“Hey, congratulations,” Finn said from the couch, giving me a salute.
“Yeah,” Jordie chimed in. “Sam told us about your story. Wouldn’t shut up about it, actually.”
I raised my eyebrows, feeling lighter than popcorn.
“I told you I thought it was good,” Sam said. He tilted his head toward the large gift in my lap. “Is that for me?”
“No,” I replied, innocently. “It’s for Jordie and Finn.”
“She’s good,” said Jordie, pointing his index finger at me before going back to the game.
“It’s stupid,” I added quietly, my eyes on Sam’s friends. He followed my gaze.
“I got something for you, too,” he said, and I saw Jordie elbow Finn.
“You did?”
“It’s upstairs,” he said. “Guys, we’ll be back in a sec,” he announced, and we padded up to the main floor. Sam pointed to the stairs leading to the second floor. “In my room.”
I had been inside Sam’s bedroom only a couple of times. It was a cozy space with navy-blue walls and thick carpeting. Sam kept it tidy—the bed was made with a blue plaid duvet, and there were no piles of clothes on the floor or stray papers on his desk. Next to the bed was a bookshelf filled with comics, secondhand biology textbooks, and full sets of J. R. R. Tolkien and Harry Potter. A large black-and-white poster showing a sketch of an anatomical heart, with labels pointing to the various parts, hung on the wall.
There was a new framed photo on his desk. I put the gift down and picked it up. It was a picture of Sam and me from my first summer at the lake. We were sitting at the end of his dock, towels wrapped around our shoulders, hair wet, both squinting into the sun, a barely detectable grin on Sam’s face and a toothy one on mine.
“This is a good shot,” I said.
“Glad you think so,” he replied, opening up his top drawer and handing me a small present covered in brown paper and tied with a red ribbon.
I opened it carefully, tucking the ribbon in the pocket of my sweatpants. Inside was a pewter frame holding the same photo. “So you can take the lake home with you,” he said.
“Thank you.” I hugged it to my chest and then groaned. “I really don’t want to give you yours. This is so thoughtful. Mine is . . . silly.”
“I like silly,” Sam said with a shrug and picked his present up from the desk. I bit my lip while he tore off the paper and examined the cartoon naked man on the Operation board game lid. His hair fell over his forehead, making it hard to read his expression, and when he looked at me it was with one of his unreadable stares.
“Because you want to be a doctor?” I explained.
“Yeah, I get that. Genius over here, remember?” He smiled. “Definitely the best gift I got this year.”
I exhaled in relief. “Swear on it?” He pinched my bracelet between his thumb and forefinger.
“I swear.” But then his face scrunched up. “I don’t want this to sound bad, but I think that maybe sometimes you worry too much about what other people think.” He rubbed the back of his neck and bent his head so that his face was level with mine.
I mumbled something incoherent. I knew he was right, but I didn’t like that he saw me that way.
“What I’m trying to say is that it doesn’t matter what other people think about you, because if they don’t like you, they’re clearly morons.” He was so close I could make out the darker flecks of blue in his eyes.
“But you’re not other people,” I whispered. His eyes flicked down to my mouth, and I leaned a tiny bit closer. “I do care what you think.”
“Sometimes I think no one gets me the way you do,” he said, the pink of his cheeks deepening to scarlet. “Do you ever get that feeling?” My mouth felt dry and I ran my tongue over my top lip. His gaze followed its path, and I could hear him swallow thickly.
“Yeah,” I said, putting a shaking hand on his wrist, sure that he would close the gap between us.
But then he blinked like he had remembered something important and straightened to his full height and said, “I don’t ever want to mess that up.”
7
Now
Sam and I walk to the Tavern after finishing our ice creams, and when we arrive at the back door, we stand looking at each other awkwardly, unsure of how to part.
“It’s been so great to see you,” I tell him, tugging at the hem of my dress and hating how phony my voice sounds. Sam must hear it, too, because he raises his eyebrows and jerks his head back just slightly. “I was going to try to hit the liquor store before it closes,” I say. “There’s a bottle of wine with my name on it. It’s kind of a lot being back here.” I wince.