"Good choice. My dad makes the best fried catfish." He tips his head behind me. "Can you grab that bucket? It's better to keep them in water when it's this hot." When I return with the bucket, he says, "Think you can catch another one?"
I shrug. "I can't really take credit for the first one. Your dad baited the hook and cast the line. I literally sat here and held the pole."
"Holding the pole is ninety percent of fishing," he says as he puts the fish in the bucket. "So, where are you from? You just moved in a few months ago, right?"
"Um, I'm not really from anywhere. We've never stayed anywhere long enough to call any place home, but I was born in Tennessee."
"That's kind of cool, though." He puts another worm on a hook. "Seeing new places all the time sounds like fun."
"Maybe." I reclaim my seat on the rock. "But it gets lonely. It's just me and Mom, and we never stay long enough for me to make any real friends."
"I'll be your friend," he says as he casts the line.
A snort escapes. "You'll be my friend now?" I question skeptically. "You didn't even want me to come today." I tap my chin. "Let's see, I think you said, 'Don't take the girl.'"
He runs his hand through his dark hair, closes the distance between us, and extends the fishing pole to me. "That was before."
I push at the pole. "No, that's okay. I don't want you to be my friend because you feel sorry for me." I draw up my legs, wrap my arms around my knees, and look anywhere but at him.
He taps me with the handle of the pole. "That's not why I offered to be your friend. You're good at holding a fishing pole and picking a spot. Plus, you didn't freak out when I suggestedeating the fish. I totally expected you to lose it." He laughs. "Most of the girls I know would have."
That makes my lips curl. I've never been a girly girl, but I wouldn't say I'm a tomboy either. The only hobby that has stuck is junk journaling. Moving around all the time makes it hard to settle into anything, but I enjoy collecting mementos from the places I get to see. With that in mind, I take the rod. Why not? I'm wasting time being self-conscious and embarrassed. If London Hale wants to be my friend, I should take it. When and if something terribly tragic happens where I embarrass myself beyond repair, my mom will accept an offer in a new city, and all of this will be nothing more than a forgotten memory.
"Friends," I say, taking the pole. "For now, anyway."
"For now?" His brow furrows.
"Yeah, you'll get attached, and then I'll have to marry you someday."
That makes him laugh a deep belly laugh that has my whole face lighting up. I know what I said; he doesn't have to know a small part of me would love that ending. Right now, I'm just a girl who knows how to pick the best spots to cast, isn't grossed out by eating fish, and loves to crack jokes. For now, we're just friends.
"You're funny, Laney, but I can't marry you."
"And why not?"
"Easy. I'm never getting married. If you like someone, the secret to keeping it that way is never marrying them." I'm not sure what to say to his stance, and when I say nothing, he side-eyes me expectantly. "No argument?"
"No, that sounds fair. We're ten." Trying to convince him he's wrong isn't a battle I care to have.
"Speak for yourself. I'm eleven." He mindlessly flips open his pocketknife, opening and closing its different parts. "Your parents were married, I guess," he says as he uses the edge of his blade to clear dirt from the crevices of the soles of his tennis shoes.
"No, I never met him."
"Did he leave or something?"
I don't like talking about my dad. It's why I was ready to head back to the truck earlier. I'm sure he picked up on that, but his persistence now feels different. Something about it feels genuine, so I don't storm off. However, I also don't want to talk about things that make me sad.
I hold up my fishing pole. "Look at me. Who would leave me?" I laugh, but even London can tell its false bravado. Rejection hurts, and for the first time today, I sense he knows a little something about what I'm feeling. Unlike him, I pay attention. I've noticed there isn't a Mrs. Hale.
His mouth tugs into a sympathetic half-smile before he says, "I won't leave you." My smile fades as my stomach twists into knots, and I hold my tongue. His words feel true, and I don't want to mock them, especially when I want to keep them. He returns his eyes to the water. "If I ever do get married…" He hurriedly gets to his feet, and my heart starts to beat out of sync as it hangs on his every word. "She'll know the best spots to fish." His eyes sparkle as they dart back to mine. "Reel it in this time. We got another one."
My eyes hold his until I feel the tug on the end of the pole, and I do as he says, my smile mirroring his. Perhaps "don't take the girl" weren't the bad words I thought they were. Maybe that's just how boys are. Maybe their words say the opposite of what they mean, because I'm pretty sure London Hale just said if he ever got married, I'd be his girl.
Chapter 1
Freshman Year
LANEY
