Wyatt Gulati (12:29): You left your ice cream in the back of my car. I ate it. Sorry.
Wyatt Gulati (12:30): Not really. It was good
"Why are you smiling?"
I looked up, holding one hand to my forehead so I could see Martha even with the sun in my eyes. I hadn't even realized she was looking at me; she had already spent most of our beach trip admiring Jackson's abs as he came in and out of the waves. Meanwhile, I was pretending I didn't notice how nice he looked without a shirt.
"I wasn't."
"You were, I saw it," Martha said, "Oh my god, were you texting a guy? Do you have a thing for a guy and you haven't told me? Jan, like, oh my god –"
"It's not a guy," I interrupted, defensive. "I mean, it's a guy, but he's just my coworker."
"Carter? Logan? Is it Frank? Do you like Frank?"
"What? Frank? No, I never –"
"Who?" Martha gave Jackson another lustful look, and I acted like I was suddenly very interested in the sand near my feet. "Jan, you can tell me."
"It's nothing," I said firmly. "If it was something, I would tell you. You're my best friend. You know everything, trust me."
Martha smiled, leaning back onto her elbows. She tilted her head back, squeezing her eyes shut and sighing one deep breath of contentment. "If anything happens, I need to know, ASAP. I need details. You know me, I, like, thrive off of knowing everyone's business. I need it like regular people need air."
"I'll tell you," I assured her.
"Oh! That reminds me. I can't believe I almost forgot to tell you this. So, I was, like, talking to Andrea, the girl I work with, and she was all like, 'Martha, can I tell you something?' So I'm thinking ..."
Somewhere in the middle of Martha's long, involved story, my eyes drifted back to my phone, and my thoughts circled back around to Wyatt. Just looking at my phone, almost buried in the folds of my towel, could remind me of the day before, when he had patiently explained which pedal was the gas and which one was the break at least seven times.
"... and then she goes, 'do you really think so?' And of course I'm like, duh, yeah, that's why I said it ..."
I nodded vaguely at what Martha was saying as I typed out my response to Wyatt.
Me (12:41): I totally left it there on purpose
Me (12:41): not really
"... and so, as I'm ringing up this lady who is buying, like, literal tons of watermelons, Andrea is texting him ..."
Only a minute later, my phone buzzed.
Wyatt Gulati (12:42): Sorry. There's a little bit left.
Me (12:42): keep it. my treat.
Wyatt Gulati (12:43): Thanks.
"Isn't that crazy?"
"Mhm."
"Jan, you aren't even listening to me, which is actually totally rude."
"Uh huh."
Before I even realized how close she was, Martha was plucking my phone from my hands mid-word. I tried to snatch it back, which just made her raise one eyebrows, her lips already curving into a grin. "Wyatt?" she read, "who's Wyatt?"
"He's –"
"Hey." I was suddenly sitting in a shadow when Jackson walked up, his silhouette suddenly the only thing I could see. I was already blushing from Martha's pestering, but now I must have been bright red.
"Hey!" Martha reached out and grabbed his wrist, scooching over on her towel so he could sit down beside her. "Missed you, boo."
"Missed you too." He leaned over to place a kiss on her cheek.
I tried to give Martha a questioning look, but she wasn't even paying attention to me, my phone forgotten by her side. Already, their legs were tangled together and she had placed one hand on his chest.
"You remember January, right? She came to your party with me, which was so great, by the way. We've known each other since, like, the womb."
Jackson barely even glanced at me. "Yeah, I met her. My sister knows her."
"Wow. Small world, right?"
"Right," he echoed.
Martha tapped her cheek, and Jackson went in for a kiss. Next, he gave her earlobes a couple pecks, then whispered something that made her giggle. When he pulled back, she just moved closer to him, running her nose along his jawline as she muttered something back.
Eventually, I cleared my throat, but they acted like they couldn't hear me.
It wasn't like I particularly minded PDA. If I had someone to snuggle up to on the beach, trust me, I would definitely take advantage of that. But when I first learned Martha had a thing for Jackson, I didn't know I was signing up for the permanent position of third-wheel, and that Jackson would pretend I was nothing special. There was a time that I was the girl he was talking to on the beach, but now, whenever I was around them, it was like I had spontaneously evaporated.
After pretending I couldn't see another round of their quick kisses, I reached for my phone, shading the screen with my hand. I had one text.
Wyatt Gulati (1:00): Time for another driving lesson?
Me (1:06): right now?
Wyatt Gulati (1:08): Yes. That okay?
Before I responded, I glanced up from my screen. Martha had migrated onto Jackson's lap.
Me (1:08): perfect
Me (1:08): I'm at the beach rn
Wyatt Gulati (1:09): Be there in five.
I packed up my beach towel and put on my shorts without either of them noticing. Once I threw my bag over my shoulder and got to my feet, though, Martha looked up.
"I have to go," I told her.
She pursed her lips. "What?"
"I have to leave," I repeated. Now, Jackson looked up at me, finally removing his face from the side of Martha's neck.
"Why though?" Now, she just pouted. "We were just starting to have fun. Fun in the sun, that was the plan. Right, Jack?"
"Right," he confirmed, "I haven't even gotten the booze from my car yet."
"It's one in the afternoon."
"So what? It's fun."
Martha was waiting for me to agree with her. To sit back down in the sand and drink their drinks and laugh at their jokes. But behind me, Wyatt was waiting, in his car that had a comical amount of newspapers and CDs in the back seat, and for some reason, that seemed way more appealing.
"I have to go," I said again, and finally, I actually left.
