“Well, yeah, but things were pretty rough at the start. Sometimes I think maybe if she had a chance to do it all over again, she might have picked differently, you know?”
“Not everyone has a choice, Jade. Some people have to live with what life throws at them.”
I shot him an amused look and put my hands together in a prayer gesture. “Why, thank you for your wisdom. I didn’t realize you life coaches worked on holidays.”
Quentin huffed. “Please, that’s probably when they’re working overtime.”
I shook out one of the blankets and spread it on the grass. As I lay down on it, Quentin’s head came into view above my face.
“I pulled these chairs from storage, cleaned them off, dragged them out here, and all you needed was a blanket?”
Half of my face creased. “Thank you?”
Sighing, Quentin came around the side, and right when I thought he was about to fall into one of the chairs, he collapsed onto the blanket beside me. Lying down, he inched toward me until our arms touched. There were only a few inches of my skin on his, but that was literally all I could focus on.
Quentin’s arm. Quentin’s skin. Quentin’s warmth.
Before I felt it coming, a shiver trembled down my spine.
“Cold?” he asked. Before I had a chance to answer, his arm wrapped around my head, tucking me closer to him as he drew the blanket across me with his hand.
“Do you like me? As more than just a friend?” It came out suddenly, like I’d been holding it back and it had broken free.
When he took a moment to answer, my head tilted in his direction; his was turned in my direction already. The way he was looking at me—the way his forehead was all creased together—it was as if no one had ever uttered such a stupid question in the history of the world.
“I could answer your question one of two ways.” The corner of his mouth twitched as his face moved closer. “Both ways involve my lips.”
His other arm dropping around my waist. “Works for me,” I said.
The first shimmering silver firework exploded into the sky, but he didn’t notice it. And I wasn’t about to acknowledge it.
My eyes closed, waiting for our lips to meet when I heard a very different noise. It wasn’t a firework. It was kind of the opposite.
“She’s scrubbed down and in her jammies for the night, and since she isn’t able to run the bases quite yet…” Mrs. Ford was looming above us, with a bouncing Lily in her arms.
I flew up, adjusting and covering and fretting, like she’d caught us doing something way worse than trying for a chaste-ish first kiss. Quentin didn’t seem too fazed, though. He just sat up and held out his arms.
“Lily’s first Fourth of July. Wouldn’t want her to miss her very first fireworks.” Mrs. Ford handed a well-loved stuffed bear to Quentin after he’d settled Lily into his lap. She didn’t make eye contact with me before she left for the baseball game already under way. Tonight was full of surprises.
“Mr. Snuggles?” I shook one of the bear’s arms. Lily was chewing on the other one.
“In the fur and stuffing.” Quentin combed Lily’s light hair off to the side with his fingers. “Yeah, so, sorry about that.” He pulled one of the chairs behind us so we could lean into it and watch the show. “Not exactly the kind of fireworks I had in mind for tonight.”
This time, it was my hand that reached for his. Even though he was preoccupied with Lily, his fingers knitted through mine, and he held my hand while he held Lily against his chest so she could watch the show as well.
I smiled over at him, the display in the sky seeming to fade away compared to the view I had of him. “Exactly the kind of fireworks I had in mind.”
Grease, chlorine, and BO—that was my eau de perfume of the summer. Hopping in the shower the moment I stepped into the house was all I could think about every day after a shift. I took an extra-long one that afternoon, slipping into a comfy romper after.
The pool had been as busy today as it was yesterday, and Quentin got roped into working until close, which sucked since I’d been hoping to talk with him after our shifts were over.
He said he’d text me when he was done, but that was still a couple hours away. I thought about sitting down in the window seat to journal, but I wasn’t feeling especially creative. Waiting on an endless line of kids while suffocating inside the snack shack had a way of draining the inspiration right out of a person. Even Jane Eyre couldn’t hold my appeal.
Before I knew it, I’d shot off a quick text to Zoey to see if she’d be down to see a band with me in a few weeks. Namely, my dad’s band; of course I didn’t mention that fact in my invite. Her message pinged back a minute later. She was in.
Score. Zoey was the perfect person to bring with me on this kind of adventure. She’d be relaxed and supportive, no matter how things went.
With Dad on the brain, I fired up my laptop. Almost a whole twenty-four hours had passed since I’d checked up on him. Let’s see what he’d done for his Happy Birthday, America, celebration.
Apparently his Independence Day standard was much lower than the Fords’, I thought as I scrolled through the stream of photos in his timeline. His Fourth of July drinks were nothing like the Fords had served.
And what the…My nose wrinkled when I scrolled to the next photo. I didn’t think it was legal to have half of one’s butt hanging from your skirt when in a dining establishment. Even if it was only one that offered hot wings, from the looks of it. Butts on display had to violate some kind of health code.
And what was the guy also known as my dad doing with said ass exhibitionist? Why had he posted half a dozen pictures of the two of them in varying poses that tipped the ew scale?
That was when my phone chimed. I didn’t even check the screen before answering, too distracted by the taste of bile in my throat.
