Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Henry

WE ARRANGE TO meet two days later. I'm a little surprised he actually responded when I texted, let alone that he was willing to take my first suggestion. I tried to choose something low-key, something casual, something that doesn't scream "desperate." Even so, I showered and changed for this, dressing in something decent but not too decent. Fitted jeans, a T-shirt that doesn't have a logo on it and a jacket rather than a hoodie. That's not too much, is it? That's normal. Anyone would wear that to get dinner with their hot but straight former high school classmate.

I'm a few minutes early, but head into the pizza place anyway. It's one of those fancy West Coast pizza places that use pesto and goat cheese, the sort of establishment my friends back east would reel away from in horror and disgust. Their loss. I like my "flatbread" pizza, and it's the perfect mid-point between fast food casual and a formal restaurant.

I definitely didn't overthink all of this…

I wait anxiously in line and order a margherita pizza when I make it to the front. Hopefully that's a type Alex likes. Oh shit. I didn't ask. I should have asked. Should I order a second pizza to be safe? No, that would look overeager. Plus, it'd be an excessive amount of pizza. I'm just going to have to live with my choice.

I choose a seat near the big front windows so I can watch the street while I wait for him to arrive. There's still five minutes until our meeting time. Outside the window, the streetlights glow, pushing back against the dark rolling in from the trees and hillsides crowded around the town. There isn't much beyond the borders of Tripp Lake, not unless you're willing to drive for a bit, so when night arrives, it spills out like oil, thick and opaque.

Movement disturbs the dark. I sit up straighter as Alex strides toward the restaurant. He doesn't notice me until he enters and I wave for him. Ugh, why did I do that, why did I wave like some dork on a first date? This isn't a date. Not even close. How could it be a date when Alex is straight?

That's what my brain says, but my body isn't listening when Alex's dark eyes lock onto me. He's freshly shaved, but a shadow of stubble dusts his cheeks. His dark hair is tidy and tamed, his grass-covered clothing replaced with clean jeans and a button down that hangs open over a plain olive T-shirt that compliments the warmth in his skin.

Fuck me, he looks good. Way too good for some straight dude from high school.

He smiles, and it's thin, but that doesn't prevent my heart from batting at my chest like a frightened bird. Alex sits across from me, and I have to swallow and remind myself I should do more than stare.

"Thanks for inviting me," Alex says.

I blink, play the words over in my head. I should be the one thanking him.

"It's, oh, no, thank you for coming!" I say.

Alex takes in the restaurant. There's only a couple people dining in besides us. We're tucked away on the plastic benches of a booth that sits right beside the front windows. There are a couple other booths like this one, but the space can't accommodate much besides the counter where employees take orders and the kitchen in the back. Cheese and dough and spices scent the confined space, while heat rolls over us from the large ovens in the back.

"I already ordered," I say. "I hope that's alright. I chose a margherita. It's really popular here."

I tense, waiting for him to say he hates margherita pizza or only eats pepperoni or something. But Alex simply shrugs.

"Sounds fine to me."

Despite his impeccable appearance, he slumps back against the bench, sighing out a weary exhale.

"Have things been going well with your parents?" I ask. He said something about helping them around the house, and he didn't sound thrilled about it. I've never met his parents, but if he's come all this way to help them, I assume he's close with them.

Alex rubs at his eyes, and I notice the way red sneaks in at the corners.

"It's going fine," he says.

He doesn't offer more than that, and our pizza arrives before I can ask. Not that I would. His clipped answer suggests he isn't in the mood to offer any further information.

A server sets our pizza on a tray and distributes plates and water. We dig in immediately, letting cheese and dough and sauce take the place of uncomfortable conversations. I use the opportunity to get my thoughts together. How have I managed to screw this up already? Okay, family talk is out. I need a different topic, something that will put Alex more at ease, something that will make him less tense. I want the Alex I glimpsed at the café, the one who sat on the floor petting Poppy and looking so perfectly peaceful. He wore the slightest of smiles, but it was enough that I haven't stopped thinking about it.

"You got dressed up for this," I joke, nodding at his clothes. "Last time I saw you, you were covered in grass stains."

He chuckles mirthlessly. "They had me cutting the lawn the second I got here. I only brought a couple changes of clothes in my duffel bag, so I need to keep reusing those pants."

"You only have a duffel bag with you?"

Alex shrugs. "I'm not here long. And I wasn't planning do much besides house chores."

I don't fully understand a visit home that encompasses nothing but chores, but Alex's scowl discourages me from prodding further.

"Well, I appreciate the effort regardless," I say, trying to lighten the mood. "I should have dressed nicer."

