I was expecting some reminder of the rules, like no boys in the house when they aren’t home, or me texting if I’m going out with one alone, notthat.
“I’m not really interested in dating right now,” I tell him. I cross my ankles and lean against the doorframe.
“You can, though. You’re allowed to date—”
“I know I’m allowed to date,” I remind him.
“You just never… have,” he says slowly, considering me a little too intensely.
“What are you getting at?” I ask, forcing a smile in hopes I can keep the conversation light and vague.
“I just mean that you’re allowed to date. And I hope that if you do meet a boy you like, you know that you can talk to us about it.”
I swallow the bitterness simmering in my throat. If I meet aboy, I can talk to them about it.
I sigh, ready to retreat to my room. “If I meet a boy that I like, you’ll be the first to know—after Kristen, of course.”
He cracks a smile. “Of course.”
After dinner and a shower, I close myself in my room and open FaceTime to call Hannah. She answers after a couple rings, her face lighting up the screen.
“Hey, you,” she says softly, her eyes warm.
“Hey,” I say, though it comes out on a deep breath as reliefwashes over me. I’ve been waiting all evening—allafternoon—for this. “I’m sorry about earlier.”
Her smile is faint. “I get it, Clarity.”
“There’s something else,” I say, taking another deep breath. She waits, her brows pinching with concern. “Kristen surprised me with a double date with Maurice today.”
Hannah’s eyes widen slightly, but she stays quiet.
“I thought she just wanted to hang out, but we got there and then Maurice just showed up. Nothing happened; we just talked and ate at Rockne’s. But I didn’t want to keep it from you.”
Hannah doesn’t look away. Her face softens a little, which eases some of my nerves. “I get why you went with Kristen. And I get that this kind of stuff is going to happen. It has to if using Maurice as a cover is going to be believable. I don’t love it—I especially don’tlovethat you got to have a first date with yourfakeboyfriend before yourrealgirlfriend. But I’m not mad.”
“He’s not my boyfriend. He’s not my fake boyfriend. He’s supposed to be a guy I’m getting to know,” I say, because I don’t find her joke funny. Even though she’s not serious, she’s the only person I can acknowledge the truth with, and I need to do that to keep my wires uncrossed and to keep myself sane.
“I wish you didn’t have to hide who you are.”
“I wish that too. I promise I’m going to find a way to make this better.”
Hannah nods slowly. “I know you will—wewill. In the meantime, just be honest. I appreciate that you told me, and I think as long as we communicate, our plan will work.”
“Always,” I promise. “I’ll always be honest with you.”
She looks away, hesitation etched across her face. “What is it?” I ask, my voice soft and quiet.
“I understand that we have to keep up appearances, but I don’t want to be your secret all the time.”
No matter how understanding Hannah can be, I can see that I hurt her. Again.
“You’re not just a secret to me. You mean everything to me, Hannah.” I want to be reassuring, but right this second, I feel a bit helpless. “I’ll make it up to you. After your scrimmage on Friday, let’s hang out.”
“What would you want to do?” Her voice lifts enough for me to know I’ve said the right thing. I want to show up for her, make her feel how important she is to me.
“I’ll pick a café for us to go to, somewhere away from Stow, where we don’t have to worry about anyone seeing us.” The prospect of finally following through, of being the way we used to be at camp here—well, close to here—makes me giddy. I do mini flutter kicks under my covers.
“Friday, then,” Hannah says.