“Yay! I got you! The real you and not the voice-recorded or digitized-words version.” Mom’s voice exploded through the phone so loudly I had to hold it away from my ear.
Just like that, I was smiling again. “Hey, Mom. International time zones really suck.”
“They really do,” she said, her warm, cheery voice making me feel better hundreds of zip codes away. “How’s life?”
At the moment?
“Fabulous,” I half-grumbled when my gaze shifted back to my laptop screen. I didn’t remember Dad seeming so immature when I’d first tracked him down online. Then again, maybe I’d been too excited about finding him to pay attention to anything else.
“Uh-oh. I know that tone.”
Of course she did. She knew every tone in my arsenal.
“I’ve got a whole box of chocolates sitting in front of me and nowhere to be for three hours. Talk.” I could actually hear the sound of packaging being ripped open in the background. She really did have a fresh box of chocolates. Something inside of me kind of ached when I imagined how nice it would be to feel my mom’s arm around me as I spilled.
“I just feel off. If that makes any sense at all.” I paused, wondering if that was the right way to describe it. “Upside down or something.”
Mom was quiet. For half a hot second. “Does a guy have something to do with this kinda off, upside-down feeling?”
My mind drifted to Quentin at the same time my eyes latched onto the next photo of my dad. “Yeah,” I answered, not entirely sure which guy had tipped my world slightly off its axis.
Mom tried to muffle her sigh, but I could hear it. “Is he worth it?”
I thought about Quentin. Then I thought about my dad. “Yeah.”
“Darn,” she said. “Because if he wasn’t, that would make my advice so much easier to give you.”
“Sorry your only child’s inconveniencing you.” I grinned and waited. Mom always had good advice—there was never any BS behind it. She just didn’t always hav
e a habit of taking her own advice.
“Our world goes wonky for two reasons, Jade.” From the sound of it, she was munching on a chocolate right now. Which made me wish I had my own treat. “Either we’re changing ourselves or someone is trying to force us to change.” There was silence on the line, and then I heard her shift in the background. “You’re the only one who knows who you should be, and how to be it.”
I chewed on the ends of my fingernails. “Okay. That sounds manageable. Hey, Mom?”
“Hey, Jade?”
I paused, my stomach convulsing when I thought about bringing this up to her. “Do you ever think about him? My dad?” I swallowed, waiting.
She was quiet, and then, “Sometimes.”
We were talking about him. Kind of. That was a huge leap compared with me never bringing up his name for fear of life and limb. “Do you ever think about what might have happened if, you know, he hadn’t left? If he was still in our lives?”
She was quiet even longer this time, but at least I couldn’t hear anything fragile breaking in the background. I heard her long exhale. “Everything happens for a reason. Your dad included.”
Everything happens for a reason. That was the phrase that stayed in my head as Mom and I moved on to other topics far less flammable. If that were true, then I was here for a reason, having tracked my dad down and set a date to approach him.
He’d walked away for a reason. And I had mine for wanting to meet him.
Any hesitations that had temporarily arisen were put to bed by the time I hung up with my mom and her box of chocolates. After our two-hour call, I was excited again to meet my dad. So what if his online profile made him seem like a douchebag stuck in his early twenties? He was my dad.
A few minutes after I’d hung up with Mom, Quentin’s text came through. He was done with work and had the rest of the night free, which was unusual since he normally had family stuff going on until after nine. He wanted me to come out with him, once again refusing to give any details.
I gave a frustrated groan as I tapped my phone against my knee, debating. My aunt and cousins were gone—I think I remembered her mentioning something about them having some dinner plans tonight—and Uncle Paul might be home sometime tonight, but he sure wouldn’t come looking for me first thing.
As I considered, another text came in from Quentin: Ur only young once.
Meet u outside in 5, I texted back, noticing my battery was low, but there wasn’t time to charge it now. Then I jotted down a quick note to my aunt for when she got home.
Not feeling well. Went to bed early. See you in the morning.
I felt a little guilty when I tacked on the Love, Jade part, because I knew I was wrapping up an ugly lie with a pretty bow.
Before I could let the guilt take root, I started to stuff my bed with pillows again, the way I had every night I snuck out of my room. I’d become so good at it, I could do it in under a minute now.
Inspecting my room as I left, I made sure all the lights were off and the curtains were drawn. It was only seven o’clock, so hopefully Aunt Julie and the girls wouldn’t be home for a couple more hours. Because note or not, I knew she’d check on me if she came home to discover I was already asleep for the night at seven-thirty.
Closing the door behind me, I rushed down the stairs and dropped the note on the table. Another stab of guilt hit me when I saw the plate of vegan brownies Aunt Julie had left for me. I didn’t want to lie to her. I hated it. But if I didn’t, how could I experience this summer the way I intended?
Plus, there was the whole thing with my mom practically ordering me to go and have fun this summer or else. Aunt Julie might have been standing in for a couple months, but Mom was my parent. Listening to one was like disobeying the other, but I was going with the commander in chief on this one. And Mom’s advice meant getting to see Quentin.
