Jamie trusts me.
"I can't kiss you."
"No, you can't," he says, his mouth hot against my neck. "We're doing all we can."
"But it's just over a year," I tell him. "If we’re still waiting, it's just over a year."
"We're still waiting. Of course we are. We're almost there."
Chapter Nine: Jamie
(I Waited Outside His Door)
This time, I'm the one to take Harper on vacation after the school year ends. The two of us start with a week in New York City. Our trip is loaded with incredible food and incredible shows and incredible museums. I'm only met with a small amount of attention from the hockey world when I stop by the NHL store in Manhattan. When we move on from there, we spend a week in Boston. We visit a few old acquaintances of mine, eat more amazing food, and explore historical landmarks until Harper tells me she's tired. I know she's giving me a reason to rest my leg.
In both cities, we tour universities that would like her to commit to playing soccer for them. Harper isn't sure she wants to go to college so far from home, and I'm going to struggle with her going anywhere. She has a little more time to decide, and I’ll support her regardless.
While we're gone, she calls her new boyfriend—Zaiden has been replaced by a swimmer named Dean—as often as she can. I send Mateo dozens of pictures, but he and I don't talk, and I miss his voice more than I should. He sends me dozens of replies and tells me hemisses me, too.
Harper and I get back to California at the beginning of July, but by then, Mateo has gone with Sophie and a couple of other teachers up to Lake Tahoe for the holiday. I watch fireworks from my backyard.
After that, though—
After that, we have some of the best months of our lives.
For the rest of that summer, we keep Harper in the dark, just like we'd planned. The bar remains a relatively safe place for us to go, but we’re ready to try spending time anywhere else, however cautious we are at first. I hold excuses for the public on the tip of my tongue the night I’m finally introduced to Sophie, but Mateo’s favorite Mexican restaurant does me the favor of serving great food under shitty lighting. From a table in the corner, the three of us get tipsy on the same happy hour margaritas he tells me he once ditched for a sad batch of his own.
We catch an outdoor concert after sundown, and most people around us are too drunk or high to care who we are. We wander further from potentially curious fans or students, and drive up and down the coast for miles and miles. Sometimes we find something to do in either direction, and sometimes we're happy simply talking to each other or singing along with somebody's favorite songs. When we stay close to home, we meet at the mall or the pier and walk around from there, prepared to explain it away as a happy accident when we run into anyone we know. If we’re captured in a stranger’s picture, the space between us will fit a few denials.
In between it all, we talk. Sometimes I keep him up too late on a weeknight because it's hard to say goodbye. Sometimes he wakes me early on a weekend morning, when my voice is still gravelly and Harper is sound asleep.
It's nice to tell the truth more often. I enjoy getting my way. It'salso nice when Mateo gets his, and he holds me.
When we want to be close to each other, we do it on the nights Harper is at her mom’s or out with friends. My house is obviously larger and fancier and full of high-end bullshit as far as the eye can see, but I almost always go to Mateo's apartment just in case she returns unexpectedly. And it's fine, really. He and I mostly end up wrapped around each other, so I'm not sure it matters how big the couch is. His queen bed is fine, too.
I still react too strongly when he touches me, but I'm not sure that matters either.
"I love it—knowing how I make you feel," Mateo murmurs against my skin before he pulls back to be friends again. "I’ll want to know for the rest of our lives."
It's unfair how much I want to kiss him for that, and I bite his shoulder instead.
In the middle of the summer, Harper gets a part-time job because she wants to save her own money for when she moves out. I tell Mateo about it on another one of our nights together.
"She's a hostess at a restaurant on the water, and she loves it so far. Gets along with everyone she works with. Chats with everyone waiting for a table."
"I'm not even a little surprised."
I laugh. "No, I didn't really figure you would be."
"And I'll probably hear a lot about it from her throughout the school year."
"Juggling a job, a boyfriend, and soccer should be interesting."
"Juggling a job, a boyfriend, soccer,andclass with the new AP English teacher," Mateo smiles.
Vaguely, I remember a conversation in my kitchen, when Harper had gone on and on about her first week of high school and someone she’d called Mr. Z. She'd said something back then about him takingover the AP class when another teacher retired. I was busy being head over heels for a guy named Mateo, and so much of that time was lost to daydreams. I blink hard now and push bittersweet memories away.
"Does that change things?" I ask. "Between us, I mean."