T
.ย โย like to be busy. To have something to look forward to, even if itโs edged in anxiety that ebbs and flows when I think about picking up my camera. Or when I think about two weeks with Theo and the kaleidoscope
of emotions he sends tumbling with a long look, that sharp tongue.
Thursday, the night before weโre set to leave, Theo texts me.
I have to do something tomorrow morning. Weโre leaving at 3. My granddad is staying the night here. Can youย ๏ฌnd a ride?
No,ย Iโm so sorry our plans have changed and weโre not leaving at ten after all, so that afternoon hike weโre doing in Yosemite? Not happening. And also by the way, Paul isnโt going to pick you up on his way down here anymore, will you be okay?ย Just a bunch of robot words formed into a demand.
I donโt respond, my blood boiling as I throw my entire underwear drawer into my suitcase. The truce Theo and I agreed upon is already crumblingโIโm going toย strangleย him when I get to his house. However the hell I get there.
Thomas is my saving grace; Sadieโs on a work trip all week, and heโs feeling emo, so he decides to stay in Glenlake for the night and offers to drive me to Theoโs the next day.
My parents throw me a bon voyage dinner, decking out the dining room with streamers and a gold letter banner that readsย GOOD LUCK. They ask me a million questions about the tripโwhere Iโll be stopping, what Iโll be doing
โand my answers are an equal amount of truth and lies. Stomach-churning guilt makes it hard to eat or drink, but my family makes up for it. By the time ten rolls around, Thomas is sleeping off six beers while Mom and Dad reminisce about the county fair photography contest I won when I was twelve.
I go to bed feeling like a liar.
I wake up feeling like one, too, but as Thomas drives us into the city, I finesse it. Itโs not a lie. Itโs a secret, which is just a truth that hasnโt been told yet.
Thomasโs hangover and the afternoon work call he has to get home for make him practically kick me out of the car as we pull up to Theoโs. However, he manages to leave me with some parting words.
โHave a good time, kid,โ he croaks out. โSadie and I have a bet on whether you let Theo stick it in. I say day three, sheโs got day ten, but I owe her some blue velvet couch she wants if you fall in love with him.โ
โFucking hell, Mas.โ
โHave fun.โ His smile fades and he pulls off his sunglasses. โFor real. I hope you find whatever youโre going after. Iโll be following along with the story.โ
I wave him off with a lump in my throat. He yells out the window, โWrap it if you tap it!โ and zooms off, cackling.
โSuch a jackassโโ I turn and my knees collapse. Theoโs standing on the sidewalk, hands tucked into the pockets of his joggers. โJesus!โ
He smirks. โ โWrap it if you tap itโ?โ
โI couldnโt even explain if I wanted to,โ I say. โWhich I donโt.โ
He looks down at his phone, illuminating the screen. โYouโre late.โ
Itโs 3:09. โWe were supposed to leave at ten, so letโs not startย that
conversation.โ
I wait for the long overdue apology, or an explanation, but Theo merely steps forward and takes the handle of my suitcase, brushing my hand aside. I block my senses to the fresh soap scent of him, that hint of firewood and vanilla. Itโs the sweetness that gets me most; Theo is all spice, no sugar. Strange that he wears it on his skin.
โGive me your other bags so I can pack up the car. Weโre leaving in five.โ Tension buzzes off him like electricity. Whatever he had to do this morning, it wasnโt relaxing.
I let my backpack and camera bag slide off my shoulders, and he takes those, too, then walks toward the minivan he rented for the trip, parked in front of his house. I sigh. Iโm still recovering from my disappointment when he told me we werenโt taking the Bronco.
Paul walks out of the house just then. โGood afternoon, Noelle! Ready for our adventure?โ
โI canโt wait.โ Itโs ninety-nine percent true. The one percent is watching me, his expression unreadable.
โShall we start the trip with a letter?โ Paul pulls a slip of paper from the pocket of his khakis. My heart reaches through my ribs for that piece of Gram.
He hands it over. โNow, this one is out of order, so youโll have to forgive me. It seemed like the right one for our trip kickoff.โ
โIโm sure itโs perfect.โ
I gingerly unfold the letter, struck again by the familiar loop of Gramโs handwriting.
Thereโs a sudden wall of heat behind me, the scent of Theo, his breath on my neck as we read together.
May 10, 1957
Good evening, my love,
Do you think Iโm silly, writing this letter while youโre in the room with me? I have so many ideas and I want to write them down.
Now that weโve decided to elope, hereโs what weโll do: get married as soon as the year is over and then go on our honeymoon road trip. Should we get a map today? Iโll show you all the places that sound most exciting, and you can tell me if Iโm right or wrong (we both know Iโll be right).
Iโm dreaming about the beautiful photographs youโll take. Ones we can hang in our home when we get back to LA. Maybe Iโll take some pictures of youโIโll steal your camera when we leave the courthouse. The whole trip will be crooked landscapes and close-ups of your face.
