Page 42

THIRTY-FIVE

ruby

We have my dad’s boat back before dawn. In a surprise twist, Lorenzo suggests leaving it unwashed, the kind of fuck you that would really get Richard’s panties in a bunch.

But I insist we go through my father’s stupid cleaning checklist, and since my parents spent the night at the hotel, there’s no rush.

The idea of being difficult just for the sake of irritating them has lost its appeal.

As the sun comes up, we walk Lakeside in our rumpled clothing, retracing well-worn paths: Central Street with its cheesy gift shops and overabundance of coffee joints, our neighborhood playground, the hulking nature preserve that buffered our high school campus from the lake.

I’m reminded, as we tour our childhood, how foundational the feeling of longing once was for me.

Longing for my parents’ attention, longing to break free of this town, longing for Lorenzo.

Some wishes do come true. It’s bittersweet to overlay those aching memories with this one today, Lorenzo’s arm under my fingers, the feel of his warm gaze on me like he can’t resist looking.

Could I have saved myself from all that hurt if I’d stopped trying to run from who I was?

On the far side of the nature preserve, we emerge from the woods onto a pebbled stretch of shoreline and a narrow wooden pier.

“I haven’t been here in years,” I say.

Lorenzo turns to me. “You think it’s still there?”

“What’s still there?”

His eyes widen like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “How do you not remember my first act of vandalism?”

“You?” I scoff. “Never!”

“I can’t believe you don’t remember.”

“Where?”

“Come on.” He takes my hand and walks us down to the end of the pier. The old boards creak and shift under our feet. “Not jogging any memories?”

“Nope.”

“Okay, then get down on your knees.”

I smirk. “Lorenzo, if you want your dick sucked, just ask.”

“I don’t,” he says quickly, then smiles.

“I mean, I do, obviously. But see if you can restrain yourself until after our trip down memory lane.” He lowers himself onto his belly, his head over the edge of the pier, and I follow obediently, careful to avoid splinters.

“There.” He taps the front edge of the last wooden plank on the pier, and there it is, carved into the weathered wood: “Ruby” in bold, rough block letters and next to it the single letter L .

The memory comes flooding back, a gray winter day, the two of us no more than ten, leaning over the pier just like this while the wind whipped ice-cold lake water into our faces.

I’d gone first, carving with an old nail we’d wrenched from a plank, and then handed the nail to Lorenzo.

He’d only gotten that first letter in before we heard voices from the woods and Lorenzo scrambled to his feet, afraid we’d get in trouble.

“God, we were so bored in this town,” I say.

Lorenzo sits up and leans against the thick wooden post at the edge of the pier. “I wasn’t. You dragging me into all kinds of trouble? I was too scared to be bored.”

I sit against the opposite post and stretch my legs out so they’re parallel to his. “Maybe in the beginning. By the time we hit high school, the student had surpassed the teacher.”

He gives a cocky smile. It’s a rare look on his face. “I don’t know. I never learned to say what was on my mind like you did.”

Did. Not so much anymore. I swallow hard as a memory hits me: that day I told Lorenzo we might not end up in the same city after graduation—when I pretended it didn’t completely crush me to think that way. When I hurt him. “Lorenzo?”

“Yeah?”

“Next year . . .”

“What about it?”

“I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

He shrugs. “Nobody does.”

“But if I could have one wish, it would be to stay close to you. And if I ever made you think otherwise, I’m sorry.”

His gaze is locked on mine, his expression solemn, like that was the last thing he expected me to say. Then he looks out over the water, his chest rising with a deep breath. When he looks back at me, his eyes are determined. “I want you to be all in with me, Ruby.”

I stare at him in surprise. “I am.”

“I mean you and me together.”

My heart beats a little faster. “What does that mean?”

“Believe that when I say things, I mean them.” He wraps his fingers around my ankle, then slides them slowly up to my knee. “I know we can’t predict where either of us’ll end up after graduation, but ... we want the same thing, don’t we?”

The words are scary in my head, but somehow they come easily to my lips. “To be together.”

“It’s okay to hope for it.”

With these simple words of permission, I let myself hope for it. For the first time, I let the hope that’s sat at the base of my throat, threatening to choke me, rise up and take over. This could really work. It already does.

I crawl the few feet that separate us, not caring anymore about splinters, and lower myself onto his lap.

He pulls me close, wrapping those strong arms around my back like he never wants to let me go.

Being close to Lorenzo feels like coming back to the home I always wished for.

I slide my hand under his shirt and along his warm skin until I find the place where the fox tattoo sits, pulsing in time with his heartbeat.

This is happiness . The freedom to say what I feel, to be what I am, to be loved not in spite of my messiness but because of it. He loves me.

“So we’re together.” I try out the words, then flush at the pleasure of them.

“We’re together.”

“Do we tell people?”

“They’re gonna figure it out when we’re kissing all over campus.”

“You’d do that? Lorenzo ‘No PDA’ Rossi?” I tease.

“Well ...” He crooks his elbow around my neck and pulls me in to kiss my head. “With you.”

“So we tell our friends. What about our parents?”

His brow creases, and he starts to open his mouth, but I cut him off.

“Actually, no. It’ll just be another reason for my parents to give me shit for being impulsive. And we can’t tell yours because they’ll tell mine.”

“I won’t.” Lorenzo scowls. “But fuck what your parents think. Look at us, Ruby—thank fucking god you’re impulsive. That’s what got us here. That’s why I love you.”

His smile is so warm, so full of admiration, I feel like I could burst. And he’s right. I won myself the only thing I want with my whole heart.