The Summer We Let Go

Chapter Four

Carter

          Jackie sips up the last drops of her lemonade, making an obnoxious slurping noise that fills up the nearly empty food court. You could call this a mall, I suppose. It's got the typical Sears and American Eagle and MC Sports and those little shops that people only notice because they decidedly go out of their way to avoid them. Usually what you'll get here are teens shopping for Homecoming dresses, or an old couple sitting on the bench. Maybe some kids here and there with parents. The occasional Mall Walker—a person committed to getting fit by walking the entire interior of the mall from one end to the other and back again. Typically women in their mid-thirties to fifties. But not always. Now that I think about it, I wonder if they Mall Walk because they can look at all the mannequins in cute clothes that they wouldn't fit in. That's pretty solid motivation.

          "Alright, what about him?" Jackie asks, nodding to the guy that took our pizza order. "Gay, straight, or taken?"

          "Straight," I muse, gulping down a mouthful of gooey cheesy goodness. "He blushed when he took our order but didn't flirt. Plus he keeps looking over here occasionally, peeking out the corner of his eyes and looking away really fast. So he's not confident enough around girls to be taken. There's no way."

          "I don't know," she draws out, cocking her head to the side and peering at him. "He's kind of cute. Maybe he's not flirting because he has a girlfriend."

          "Nah," I argue, taking another bite. "Trust me. He's totally single."

          "Is not."

          "Is too."

          "Is not."

          "Wanna bet?" I ask, giving her a challenging look. She knows where this is going to go.

          But she goes there anyway, giving me the same defiant glare. "Yes. Loser buys winner something. Shirt, pair of shoes, jeans, whatever. Nothing more than fifty dollars, though."

          I wipe my hands on my shorts and dab at my face with a napkin before scooting my chair out and approaching the boy with a sheepish smile. I would just grin, but I didn't bother checking my teeth for anything, and how funny would that be? I don't want to make him laugh; I want to make him blush. So I bite my lip a little and peer up at him, my head tilted down just slightly and my hands behind my back.

          He straightens when he sees me, coming up to the display of pizzas and calzones, ready to take my order. "What can I get ya?"

          I open my mouth, then bite my lip again, quickly looking back to Jackie, who's twirling her hair and looking away. Perfect. "Well, actually... See, my friend thinks you're really cute and... Well she was just wondering if you happened to have a girlfriend or not... Um..." I make myself laugh nervously, willing my face to blush as I refuse to meet his eyes. "Never mind, sorry."

          I shift my weight from the tips to the heels of my feet, giving him time to say something. When he doesn't, I taunt him by taking a small step back and finally meeting his eyes. He's blushing, but also grinning ear to ear. Not pompously, but more of the kind of grin you give when you're a really awkward person and don't know what else to do. Like the one Joey gives when middle schoolers croon over him as he hands them their candy.

          "Um," he says, looking away from my stare. "No, I don't."

          It takes a lot of effort not to smile triumphantly, but I manage. "Great! I mean—um—could she maybe have your number?"