Page 1 of Delayed Intention

Prologue

Maybe I’m drunk.

Can I be drunk from half a screwdriver?

Closing my right eye and narrowing my gaze on the yellowish drink, I clink the ice in the glass, looking for answers.

I have no idea if it’s possible, but what is true is I don’t feel like myself, which is such a good idea right now.

A laugh slips out of my mouth, which has to look crazy because I’m in the middle of a reception, having an open conversation with my beverage.

Slapping a hand over my mouth, I look around, only to realize no one is noticing me.

Cool . It’s all good.

I take another sip. The taste is okay, but it’s the effect that is awesome.

Tonight I was braver than I’ve ever been, walking right up to the bartender and asking for a drink.

The only thing was, I wasn’t ready when he asked what I wanted, which led to a moment of panic, and I nearly ran away.

Instead, I ordered this screwdriver, because I remembered it’s made with orange juice, which I like.

The relief this drink is giving me is so necessary. This year has been a piece of crap so far, and the alcohol feels like a magic potion that can heal my wounds.

Looking around the country club, I try to spot my best friend, but I can’t see anything.

The room is dark except for the pulsing fluorescent DJ lights that shoot beams of smoky color across the faces of the dancers.

There’s a loud hum of multiple voices talking at once.

I feel dizzy watching people dancing in wild circles around the bride.

On the way over from the ceremony, I heard my brothers say that this country club we’re in is one that banned Jews from joining in the past. But here we are, bunches of us, dancing without care in this crusty old club.

I don’t know if what my brothers said was true or not, but thanks to the effects of my screwdriver, the idea seems funny to me now. I giggle, thinking about it.

I love this place. Not the club so much as the town. Lincoln is one of my favorite places in the world because when I’m here, I don’t have to think about home or what goes on there. I have nothing to worry about right now.

I physically shake myself off.

Where’s Josh?

He’d gone to the bathroom and left me here to fend for myself. He’d said he would be right back…

Joshua Cohen .

Goosebumps break out on my arms as I think about how much he means to me. I mean, we’ve been best friends since we were born. But from the second I could recognize him as the total hottie he is, I’ve had the worst crush on him. Secretly, of course.

I scan the room for him again. There are so many people here that I don’t know.

My aunt’s wedding is her second one, and you’d think it would be a small event, but nope, there are hundreds of people here.

I usually feel more afraid around strangers, but I’m so happy not to be back home; it’s not bothering me the way it normally does.

Besides, no one is paying any attention to me.

I have no idea where my parents are, which is so great.

This is my time. My time to have fun. To not think about… anything that hurts.

Josh materializes right in front of me, grinning when I yelp in surprise.

“What’s up, Lily?”

“Nothing.” I rattle the ice in my glass in front of his face.

He smirks at me. “Did you get juice?”

I shake my head. “A screwdriver,” I say with pride.

“No way,” I can tell he doesn’t believe me as he snatches my drink and takes a big gulp. Instantly, his eyes grow wide in surprise. I start laughing so hard I snort before I take the screwdriver back.

“Told you.” I take a sip, trying to hide my grimace at the taste.

His eyes are watering as he coughs before he starts to look serious. “Let’s get out of here—go back to my house?”

“Yeah, sure. Do you want us to bring anything?”

His smile wavers, and he seems as though he’s embarrassed—presumably for me. Stick with me, Josh; I can keep embarrassing myself all night.

“Um… No need to bring anything. But who is us ?”

“Tamar and Joe and everyone,” I say, naming two of my siblings.

Josh gives me a strange look. “I mean, you can tell them, if you want, but I thought maybe we’d hang out?” He shrugs. “You know, just us?”

My heart melts when he’s like this—a little like he’s shy, which is crazy because he’s so confident. Of course, my heart melts for him for just about any reason. Then it hit me, what he’d said.

“Oh. Just me?”

My face must have blanched because Josh appeared alarmed for a second. Before he can change his mind, I blurt, “The two of us, yeah, that’d be cool.”

“Okay. Let’s go.” He still has a funny expression… maybe from the alcohol. I leave it behind on a table as we head out the door.

The night feels warm but pleasant as we set out together for his house.

There’s no breeze, but the air is lacking the awful humidity we have back home in D.C.

