15
Finn
I’ve just pulled into the driveway; tired, sore, and starving. Practice ran late, and coach was on a tear. I knew we’d have to pay him back for the time off the other day.
I’m pulling my gear out of the back of the truck when Kenley parks in her driveway. I pause, waiting for her to get out.
“Hey,” she says, “You just getting home?”
“Yeah, long practice. You coming from Ezra’s?”
“I spent a few hours over there after school. The float is starting to take shape.”
“Good. I hate missing it, but—”
“Coach Chandler has other plans. I get it.” She glances up at the house, seeming to notice for the first time her parents' car is gone. “Ugh, I forgot. They went to that rally Mr. Waller was holding tonight. They were very interested in hearing what he had to say about sanitation procedures.”
I look at my own dark house.
“I guess my parents went, too. Hey,” I say, “did you eat?”
She makes a face and shakes her head. “There was some kind of mystery casserole for dinner at Ezra’s. I passed.”
“I know my mom left dinner. Want to come over? We can eat and, you know, study.”
“Yeah, that sounds good.”
I can’t fight a smile. “Cool. Let me go shower and clean up. Thirty minutes, okay?”
“Yeah.” Her smile in return warms my belly. “I’ll come over then.”
We part, and I head up the porch steps, tossing my football gear by the door. Mom gets pissed when I don’t air it out, because damn, it reeks after practice. But I don’t have time for that tonight. I pass through the kitchen, smelling the lasagna and garlic bread Mom left warming in the oven. My mouth waters, but I climb the stairs, stripping off my clothes as I go, not wasting any time.
I turn on the shower, walking back in my room for my towel. The lights are off, and I glance out the window and see Kenley walk into her room. For years we kept the shades drawn, blocking one another out, but now it’s different. We’re trying to rebuild that bridge of friendsh
ip between us. Friendship and something more.
I walk into the bathroom and hop in the shower, feeling the warm heat beat against my tired shoulders. I desperately want her to know I’m serious about this—about her. The way I treated her wasn’t great. A little communication could have gone a long way. When she got mad at Rose, she turned her back on me too. I didn’t know it was because she thought I was involved with the vandalism on her house. I should have tried harder—done better. I can’t take away the past, but I can control the future. A future I want to include Kenley.
I lather up, scrubbing off the dirt and grime. I emerge with pink skin and clean hair. I change quickly, knowing she’ll be back over soon. We can’t go on a date right now—not so close to Rose dying and definitely not with our current dating circumstances. We may not be able to go out, but we can stay in.
I’ve just opened the oven when I hear a tap on the side door. Kenley peers through the window. I wave her in.
“Smells good,” she says, taking off her coat. Her hair is up in a smooth ponytail and she’s wearing a gray sweater covered in small blue stars. It fits her perfectly, revealing her curves and the narrow taper to her waist. It’s been years since Kenley was in my house and it strikes me at how much I missed having her here. “What can I do to help?”
I grab the bubbling dish with a potholder and place it on the table. “Uh, grab two plates? They’re in the—”
“I know where they are,” she says, opening the correct cabinet and reaching for two dinner plates. Next, she pulls open the silverware drawer and picks out utensils. By the time I have the bread out, she’s set the whole table, including napkins and glasses.
“That looks amazing,” she says, pulling out her chair. I want to kick myself for not going over and doing it for her. I’m just a little stunned at having her back in my house again. “Your mom has always been a really good cook.”
I use a big spoon to scoop out a square and place it on her plate. With a crunch, she takes a bite of bread and moans her approval.
“Better than mystery casserole?”
She laughs. “You have no idea.”
Our toes touch under the table and neither of us makes an effort to move them, and although I know my stomach pains are from hunger, some of it is from having her so close.