Quentin was waiting for me by his truck. He was leaning into the rusted blue tailgate, hands stuffed into his pockets, staring at me in a way that made my stomach fold in half.
“Little early for sneaking out, isn’t it?” he asked when I checked the driveway for the third time, looking for Aunt Julie’s minivan. “The sun’s still shining and everything.”
My hand dropped to my hip as I stopped in front of him. “Little early for you to be free, isn’t it? Family duties finish up sooner than expected?”
His shoulders bobbed as he moved around his truck to open the door for me. “I have a free night.”
“And you wanted to spend this rare early night of freedom with me?”
“Actually no, but my first and second picks were busy. So you’ll have to do.” His arms were hanging above the door frame, his face giving nothing away, but his eyes betrayed him.
“Third choice? Lucky me.” He laughed. “Third time’s the charm?” I said, to which he replied with an overdone frown.
“Come on. You’re my first choice. You know I want to spend every night with you.” When I stayed turned away from him, he leaned in until his head was tucked right beside mine. “And yes, I mean that in every way you want to translate it.”
When I sighed, he laughed again. He kind of loved messing with me. I kind of loved it, too.
“Do you think we can get going?” I checked the back window. Still nothing, but I didn’t want to push it.
“Afraid you’re going to get caught going somewhere with a friend at seven in the middle of summer?” Before I could respond, he closed the door behind me and loped around to the driver’s side.
“Afraid your mom and my aunt shared notes last night.” I buckled up as he turned on the engine.
“My mom didn’t say anything to your aunt about us hanging out at night.”
“How do you know?”
He pulled away from the curb, shrugging. “Because I asked her. From the sound of it, the most personal thing they shared was the secret spice your aunt put in the cherry cobbler.”
“Really?” My nose curled. They’d spent most of the night talking. Apparently about nothing of significance.
“Nothing about you being out at night with me came up, I swear.”
I had a whole ten seconds to feel relieved, right before the opposite effect set in. My hand curled around the armrest. “That means your mom knows I’m sneaking out, then, right?” When he didn’t answer, my head whipped in his direction. “Right?”
His expression answered my question for me. “Maybe?”
“Great. She’s going to tell my aunt.” I started to pull my phone from my purse to call her and fess up now. She’d probably sit me down and give me a lecture before locking me in my room for the next month and a half, but it would be better coming from me than Quentin’s mom.
“No. She’s not.” Quentin’s hand curled around my phone. “She said she wouldn’t, so she won’t.”
“Where are we going?” I asked, not recognizing the road we were on.
“The not knowing’s half the fun.”
“Yeah, you’ve pretty much worn that one out by now.” I scanned the road for any signs that might give away where he was taking me.
We turned into a parking lot at one of the public beaches a few minutes later. The sun was still setting, but there were a bunch of small fires already going on the beach. And one large one.
Even from here, I could see a swarm of bodies circled around it, closer to thirty than five.
“A bonfire?” I didn’t think my voice gave anything away, but Quentin must have picked up on something.
“You wanted to have the quintessential teenage summer. You also just so happen to have picked coastal California for said experiment. You can’t get more everyday teen than a beach bonfire. Trust me.”
“Is everyone gonna have one of those red Solo cup things?”
He lifted his chin and turned off the engine. “You know it.”<
br />
He met me around the hood of his truck and held his hand out. We’d held hands plenty of times already, so I don’t know why this felt like such a big deal, but it did. I guess because Quentin knew some of the people at this bonfire, and I might know a couple from the pool, too. Holding hands when we were alone was different from holding hands in front of a group of people we knew.
It felt like we were announcing ourselves. Like we were making it official.
By the time we were close enough that I could recognize a few familiar faces, it felt like everyone was looking at us. If looking meant staring.
Quentin’s head moved closer, his fingers tightening through mine. “And that’s how you make an entrance.”
That made me smile and feel breathless. It was crazy how he almost always seemed to know what to say or do right when I needed him to.
I waved at Zoey, who winked and made sure I didn’t miss the way she was rocking her hips rather inappropriately. I didn’t wave at Ashlyn, her pool friend of a friend. She looked as if she was sharpening her claws to better stab me through the heart with them.
A few other lifeguards from the pool had made their way up to Quentin, one of them holding a drink for him that he shook his head at, and the other holding one for me. I took it and started tapping my index finger against the red plastic cup.
Quentin had wrapped up a conversation with them when he nudged me and whispered, “Don’t drink that.”
I lifted my brow at him. “Just because a person was homeschooled doesn’t mean they’re clueless.”
He waited.
“I know not to actually drink from an open container when someone I barely know hands it to me.” Discreetly, I poured the contents into the sand. “Better?”
He smiled. “Better.”
After the lifeguards converged on a group of girls who had just arrived, I asked, “Trust issues?”
He steered us through the crowd, lifting his chin at people as they greeted him in passing. “Nah, they’re good guys. The only shady substance they put in our cups was the crummy light beer they bought. I only wanted to make sure you’re as street-smart as you are book-smart.”
Almost Impossible Page 12