We follow along a winding driveway that leads from the clubhouse, leaving the sounds of laughter and drunkenness behind in exchange for a chorus of a thousand crickets.

Walking down the dark road, there’s nothing but sky and flat fields as far as my eyes can see.

What would look like brown and gold grasses in the light just appears to be an endless smudge of dark green until it meets a sudden wall of stars.

The walk will take at least half an hour, but I don’t care.

I’m just happy we’re together. We aren’t talking much, which is kind of how this summer has been.

It’s mostly been fun, with a bit of awkwardness on the daily.

I mean I’ve had a bunch of crap in my mind I’m trying hard not to think about, and Josh has his drama.

His parents have split up, and I heard his mom complaining to my grandmother that Josh’s dad isn’t doing much to stay in touch, even with Josh and his sister.

As much as my parents, especially my mom, are kind of terrible, I’m glad neither of them up and abandoned me.

Although I’m ashamed to say, sometimes, when I’ve made my mother angry, I’ve wished she’d disappear.

That’s the kind of secret I can tell Josh.

He knows my parents and understands how I feel.

There are some thoughts I do keep from him, though.

The big one is that I want to marry him and live happily ever after.

I have other secrets; who doesn’t? One is so ugly—I don’t think I could ever tell him.

In fact, I don’t talk about it with anyone. Nope, not going to think about that…

I’ve decided this summer that when something unspeakable happens to me, and I don’t want it to be true, I have the right to push that memory out and rewrite my history.

This thing that’s happened is already a done deal, so the best thing I’ve figured out is to wish it away.

When I try hard enough, I can pretend it’s not something real, like it’s a story about someone else.

I mean, I tried to tell my mom the truth about what was going on at the time, and she didn’t believe me, so now…

I’m not going to believe me either. Problem solved.

Back in the now, Josh’s walking alongside me, and I sigh, wishing I could be the kind of girl Josh would be into; that I could just take his hand.

He’s so hot. Even though he’s only a year older than me, his sixteen years feels so much older than my fifteen.

He has wavy, brown hair, tall—but not too tall, muscular shoulders, and perfectly sculpted legs.

He has the most brilliant blue eyes I’ve ever seen.

I could stare into his eyes for hours. He’s the most magnificent combination of casually and classically handsome.

And his smile. God, when he smiles, I swear my breath halts in my chest. He’s relaxed with himself in a way that makes me weak in the knees.

But it’s been imperative that I hide my real feelings. If he knew, it could cost me our friendship. A guy like him is never going to go for someone like me. And the fact is, I don’t have many friends. He’s the only best friend I’ve ever had. I don’t want to ruin that with feelings.

In my bedroom, I’ve got posters of Jack White and Ryan Gosling on my walls.

The posters are there as a cover because my one true crush has always been Josh.

Honestly, I don’t find anyone else attractive.

I keep a picture of him in my nightstand drawer—taped underneath the top so my stupid siblings don’t find it and tease me.

Or worse, tell Josh. I’d die if that happened.

The picture is of the two of us at my bat mitzvah.

I’m in a tea-length forest green dress, and he’s standing next to me, smiling, looking like a runway model.

Of course, I have my eyes closed in the picture, which is so me.

My hair was awful, straightened, only to be put up in a beehive, courtesy of my mother.

She insisted I would look back on my photos and appreciate “a classic look.” That day has not arrived.

Finally, we arrived at Josh’s house. He unlocks the side door, and we head inside. It’s kind of weird to be here without any adults at home, and I feel a flutter in my belly. Maybe it’s just the effect of the drink I abandoned at the reception.

It’s so quiet that when he speaks, I jump.

“I’m going to find us something to drink—go on and head to my room?”

“Okay, sure.”

I walk to the back, where Josh’s room is, and kick off my flats.

He walks in with a small brown bottle and two shot glasses.

“Can I borrow something that isn’t a sundress?”

As his eyes travel up and down my body, I feel a heat rise in my neck and ears under his gaze. He clears his throat.

“Yeah, of course,” he puts down the glasses and bottle and rummages in his dresser for a T-shirt and sweats.

“Here.” He hands me a Grateful Dead T-shirt and navy sweats.

“Thanks.” I grabbed the clothes and went into his bathroom to change, leaving my sundress hanging on the hook on the back of the door.