Alex's eyes flicker up to me, those dark, steady eyes that seem to perceive everything more clearly than the rest of us can. As he sweeps his gaze up and down me, I squirm in my seat, nearly choking on my pizza.

"You look nice," he says simply.

I can't tell if there's anything behind it. There shouldn't be anything behind it. But I preen like a peacock at the suggestion that this could maybe possibly potentially be a compliment.

"Thanks, I'm sure I'm not much different than in high school though," I say. "I still own half the same shirts I did back then. Some of us don't fill out quite so nicely."

It takes a second before I realize what I just said. When I do, I fumble on in a rush.

"I mean, sorry. I didn't. I just meant that … you're … bigger. I mean, you look bigger. No, taller. You look taller. Maybe?"

Shut up, Henry. Shut up, shut up.

Alex's hand is frozen halfway to his mouth. A slice of pizza flops in his grip, but it never makes it to his gaping mouth. He sets it back down on his plate, and an image of him dashing out of this restaurant and never speaking to me again flashes through my head.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," I ramble. "I didn't mean to say it that way. I just meant…"

I know what I meant, and the stunned look on Alex's face suggests he knows what I meant too. There are no words that can obliterate the understanding that passes between us, so I give up trying before I make this even worse.

"It's fine," Alex says quietly.

He's looking down at his plate, depriving me of those expressive eyes that might tell me how badly I've screwed up.

"Wh-what do you do these days?" I say in a desperate bid to change the subject. "Where did you end up, if not here?"

Wrong choice again. Alex scowls. I'm not sure that's better or worse than when he was flustered.

"San Francisco," he says. "Went to law school after college. Graduated last year and ended up at a firm in the city."

I perk up. "That seems exciting."

"I wish. I mostly find scummy loopholes for corporations who know they're breaking the rules."

"That's a thing?"

"It's a huge thing. A lucrative thing. People would be horrified if they knew how much money these corporations throw around so they can screw up a river or park or whatever."

"That's…" I almost say "awful," but manage to catch myself this time. I shouldn't call his job awful, but it seems from his expression that Alex wouldn't disagree.

A dim memory pings in the back of my mind, an image of Alex covered in pine needles and smelling like earth. For all his good looks and popular girlfriends in high school, he seemed to spend every spare moment he had outdoors. This place is a nature-lover's paradise, with trails and trees and, of course, a lake all within hiking distance. And Alex was one of the biggest nature-lovers when we were kids, always showing up at school dirty from tromping along some path through the woods that the rest of us avoided in favor of paved roads.

No wonder he looks miserable. Somehow his life has flipped one hundred and eighty degrees and made him the villain of his own story.

"Anyway," he says, "I guess I already know what you do."

He's trying to shift the focus away from himself, and I let him. He's clearly uncomfortable, and I don't have the heart to force him to continue when I've already made such a mess of this.

"Yeah," I say, "it's great."

"You really came back here from the East Coast?"

I already explained that to him at the café, but it seems like he won't believe it until I confirm it again.

"Really really," I say.

"But why? This place…" His scowl encompasses the pizza shop, Main Street and the rest of Tripp Lake.

"I like it here," I say. "It's beautiful. It's peaceful."

"It's boring. It's empty."

"It's not empty. We've got this place, the café, the lake. There's tons of things here."

"You could live in Seattle. You could live in New York. You took all those AP classes. You're smart. Why come back here?"

No matter how many times I say it, it doesn't seem like Alex is inclined to believe me, but I don't have any deeper explanation to offer to him.

"I just like it," I say.

"That's all?"

"That's all."

He looks like he's about to say more, but my phone buzzes, vibrating on the tabletop where our remaining pizza cools. I would ignore it, but when I grab it to flip it over and do just that, I catch my roommate's name and a string of text on the home screen.

Are you around? I need you to come home. Emergency.

I don't realize I'm grimacing at the screen until Alex says, "What's wrong?"

"Sorry, it's my roommate. Some kind of emergency at the house."

I glance at the pizza, at Alex sitting across from me looking so handsome and interested. God, how I want to tell Max to take care of it himself. But what if something's broken? What if he needs help? I sigh in surrender.

"I'm really sorry," I say. "It looks like I need to go. You can have the rest of the pizza."

I start to stand. Alex's eyes follow my every move, and a kernel of hope wriggles into my chest, emboldening me.

"Maybe we could … do this again," I say. "If you want to get out of the house or something."

Alex hesitates. Fear chills me as I wonder if my conversational fumbles dashed my chances. Then he nods, slowly, like he can't believe he's doing it.

"Yeah, that would be nice," he says.

I all but float out of that pizza shop.