“Weirdo.”
He laughs. “I know. You don’t have to feel the same way about me, but you shouldn’t think, you know, that you don’t inspire that feeling. It’s the farthest-ever thing from true.”
I don’t know how to answer him with words, so I turn to kiss him. I tell him with my lips on his that he is a wonder on this earth.
—
When I wakein the morning, Tatum is gone.
There is a note.At work. Tickets are for tonight.
For a moment, I feel simply happy. Nothing else. I’m just a girl who’s fallen for a boy who’s fallen for her, a girl with an actual date that night, going to see a band she likes.
50
Riding behind Tatumon the scooter is very different from when I rode behind him before.
Through the canvas of his jacket, I feel the muscles of his waist shift as he leans into a turn. I’m conscious of my knees touching his legs and the heft of his shoulder as I look over it onto the road.
The Wooden Cage show is on the main street of Oak Bluffs. We lock our helmets to the scooter and stroll down the block, whichis busy with tourists on this summer evening. The movie theater is showingJaws.Tatum tells me they screen it every year.
People walk with ice cream cones. Some teenagers are standing in front of a pizza place, just hanging around like teenagers do pretty much everywhere in the world. A couple of them say hi to Tatum, and he nods, but we don’t stop.
The place we’re going is a bar. I put my hand on his arm. “I don’t have an ID. Did you think I had a fake ID?”
He shakes his head. “Don’t worry. I’ve known the guy who works the door for years. He coaches the high school soccer team. And the woman behind the bar was a chaperone for away games.”
“You played soccer?”
“Uh-huh. Did you think I lived under a rock?”
“I thought you lived in the castle. And followed the castle suggestions.”
“There’s never been a suggestion that you shouldn’t play soccer,” says Tatum, laughing. “Anyway. They won’t serve us alcohol, but when there’s a good band, they kinda look the other way and let the local kids in.”
“Why don’t you talk to your old friends from high school?” I blurt.
“I talk to them. We literally just said hello back there.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I don’t.”
“You used to play soccer, you used to have a girlfriend. There are pictures on your wall. But you don’t seem to see anyone anymore.”
“You know I’m antisocial.”
“I don’t think you are, actually.”
“You’ve changed your mind?”
“I saw you with Holland and her friends. You didn’t hang back, you talked to all of them. You weren’t even shy.”
He half laughs and reaches for my hand. “I’m not shy.”
“So why didn’t you want to see those girls again?”
“I’m just not that into them.”
