Chapters (31)
Before I know it it’s ten o’clock, and we’re able to go back to the house. We wash the teacups and put them in the cupboard next to the canisters and the little jar of rock sugar. And even though they don’t all match, they actually look really pretty together in our cupboard.
AIDEN
My parents finally noticed that my car was missing. I knew it would be those damn lawn chairs that gave me away. I had gotten a text from my mom while Olivia and I were out. She was irate, thinking I was driving around town half-blind. When I got home Dad smacked the table, telling my mom, “Yes! I told you I saw it at the grocery store last week!” He pointed at my mother and whooped like he’d just won some sort of exciting contest. But once she knew I wasn’t using my car as a weapon of mass destruction, all my mother wanted to know was why I was at the grocery store with a girl. And her reaction was exactly what I expected.
So now I’m in the car that started this whole mess, sitting next to Olivia in the parking lot of the state park. A double kayak is strapped to the roof. I’m about to push my door open when I spit out what I’ve been thinking about for the last five minutes. “My mom wanted me to invite you over for dinner.”
“Why?”
“Why?” Nervous laughter wants to bubble up and I choke it down. I was hoping this wouldn’t be awkward, but it’s as bad as I imagined. “I don’t know, because she’s heard me talking about you.” I pull at the baseball cap I’m wearing. “And she likes to feed people. I swear, it’s like one of the great joys of her life.” I wish Olivia would say something so I could shut up. “She still makes me breakfast every morning.”
“Seriously?” Olivia is looking at me like I just sprouted a third arm and she doesn’t know what to make of it.
Just shut up, Aiden. “Yeah. I mean, only when I’m around, obviously.”
“God, it must be awesome being a boy. No one has made me breakfast since I was … nine.” Even though the words sound judgmental, Olivia doesn’t. She sounds disappointed. She’s also just sitting there, behind the wheel of my car, looking at me like she’s the one waiting for something.
“So…” I drum my hands on the dash. “… Food at my house … that sounds good? Or horrible?” I adjust my hat again. “Or I can just leave and pretend this never happened.”
She laughs. “When?”
“We always do family dinner on Wednesdays. Maybe next week?”
She nods, and I feel like I can breathe again. This dating stuff is more stressful than the bottom of the ninth.