“My grandma is totally the opposite,” I tell him as we stroll down the sidewalk past the quaint secondhand shops, the bookstore, and the coffee house. “She remembers everything. And I mean, everything. If I so much as even change my earrings, she’s like, ‘Why’d you put those in when you had a perfectly good pair in already?’ ”
Grey glances left then right before he steps off the curb. “Is your grandma as intense as your parents?”
I nod. “She’s pretty much like my mom, which I guess kind of makes sense since she raised her.”
“But you’re nothing like your parents, and they raised you.” He reaches out to take my hand. “I don’t really believe the whole, ‘like mother, like daughter,’ ‘like father, like son’ saying is true. I think sometimes kids end up like their parents, but sometimes they take a totally different route in life.”
When I take his offered hand, he veers right and heads toward the park in the center of the town square.
“I hope I can. I don’t know what I’d do if I ever ended up like my parents. I hope, if I have kids, I treat them better.”
“You will,” he says simply. “You’re too nice to ever become them.”
I smile at that and let him lead the way past the swings and to the back of the park where picnic tables are tucked beneath the canopy of trees.
“What are we doing back here?” I ask as he releases my hand.
He sets his backpack down on the table and drags the zipper open. “Eating lunch.”
“But I didn’t bring a lunch with me.”
“I know. I made you one.”
“You made me a lunch?” God, if Wynter heard this, she’d die. She’s always telling fantasy stories about how one day she’s going to meet a hot guy who takes care of her, treats her right, and cooks her dinner.
“It’s not fancy or anything.” He takes out two sandwiches, two bottles of orange juice, a bag of homemade chocolate chip cookies, and a bag of chips.
“How’d you know I was going to eat lunch with you?” I ask, sitting down.
“I didn’t know, just hoped.” He sits down across from me. “And if you didn’t, I’d just eat all the food myself.”
“You could eat all this food?” I ask, gaping at the spread.
He grins proudly. “And then some.”
He hands me a sandwich, and I dive in, watching as two kids push each other on the swing set while another one watches from the sidelines. It reminds me of the days when Beck, Wynter, and I would take turns pushing each other. Only, one of us would have to be the third wheel and sit on the swing, lamely rocking by ourselves.
“What’s so funny?” Grey asks, flicking a bug away from the food.
“It’s nothing.” I pick up my sandwich and take a bite. “I was just thinking about Beck and Wynter and how we used to play at the park sometimes when we were kids. I’d have to lie to my mom and tell her I was going to church activities. It worked until the leader of the church activities ratted me out.”
“What happened when they found out?” he asks, popping open the bag of chips.
“They wouldn’t let me see my friends for a week straight.” I lick a drop of mayo off my bottom lip and catch him watching me. “They even kept me home from school just so I couldn’t see them there.”
He scoops up a handful of chips from the bag. “If my parents punished me every time I snuck off with my friends, I’d be punished all the time.” He grins as he pops a chip into his mouth. “Thankfully, I won’t have that problem anymore.”
“You still have friends, Grey.”
“No, I don’t. I don’t think I ever really did.”
“Well, mis amigos son tus amigos.”
He blinks at me. “Come again?”
I giggle. “It means my friends are your friends.”
“You’re going to share your friends with me?” He seems entertained by the idea.
“Of course. Isn’t that what good girlfriends do?” I smile then take a big bite out of my sandwich.
“I’ve never had a good girlfriend, so I have no idea.” He opens the bag of cookies. “I’ll take your word for it, though.”
“Good. Consider yourself an official member of the misfits and rebels circle.”
“You guys named yourselves?” he questions, crooking his brow.
“We did when we were younger,” I say, reaching for the bag of chips. “We don’t really call ourselves that now.”
“So which of you are the rebels and which ones are the misfits?”
“Beck and Wynter were the rebels. Willow and I wanted to be misfits. Ari wasn’t around when we were going through that phase, so he never got a title, but if I had to give him one, I’d say he was a misfit.”
He slides a chip into his mouth. “What about me?”
“Hmm . . . I don’t know.” I set the sandwich down and assess him with my head tipped to the side. “After that punch you threw last night and with that whole bad-boy smile you give sometimes, I’m going to have to go with a rebel.”
“Bad-boy smile?” He pretends to have no clue what I’m talking about. I know he does, though.
“That half smile you sometimes do when you’re trying to fluster people.”
“Does it fluster you?” he wonders.
I roll my eyes. “You know it does.”
He dazzles me with the smile, and I throw a chip at him, getting flustered.
He laughs as the chip pegs him in the forehead. “So vicious.”
“Think about that the next time you try to play me for a sucker,” I say, twisting the cap off the bottle of juice.
“I’d never play you for a sucker,” he promises. “I just like teasing you because it gets you to smile, and I like when you smile. It makes me feel like I’m doing something right.”
“I like when you make me smile. I don’t get to do that a lot on the weekends, because I’m always trapped at my house for almost three days straight.” I shrug off the depression crashing down on me. “When I move out, though, hopefully that’ll change.”
He stops mid-bite. “When you move out? As in, you’re going to move out?”
I nod. “As soon as I get a job, I think I’m going to move into Wynter’s pool house with her.”
“Good. I’m glad. I hate the thought of you being in that house with all that verbal”—he looks down at my wrist—“and physical abuse.”
“It’s the first time he’s hurt me like that,” I feel the need to say.
“And it’ll be his last,” he presses, “because, if he does it again, I’ll beat his ass. I don’t care if the guy’s old.”
I hate fighting. I really do. But I like the idea that Grey likes me enough to want to protect me.
“I do have some good news, though, in the midst of all this craziness. That email ended up being from my aunt Ashlynn.”
“How’d you find out?”
“I asked her when her birth date is. I didn’t even know it until last night, so it has to be her.”
He grabs his unopened bottle of juice. “Are you going to meet her?”
“Yeah. Next Friday . . . I’m a little nervous but excited. I mean, I know I’ve only emailed her once and gotten two from her, but she seems nice.”
“If she’s anything like you, then I’m sure she is.”
I smile at that.
“Totally off the subject,” he says, balling an empty sandwich bag up. “But I have to take my sister out tonight, and I was thinking that maybe you could come with us. I know it’s kind of lame, but it’ll give us more time to hang out.”
“I might be able to do that. My grandma’s going to be around until tomorrow, so I could probably get away with making up an excuse to get out of the house.” I smile as I finish off the sandwich, trying not to get too excited that I’m going out with Grey tonight. But I can’t help it. My stomach is so bubbly it feels like a bouncy house.
We finish the rest of our lunch then clean up the garbage and head back to the store, holding hands. I feel like I’m walking on rainbows until I receive a message from my mother.