“First of all”—she places the tray on the coffee table—“these are cinematic masterpieces. You can say you’re watching a ‘teen movie’ and everyone knows the exact genre and time period you’re talking about. And second, it’s all about nostalgia.”
“I didn’t realize you were so passionate about remembering your awkward prom night…” I tease.
“Well, considering I never went to prom, I can guarantee it’snot that.” She settles on the opposite end of the couch.
“Why didn’t you go to prom? It’s a rite of passage.”
“I was more of a bookworm, tutoring, no-social-life kind of girl back then. Doesn’t exactly scream ‘take me to prom.’ Ashlie was the popular one. I was the know-it-all.” She looks down and plays with her fingers before grabbing a cube of cheese. “And let me guess, you were exactly as you are now…”
“What’sthatsupposed to mean?” I chuckle.
She points to the TV right as a letterman-wearing jock flips his hair, strolling through the cafeteria. “That.”
“I mean, I played sports, but I did everything else too.”
“Let me guess…football and basketball. Maybe track and field.”
“And swimming. Choir, piano, theater, and debate club?—”
Her mouth hangs open as my extracurricular list grows.
“—STEM, obviously. Oh, and farming club.”
“Farming club?” She shifts to sit cross-legged on the cushion, eyebrows bunching.
“It’s the Midwest. Even if I hadn’t grown up on one, farms abound. Heritage was small enough that I did anything to keep me busy until I could get out. That’s how I graduated from high school early. Nothing else to do.” The way her face glitches makes me want to bite my lip.Surprising her might be my new favorite thing.
“I have so many questions…”
Slinging an arm over the back of the couch, I turn to face her. “Go for it.”
“You graduated early? I didn’t even graduate early.”
“Yep. At seventeen and went right into the Coast Guard.”
“People don’t just graduate early, Trev.”
Trev… My heart leaps to my throat. Everyone uses that nickname all the time, but this might be the first time she ever has. I can’t help but smile. “Welp, I did. Wasn’t that hard. Just a few extra courses in the summer.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“What’s your next question?”
“A Black boy growing up on a farm?”
I laugh. “Yep. I mean, when you’re adopted by Black ranchers, that’s kind of how it works out.”
“Adopted? How did I not know you’re adopted?”
“’Cuz you been keeping me away with a ten-foot pole.” I reach over and nudge her foot with my hand, daring to leave it for as long as she lets me. “My older sister and I were in foster care for a while before our adoptive parents found us.”
“That must have been hard,” she says softly. The silken pads of her fingers slide over my knuckles, giving a subtle squeeze. It takes everything within me not to knit our fingers.
“I was five when the adoption was finalized, so I don’t remember too much other than being excited to have a room of my own. My parents are great, though. It all worked out.” Shrugging, I send over a half smile with my partial truth. There’s more to it, but I always give a feel-good response when anyone tries to delve too deeply into my early years. In my experience, people don’t actually want to hear the sob story of siblings found hiding in a closet amid domestic violence. Happy endings are better received. She holds my gaze as if she can see the shadows underneath my cover story, her thumb steadily stroking the back of my hand. The repetitive zing is hypnotizing. I never want it to stop. “What were you like as a kid?”
She moves her hand from mine, simultaneously blinking away our little moment. The double sensory loss punches me in the chest. “I was quiet, stayed out of the way, and did what everyone expected of me.” The hollow drop in her tone is unbearable. Her eyes darken as if she’s transported into a memory that isn’t quite far enough away. That solid barrier she’s kept in place around me has been a little more translucent tonight, but now, I feel her retreating into the locked away place she mentioned at the party.
“Hey,” I whisper, squeezing her foot to bring her back to me. “Where’d you go, Gem?”