You always call my face precious, but itโs yours that makes me happy. I am happy, even if itโs not the wedding I thought Iโd have. I believe you when you tell me it will be okay. Just keep saying it so I donโt forget.
Yours forever,
Kat
By the time I finish, the words are dancing on the page. Itโs bittersweet to be doing this in her place. Her hope was so palpable here. What took it away?
โWell.โ I sniff, keeping my eyes pinned to the paper so neither of them can see my emotion, which is silly. My voice is threaded with it. โGood news: Iโll be fulfilling the role of crooked landscape photographer.โ
โI doubt that,โ Paul says gently.
I hand him back the letter, averting my gaze from Theo. He hasnโt said a word. Does he think Iโm ridiculous? Or is it poignant for him, too?
When I chance a look at him, his gaze is penetrating, but not judgmental. Maybe itโs in accordance with our truce; I donโt know.
Clearing my throat, I say, โIโm going to use the restroom real quick.โ
I escape to do my business, patting at my face with forty-ply toilet paper in the mirror after Iโve washed my hands. With a stern, silent look at mirror- me to get ahold of ourselves, I let out a breath. It starts shaky, but ends steadier.
I can do this. Iย wantย this. Most importantly, I need it.
The bathroom feeds into the kitchen, and as I step into it, thereโs a rustling in the foyer. Fearing itโs Theo, I slow, running my hand along the counter.
The footsteps recede quickly, so I pick up my pace. My fingers brush against something, then snag on its weight. It takes me five full seconds to recognize what Iโm looking at, but when it sinks in, my heart skips a beat.
Our senior yearbook. I look over my shoulder to make sure Iโm alone, though this isnโt my secret to get caught with, then pull the book closer.
It flips to a page bookmarked with articles from our high school paper, as well as one from Glenlakeโs. Theyโre tennis articles about Theo.
But also about me.
My heart beats fast. I shuffle through the slightly smudged paper, my eyes scanning the profile our paper did on me, and the one they did on Theo weeks later. I counted the words in each of our articles and was pissed to discover his had one hundred more.
Why did he keep this? And why is it out now?
The pleasure that pours through my veins like a serotonin jet stream isnโt just uncomfortable, itโs concerning. Itโs bad enough that Iโm curious about him. I canโt think about the possibility that he might be curious right back. Mutual attraction? Fine. But mutual interest? That can only end in disaster.
This trip isnโt about Theo and me. Itโs about Gram. Itโs aboutย me. I have to squash this feeling.
I slam the book shut and put it back. I never touched it. Never saw it. Iโm absolutely going to forget it.
 |
โย .
Not when Paul insists he prefers the backseat, leaving me in front with Theo. Not when I find out Theoโs programmed his phone to the vanโs Bluetooth, like a dog peeing on a tree. Nor when he reminds me as Iโm covertly pushing buttons in an attempt to disconnect his phone, that we agreed to a truce and sabotaging his music isnโt very truce-like. Not even when we have to listen to his old, moody โ90s playlist full of songs I either loathe or donโt know for the three-hour drive.
He was remembering me. He was remembering us, whatever us there used to be. What does itย mean? Thereโs nothing I hate more than a question unanswered, especially when I canโt ask it.
Iโm itchy and restless. Theo tosses me no less than forty irritated looks, though he stays contained in brooding silence. Paul is the MVP, wrapping me up in conversation until we pull up to our hulking cabin-style hotel in Groveland, forty minutes outside Yosemite Valley.
We check in and eat a quick dinner at the hotelโs restaurant. By the time weโre done, itโs nearing nine and Paulโs energy level has nosedived.
โI hate to cut the night short,โ he says as we exit the elevator on the third floor. โIโm not used to keeping up with you kids.โ
Theo has his hand on Paulโs shoulder, guiding him down the hall. โItโs fine, we have to get up early tomorrow anyway.โ
Iโve already set my alarm for six; we have to be out the door by quarter to seven to beat the crowds.
But after we say good night in front of our adjacent rooms, restless energy beats through me. I sit listening to the silence on the other end of the wall, staring at the camera bag with my freshly cleaned equipment, and think about the way Theo looks at me sometimes. The way his voice dips low. That crooked smirk.
At ten I give up and dig through my suitcase for my bathing suit. I only brought one, a high-waisted bikini I bought for a girlsโ trip to Costa Rica years ago. Itโs black, simple, a little sporty but shows a lot of ass, which is objectively my best feature. In hindsight, a one-piece may have been more appropriate, but I like my body in this suit.
Would Theo?
โNo,โ I demand, glaring at myself in the full-length mirror. The gleam in mirror-meโs brown eyes is defiant.
God. I canโt even agree with myself. Maybe a dip in the hot tub will steam my brain cells into submission. Or kill some off.
Once Iโm dressed, I slip on a robe and make my way down to the pool. The posted hours say it closed at ten, but the gate is propped open, so I slip inside.