When I made it to Wyatt's car, I was almost crying, but I couldn't really tell if they would be angry or sad tears. I wrenched the passenger side door open, causing Wyatt to looked up, slightly alarmed.
"Hey," he said cautiously.
"Hi. Give me a second to calm down, then we can talk about pedals and 'ten and two' and stuff. I promise."
Wyatt just nodded, his eyes still slightly wide. I sucked in one deep breath, and then another, before he spoke again.
"You remembered."
"What?"
"Ten and two."
"Oh, yeah," I said, "and the gas is on the right and the brake is on the left."
Wyatt looked like he was about to smile, but then he turned his head towards his window slightly. "You're learning."
"Slowly but surely."
I took one final, deep breath, the sticky feeling in my chest finally subsiding. I didn't have to worry about accidentally angry sobbing in front of Wyatt anymore, who was the least emotional person I had ever met. I couldn't even remember what it sounded like when he laughed. The idea of Wyatt finding anything funny just seemed strange.
"Next lesson," he said after a minute.
"What is it?"
"Steering."
"Okay."
"Okay."
"Okay," I said again, giving him a small smile, "teach me. I'm listening."
***
Even though I had temporarily postponed being upset, it didn't make it go away permanently. At work two days later, I still found myself ignoring Martha's overly chatty texts and sighing randomly when no one else was around to hear it. Eventually, when it got slow at Franny's, I told Rosa I was going to make ice cream and slipped into the back room. Frank, who was allegedly also scheduled on our shift, was a no show, probably because our shift started before he usually woke up.
For a while, I just stood with my forehead resting on Dumbledore, my eyes shut and my brain going a mile a minute. But for the first time that day, I wasn't thinking about Jackson and Martha and alcoholic beverages and driving lessons – I was running through all the potential flavors I had stored away for times just like this.
I remembered that, the day before, Frank Sr. had stuffed the fridge full of fruit from the farmer's market, and, suddenly, it clicked. I grabbed a couple cartons of blueberries from the fridge and poured them into a saucepan I found under the sink, along with some sugar and lemon juice. As it started to simmer, I started to mix together the start of my actual ice cream. That's when Rosa appeared in the doorway.
"What's that smell?"
"Blueberry pie filling," I said. I grabbed a spoon, then extended it to her, "stir, please."
She smiled and raised her eyebrows, but took the spoon, crossing behind me to get to our one, sometimes temperamental stove. "Let me guess, this is for –"
"Blueberry pie ice cream, yes. How'd you know?"
"Well," Rosa stirred the contents of the pan in slow, distracted circles, "you're making pie filling, and you're terrible at baking. That leaves one option."
"A baked good themed ice cream?"
"Exactly."
I laughed. "You know me too well."
"Maybe."
"Maybe? Why maybe?"
Rosa sighed, letting the spoon rest on the side of the pan. I stopped too, holding my whisk in midair. "I didn't know you were dating Wyatt."
"What?"
"You're dating Wyatt?" Rosa repeated, but this time the end went up like a question.
"I'm not. What, no, no way. I think if I was dating Wyatt, I would know about it." I started to whisk my ice cream again, just so I wouldn't have to look at her surprised face.
"I'm so confused," she said, "Martha texted me –"
"What?"
"Yeah, she texted me asking if I knew. And I didn't, I just thought you were being super secretive about it for some reason. I mean, last I knew you had a thing for Jackson."
"I do," I said. It sounded a little aggressive, so I added, "I like Jackson a lot. Or I did. I don't know. Every time I see him now, it's like I'm not there. He doesn't even talk to me directly."
"Then why –"
"I was texting Wyatt at the beach on Tuesday" I explained. "So, apparently, texting a guy about driving lessons qualifies as dating now."
"Driving lessons?" It was Rosa's turn to be flabbergasted.
"Carter didn't tell you?"
"Wait, what didn't Carter tell me?"
"That Wyatt's teaching me how to drive." When I looked up, she was staring. And stirring. The blueberry mixture was starting to bubble. "Only since Sunday. And only for like an hour every once in a while. But since no one can drive me to the ice cream contest in August –"
"You're driving yourself," she finished. "And Wyatt is teaching you."
"Yeah."
I put down my bowl, then took the spoon from Rosa, stirring the blueberries myself. She didn't go back to the register; she took a seat on the counter, leaning against the wall. After a minute, she asked, "Does Martha know?"
"About the driving?"
"Yes. About the driving. I mean, I guess she doesn't, if she automatically assumed you were dating."
I half shrugged as I took my pan off the heat. "It hasn't really come up."
"C'mon."
"What?"
"I don't believe that. Don't you and Martha like just get together and talk about your lives and Wild Roses and eat way too much food? Like what we do? I mean, I know there's way less Mexican food and shouting in Spanish and ABC Family's Harry Potter weekends, but, there's still all that basic bonding stuff, right?"
"Not since she started dating Jackson, so, not since the driving lessons started," I said.
Rosa bit her lip, and she looked like she was on the verge of saying something, but suddenly the door was slamming outside and there was a loud, "Hello? Is anybody working here?"
We both winced – why did they have to yell so loud? – before Rosa hopped off the counter and walked past me. She squeezed my shoulder reassuringly on the way by, and said softly, "I think you should talk to her," before selflessly stepping out to deal with our angry customer.
As I combined the blueberries and the ice cream together, and poured it into The Dinosaur, I thought about what Rosa had said. And then I thought about Martha and Jackson, and then Martha and Jackson together, on an endless loop. After a while, I just stood there, looking into the swirling depths of the soon-to-be frozen dessert, and tried to remember how it felt to not think.