frozen yogurt,” he announces.
“We are?” I say.
He nods. “We are.”
My mother frowns. “But I just served dessert.”
“A person can have two desserts, Aunt Madeline,” Louis says with the conviction of someone who mostly survives on pizza and protein bars.
“We’ll be back soon,” I add, already on my feet, excited by the prospect of escaping the well-meaning but suffocating family dinner.
Outside, the air carries the scent of blooming flowers that I’ve always associated with the end of winter and the start of spring. We walk in comfortable silence for half a block before Louis wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me into a hug.
“Sorry about Mom,” he says, squeezing me before releasing me. “She’s been like this since the breakup. It’s like she thinks Macey was the last girl on Earth or something, and it’s spilling over into her lamenting anyone —me, her, you—who’s single and ‘may never find true love.’”
I scrunch my nose. “Shouldn’t I be comforting you? You got dumped, after all…”
He dismisses this with a flick of his wrist. “Nah, I’m over it.”
“The breakup was last week.”
“And I’ve moved on.” He grins. “What can I say? I’m emotionally evolved.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Your phone still has her as a background picture.”
“I said we weren’t right, not that she wasn’t hot,” he argues.
I laugh. “OK.”
We reach the frozen yogurt place, a small shop with a neon sign and mismatched chairs. Inside, we load up our cups—Louis with every topping available while I meticulously separate mine into neat sections, and freak out just a little when the raspberry sauce mixes with the passionfruit coulis.
“Spill it,” Louis demands as we sit down, digging into his mountain of sugar. “You’ve got that look. The one where your brain’s going a million miles an hour but nothing’s coming out of your mouth, which is basically defying the laws of physics for you and might lead to an explosion.”
I take a deep breath. “I’m going to start dating,” I say, then quickly fill my mouth with more yogurt, to shut myself up.
Louis’s spoon freezes halfway to his mouth. A blob of chocolate-covered gummy bear slides off and lands with a plop on the table. “OK…”
“I’ve got a plan,” I say quickly, sensing his doubt. “A detailed, methodical, extremely well-thought-out plan with backup contingencies and emergency exits that would make a fire marshal weep with joy and?—”
Louis’s eyebrows climb toward his hairline. “Em?—”
“—I’ve watched Lea and Declan together, and yes, I know that’s weird, not watched watched them, but seen them interact, and while they make me want to projectile vomit sometimes with all their lovey-dovey crap?—”
“Em—”
“—there’s something kind of nice about it, and I’m tired of being alone with my pile of stuffed animals and my perfectly alphabetized Netflix queue and a choice of sushi or pizza on Uber Eats?—”
“EM!” Louis practically shouts, drawing looks. “Are you sure you’re ready? College guys aren’t exactly known for their emotional maturity.”
“That’s why I’m going to use dating apps, with my parameters set for guys over twenty-two.” I explain. “Meaning men with fully developed prefrontal cortexes who understand consent and don’t consider Axe body spray a substitute for a shower.”
“Dating apps.” Louis sighs. “For someone who’s never dated, that’s like learning to swim by jumping into the middle of the Atlantic.”
I wrinkle my nose. “That’s a bit dramatic.”
“It’s a baptism by fire, Em,” he insists. “Those apps are meat markets at best, cesspools at worst. Especially for someone with no experience.”
“I dated in high school,” I protest.
“One guy. Who turned out to be Satan incarnate.” Louis’s voice softens. “Look, I’m not saying you shouldn’t date. Just… maybe wait a bit longer. Graduate, meet some grown-ups in the real world.”
“That’s years away!” I stab my spoon into my yogurt, ruining the perfect arrangement I’d created. “So what’s your suggestion? Move to a convent? Become one of those women who collects ceramic cats and talks to her plants?”
“You already name your houseplants.”
“That’s not the point!” My voice rises with frustration. “I’ve spent years hiding. Years where I couldn’t even look at a guy without panicking. And now I finally feel like maybe— maybe —I could try again, and you’re telling me to wait?”
Louis reaches across the table and takes my hand. “I’m saying you shouldn’t rush into something, especially not with dating apps. Those things are designed to make you feel like shit about yourself, and the guys on there?—”
“Are the same guys who are in bars and coffee shops and everywhere else,” I finish for him. “At least online I can vet them first. Run background checks. Make sure they’re not on any sex offender registries.”
“You’re going to run background checks on your dates?”
“You think I wouldn’t?”
A reluctant smile tugs at his lips. “Fair point.”
I pull my hand away and fiddle with my spoon. “I get what you’re saying. I do. But Louis, I’m afraid that if I don’t try now, I never will. It’s like… it’s like when I was little and afraid to jump off the high dive. Remember that summer at camp?”
He nods. “You sat up there for two hours, calculating the exact angle of entry that would cause the least pain.”
“And the longer I sat there, the scarier it got.” I meet his eyes. “I’m sitting on that diving board again, Louis. I’m scared out of my mind, but I need to jump. I need to prove to myself that I can.”
Louis is quiet for a long moment, studying my face. I can practically see the gears turning in his head as he weighs my determination against his concern. Then, with a resigned sigh, Louis tosses his spoon into his empty cup and rests his elbows on the table.
“Fine,” he says. “I’ll stop playing overprotective cousin.”
I perk up. “Really?”
“One condition.” He holds up a finger. “I get to vet potential dates.”
I narrow my eyes. “Define ‘vet.’”
“Social media stalking.” Louis crosses his arms. “Make sure they’re not killers…”
“Killers have Instagram as well,” I protest.
He raises an eyebrow, and guilt twists in my stomach.
Louis was my rock during those dark days after Derek.
When I transferred to his private school in New York for my last two years of high school, he’d made sure no one messed with me, introduced me to his friends, and never once made me feel like the broken girl I thought I was.
I sigh dramatically. “Fine. But only because I was already planning to thoroughly investigate anyone remotely interesting on social media.”
“Deal.”
He seems to perk up at that. “Do you have anyone in mind?”
The question catches me off guard. For a split second, an image flashes in my mind: Linc Garcia in my stats class, his buzzed dark hair, green eyes, and the perpetual smirk that makes half the women on campus dissolve into giggling puddles.
I’ve caught myself watching him more than once, noting how he slouches in his chair but somehow still looks attentive, the way his t-shirts stretch across his shoulders, how he actually takes notes instead of playing on his phone like most of the other guys.
But Louis plays soccer at his university. He knows the hockey players from various intercollegiate athletic events, including Linc, and telling Louis I’m even remotely interested in a guy with Linc’s reputation would confirm every fear he has about me dating again.
“No one specific,” I lie. “Just keeping my options open.”
Louis doesn’t look entirely convinced. “Right.”