Aside from the hum of conversation from the restaurant patio, itโs quiet. At my feet, the hot tub bubbles, steam hissing into the cool night air. Above, the sky stretches into forever and nothing, an infinite number of stars shaken across it.
I yank at the knotted belt of the robe, but a voice nearby stops me. โโpush me out.โ
I freeze. That sounded like Theo. โI know, Matias, but youโโ
Again, the voice stops, clearly frustrated. Itโs definitely Theo; even angryโor, god, maybe especially that wayโthe timbre of it sings through my body.
โIโve got my dad up my ass right now, I donโt need you there, too. I told you this morning, Iโm unavailable for the next two weeks,โ he says, low and tight. He sounds closer now, but I still donโt see him. โYou and Anton agreed to thatโโ Another pause, then a laugh. It sounds dead. โYeah, I know whatโs going to happen, and thatโs exactly why I donโt give a shit about the timing of this trip. Iโm having my attorney look at everything, too. Thereโs nothing else we can do right now, so let me do this. No more fucking calls, okay?โ
There are footsteps now, incredibly close. I scramble to unknot my robe, my heart racing, but Theo rounds the corner just as it falls to the ground.
When he catches sight of me, he stops so suddenly that it looks like he ran into an invisible wall. He doesnโt say anything, and I canโt. Iโm standing here with my ass hanging out, feeling naked in every sense of the word as his eyes sweep over me.
Itโs confirmed: he likes my body in this bikini. And my body loves that. โEavesdropping?โ he asks finally, that tightness still in his voice. โKeeping secrets?โ I shoot back.
Heโs so tense. Even ten feet away, in the darkness and with a gate separating us, itโs radiating off him. His shoulders are tight, his hand clenched around his phone like heโs seconds away from throwing it.
Theoโs life has always seemed perfect from far away. But Iโm close enough now to see the cracks.
He pushes through the gate, slipping his phone into his pocket. His eyes run over me quickly and he swallows, then looks away.
โI had to check in with work,โ he says. His gaze flickers back to my face, dropping lower briefly. Itโs like the steam brushing against my skin: hot, but too insubstantial to really feel.
A cold shower would be ideal, but the hot tub will have to do. I slip into the water, letting out a sigh as it engulfs me. Theo watches from the edge, his hands in his pockets, the lights from the hot tub dancing across his face. It could just be the way itโs distorting his features, but for a second he looks . . . devastated.
I remember the days Iโd run to Gramโs house after a terrible breakup or a professional heartache. There was something cathartic in knowing sheโd open the door and instantly recognize I needed to talk. That I needed to shed a secret, or two, or ten.
I see it in Theoโs face now; the weight of it, whatever it is.
โMy gram and I . . .โ I trail off, unsure. Heโs still looking down at me, his expression morphing from blank to hungry to miserable as the lights flicker under the roiling water. โWe had a thing we did. We called it Tell Me a Secret, and every time we saw each other, weโd exchange a secret we needed to get off our chest. Sometimes more, depending on how big a disaster the day was.โ
Recognition of my offer smooths out his brow. His shoulders straighten and he exhales, deep and tired. Then he crouches, resting his forearms on his knees. โAll right, Shepard. Wanna play?โ
I raise a challenging eyebrow. โDo you?โ
โTell me yours first.โ Itโs bossy, too familiar, like he came up with the game himself and heโs lettingย meย participate.
But I started this, so I play along. I run my hand through a circle of bubbles, letting my expression turn threatening. โI want to throw your phone into the pool. If Iโm subjected to any more Radiohead, Iโm going to fling myself out of the car while itโs moving.โ A smileโso tiny butย thereโ breaks the straight line of his mouth, curves it into something lighter. My chest goes so warm. Must be the hot tub. โBut also, you should get two
weeks without whatever stress your job is giving you, if thatโs what you asked for.โ
His Adamโs apple bobs, and I follow the sinuous motion. I hate that itโs sexy. I hate thatย heโsย sexy, and that heโs sad, and I donโt like that I hate that. It scares me. I donโt need this.
But I donโt stop it, either. โTell me yours.โ โWhat do you have against Radiohead?โ
I glare. โThatโs not a secret.โ
He grins. โThom Yorke is a genius.โ
โThom Yorke makes me want to throw myself out of a moving vehicle, and also, maybe try music from this century. Now tell me your secret, Spencer, or Iโm going to push you into the pool with your phone.โ
He stands, and for a moment I feel so utterly exposed it takes my breath away. I shared something personal with him and heโs going toย leave?
I open my mouth to tell him where else his phone can go, but he gets there first.
โI canโt wait to see you with a camera in your hand tomorrow.โ He says it in a rush, then looks down, exhaling slowly. โYouโd better be as good as I remember. No crooked photos.โ
And then he walks away without another word, leaving me gaping after him.
