Every Day (Every Day 1)

“Will you be a good scout and check the whereabouts of your mom? I’d rather not leave the way I came in. My morning coordination is so much fuzzier than my nighttime coordination, and I’m always much more inspired when I’m approaching the maiden.”

“Okay,” I say, and in thanks, she kisses my bare shoulder.

The tenderness between two people can turn the air tender, the room tender, time itself tender. As I step out of bed and slip on an oversize shirt, everything around me feels like it’s the temperature of happiness. Nothing from the previous night has dissipated. I’ve woken into the comfort they’ve created.

I tiptoe into the hallway and listen at my mother’s door. The only sound is sleep-breathing, so it appears we’re safe. When I get back to my room, Amelia is still in bed, the sheet pulled back so it’s just her, her T-shirt, and her underwear. I have a feeling that Zara would not let this moment pass without crawling in beside her, but I feel I can’t do that in her place.

“She’s asleep,” I report.

“Like, safe-to-take-a-shower asleep?”

“I think so.”

“You want first shower, second shower, or both shower?”

“You can go first.”

She gets out of bed, and stops to kiss me on the way out. Her hands move under my oversize shirt, and I don’t resist. I fall right into it, kiss her a little bit longer.

“You sure?” she asks.

“You go first,” I tell her.

And then, just like Zara would, I miss her when she’s left the room.

I want it to be Rhiannon.

She sneaks out of the house while I’m in my shower. Then, twenty minutes later, she’s back at the door, to pick me up for school. My mother is awake now and in the kitchen, and smiles when she sees Amelia heading up the p

ath.

I wonder how much she knows.

We spend most of the day together at school, but not in a way that limits our interactions with other people. If anything, we incorporate our friends into what we have between us. We exist as individuals. We exist as a pair. We exist as parts of trios, quartets, and so on. And it all feels right.

I can’t get Rhiannon off my mind. Remembering what she said about how her friends would never know me. How no one else would ever know me. How what we have together will only be us, always.

I am starting to realize what this means, and how sad it would be.

I am already feeling some of the sadness now, and it isn’t even happening.

Seventh period, Amelia has study hall in the library while I have gym. When we meet up after, she shows me the books she’s taken out for me, because they look like ones I’d like.

Will I ever know Rhiannon this well?

Amelia has basketball practice after school. I usually wait around for her, doing my homework. But she is making me miss Rhiannon too much; I have to do something about it. I ask her if I can borrow her car and run some errands.

She hands over the keys, no questions asked.

It takes me twenty minutes to get over to Rhiannon’s school. I park in my usual space as most of the cars head in the other direction. Then I find a place to sit and watch the door, hoping she hasn’t already left.

I am not going to talk to her. I am not going to start everything again. I just want to see her.

Five minutes after I’ve arrived, she appears. She is talking to Rebecca and a couple of her other friends. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but they’re all involved in the conversation.

From here, she doesn’t look like someone who’s recently lost something. Her life seems to be playing on all chords. There’s one moment—one small moment—when she looks up and glances around. For that moment, I can believe she’s looking for me. But I can’t tell you what happens in the moment after, because I quickly turn away, stare at something else. I don’t want her to see my eyes.

This is the after for her, and if she’s in the after, then I have to be in the after, too.