Chloe shrugs and holds out a hand. “Taco Bell?”
Georgia nods again, letting Chloe pull her up. “Taco Bell.”
They walk into Belltower with two heavy bags of burritos and wave goodbye to Georgia’s dad as he passes the night shift off to Georgia. If Chloe had been paying closer attention, she could have seen the signs. Georgia’s been managing the store as much as her parents for the last six months. Of course she can’t leave.
They climb up the ladder to the loft and settle amid the rare books, on the patchy rug that once sat in the living room of Georgia’s house until her parents got a new one and recycled it for the store.
“Remember when I got my license,” Chloe says, punching her straw out of its wrapper, “and I picked you up from your house, and we got Taco Bell and then went to Walmart and just walked around for an hour? Didn’t you get fifteen flavors of Laffy Taffy?”
“It was Airheads.”
“That’s right. And I bought a Super Soaker.”
“We were drunk on power.”
“God, that was the best day,” Chloe says with a sigh. “Why is the freedom to wander around Walmart unsupervised so intoxicating?”
“I don’t know, man.” Georgia laughs.
Chloe laughs too, and then she says, “I’m sorry,” at the exact same moment Georgia says, “Thank you.”
Chloe puts down her drink.
“You first.”
“I just—” Georgia starts. “You really jumped on the gay grenade for me today. Thank you.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Chloe says. “I’m … I’m sorry I wasn’t around, and that I stole the key, and that I lied to you, and that I got so caught up in my own stuff that I let it make me a crappy friend. And for the French essay.” She exhales. It really is a long list. “And I’m really, really sorry I didn’t apologize to you until now. I would jump on a gay grenade for you every day of my life, and it sucks that I wasn’t acting like it.”
“I know you would,” Georgia says. She pokes at her nachos and continues. “And I—I know I could have brought up how I was feeling earlier instead of blowing up at you.”
“I kind of deserved to be blown up at.”
Georgia makes a serious face. “Still.”
“Well,” Chloe says, “if our relationship is gonna be long distance, we have to promise that we’re gonna be better at communication, okay?”
“You’re not still mad at me about Auburn?”
“I was never mad at you about Auburn,” Chloe says. “Did you think I was mad at you about Auburn?”
Georgia shrugs. “Kind of.”
“I wasn’t mad at you,” Chloe says. “It’s just that … I’m kind of terrified of doing this without you. And I’m worried about you doing this without me. And I think sometimes when I’m scared it comes out like angry.”
“Yeah, you do that.”
Chloe winces. “Sorry. I need to work on that.”
“It’s okay,” Georgia says. “I mean, I’m scared too. But I love you, and we’re both gonna figure it out.”
“I love you too,” Chloe says.
It’s not easy for Chloe to say stuff like that. But everything’s easy with Georgia.
She picks her drink back up and says, “Now. Can I ask you something?”
Georgia nods.
“How and when did you start dating Summer Collins?”
Georgia covers her face with both hands.
“Oh my God.”
“The blushing!” Chloe gasps theatrically. “She’s gay, Your Honor!”
“You’re so embarrassing,” Georgia groans. “You remember in tenth grade, when I had to do that geometry project with her? I’ve had a crush on her since then. She was kind of like, the girl who made me realize I liked girls.”
“You never told me!”
“I feel like I did mention that she was pretty before, but that always inevitably became a conversation about how she was friends with Shara, and how Shara was the worst.”
Chloe winces again. “Okay. Fair. Continue.”
Georgia returns to her nachos, fighting a smile. “I never deleted her number after the project. I always hoped somehow she would like, feel me staring at her contact page and get a random urge to text me. And then we’d talk, and we’d fall in love and move to the mountains together and learn how to raise sheep or something.”
“And is that what happened?”