[completed] Nova Carter knows exactly what the next few years of her life will look like: she will work harder than anyone else (as she didn't get into New York University to slack off); she'll be keeping her head down and prioritizing getting her a...
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Chapter Thirty-six | Bags ♫Bags by Clairo
I'm sinking away in the cold sand of Addenfield's beach. My heels dig in first, deeper and deeper, and my toes follow, but not as fast. It's getting increasingly difficult to stay upright with my underdeveloped sense of balance, but I try my hardest.
In front of me sits the house of the Petersons, a house we nicknamed 'the White House', partly because of its white paneling and partly because the Peterson family has always seemed to be a bit too polished to be real.
The reality of things is not as pretty. Logan's bedroom sits at the far end of the home, where the beach ends and makes way for ginormous black boulders, the exact ones we weren't allowed to climb as kids because some had spiky, sharp edges and when the water rushed past it, they got slippery, too.
I always thought it was cool that there was such a contrast between the White House's left and right side, a soft beach on one end and sharp black boulders on the other. But today, it's not cool. Not even close. It's just sad. It's winter, and it's cold, and it's sad.
"Nova? What are you doing here?"
I slip out of my thoughts and crash back into reality, my hands tightening around the air-tight container I'm holding and my feet sinking even deeper into the sand.
Katherine, Logan's mother, regards me with kind eyes. She's dressed too lightly for the weather— in jeans and a shirt and a long cardigan wrapped around her frame. It's the second thing I notice about her, right after the fact that her smile is kind but her eyes reveal her concern.
"I made cookies," I tell her. I look down at the see-through container and the glazed sugar cookies inside of it. Logan's favorite. A delicious, pathetic apology.
"How nice! Let's go inside, it's freezing." Katherine pulls her hand away from her body, and the cardigan with it, ready to wrap it around me too.
But instead of stepping into the warmth, I find myself reaching out two hands, barely pressing the container into her. "Actually, could you give these to Logan? You can tell him it's from the Carters, not just me."
Katherine slowly goes back to wrapping her cardigan around herself, regarding the container but making no move to take it from me. "Nova," she calls, softly. "Listen, I don't know what happened between you two. But can't you just make up? It's obvious that you both want to, but you know how Logan is. He's stubborn. I've told him a million times to just walk over and say hi but it just prompted him to crawl even deeper into his shell."
"I don't want to make him uncomfortable."
"Making up is always a little uncomfortable. If you won't push yourself, you can't believe that it'll just happen."
This time, Katherine doesn't wait. She wraps her cardigan around me, pressing a supportive hand against my upper arm and guiding me to the back doors of her house. "It'll be fine," she assures me. "You just need to be in a room together. The cookies are a great start."
