I flip the page of my Current Issues in Nutrition book even though I didn't absorb a single word I just read. I'm kicked back on the sofa in the pool house. It's covered in brown and orange striped upholstery and looks like something straight out of the seventies. It's cozy, though, and I could definitely use a little comfort right about now.
I rest my open book on my stomach, snatching my cell off the coffee table. I tap on the screen, opening up Instagram. Of my fifteen-thousand followers, over three thousand watched my Livestream today. Thankfully, only two hundred people had tuned in when I went full-Karen on Ty. But since anyone on the World Wide Web could turn me into a gif with a simple screen recording, I'm keeping a very close eye on it. The last thing I need is to become an online laughing stock when I submit my application for the Happy Spoons grant. Especially since my class was a hit and may have given me an actual chance at being chosen.
Everyone seemed to have a great time. I helped them all customize the recipes they brought to substitute natural ingredients. I'm exhausted from hustling back and forth across the room to answer questions and make sure everyone's dishes turned out just right, but it was worth it. Liv got lots of video testimonials from everybody raving about how great the modified recipes tasted. She's going to combine all the clips together, so we can include them with my application.
I push the button on the side of my phone, and it fades to black. As Janet would say, I need to stop worrying about things I can't control. But if I don't keep my mind occupied, I'll start focusing on how guilty I feel over yelling at Ty today. I think he genuinely was there to support me, and I'm not sure what to do with that.
The Ty I used to know would never have gone to a cooking class without pulling some big prank to get a laugh. That Ty could've given Johnny Knoxville a run for his money. It's possible he's changed. Or maybe he just feels bad about what happened in the past, and he's trying to make it up to me. But since we haven't spoken in the past three years, I have no idea what's going through his head. Realizing I don't know who Ty is anymore breaks another piece of my heart.
Ty was my first love and such a huge part of my life. Not knowing him is like waking up one day to find out the sun didn't rise. How am I supposed to navigate the world around me without seeing how he fits into it? And, more importantly, do I even want to?
Every time I'm near Ty, my heart simultaneously leaps and plummets, turning itself into a knot I can't untangle. The chemistry between us is undeniable. I've never been as drawn to another person as I am to Ty. All the memories of the two of us together are fresh in my mind: Ty spending days helping me modify recipes, Ty dancing in the rain with me outside our prom when I said it was my dream rom-com moment, Ty kissing me under a sky of stars and lightning bugs. But all the pain of that last fight is still there too. The hurt of not hearing from him for three entire years is an ugly, raw wound that won't heal.
The air from the ceiling fan catches at the pages of my textbook, flicking them forward and making me lose my spot. I snap the book shut and toss it on the coffee table next to the plate of crumbs—all that's left of the gluten-free cookies I made earlier. I'm about to check Instagram again when the front door swings open, and Liv walks in. Her arms are laden with bags of chips and cans of sparkling water.
"You've got to put that phone away," she says, tossing me a bag of the plantain chips we ordered from Trader Joe's. "I promise you, the internet hasn't changed in the last five seconds, which I'm guessing is how long it's been since you looked."
"You don't know me." I sit up and drop my cell on the cushion beside me. "It's been at least ten seconds."
Liv plops down in one of my mismatched armchairs and slides a can of water to me. It's my favorite flavor, Limoncello.
The wicker chair lets out a groan as Liv settles into it. "So, do you want to talk about it?"
"About having a meltdown in front of half the town and hundreds of people online? Not particularly." I crack open my water and take a sip. The citrusy-sweet bubbles dance over my tongue.
Liv lifts her brow, ice-blue eyes boring into me. "I meant about Ty."
I pop a salty-sweet plantain chip in my mouth, chewing carefully and trying to delay the conversation. I don't know what to think about Ty, let alone how to talk about him. Liv isn't going to let me off the hook that easily, though. She sits watching me chew, waiting for me to say something.
I slump against the couch cushions. "I don't know, Liv. Ty took a wrecking ball to my life and left without saying goodbye. Now he's back and being nice to me. What am I supposed to do with that?"
Liv bobs her head, nodding slowly. "I get that. And you do not have to forgive him if you aren't ready to. I just think you two should talk. Otherwise, you're stuck wondering what he's thinking and assuming the worst until you both look like jackasses on the internet."
"Thanks a lot," I grumble, but I have to admit she has a point. I've been waiting years for Ty to initiate a conversation, which hasn't exactly worked out well for me. And while I still think he should be the one to come and talk to me, I'm not doing myself any favors by being stubborn. We need to clear the air between us once and for all.
I sigh. "Maybe you're right."
Liv grins, opening a bag of Doritos and scooping out a handful. "Duh. I'm always right."
"Don't get carried away." I take another gulp of sparkling water. "Now, can we please talk about something other than the carnage of my former love life? What's going on in yours?"
"In my love life?" Liv scoffs. "Who has time for that?"
Being voted president of her sorority comes with a lot of responsibilities. I know Liv's on the phone with her sorority sisters every night, prepping for the upcoming semester. But she's been making an effort to spend as much time as possible with Betty and me this summer. It's probably the last one we'll all get to have together. Next year, she'll be off in New York, completing her residency.
I'm about to ask her how it's going when a cringe-inducing wail screeches through the open windows like a banshee's mating call.
Liv claps her hands over her ears. "What in the love of Liam Hemsworth is that?"
"Not again." I jump from the couch and rush to the windows, slamming them shut. Gary's back deck is directly on the other side of the fence from the pool house. He's been out there, practicing his rendition of 'I Don't Want To Miss A Thing' by Aerosmith every day this week.
I whirl around to face Liv. We exchange a look and collapse into a fit of giggles. With the windows shut, Gary's voice is muffled, but we can still hear it when he goes for a high note and misses. His voice cracks, echoing through the neighborhood. I'm laughing so hard I'm bent over at the waist, clutching my stomach. Liv's wheezing.
"Please, tell me he's performing that for karaoke night and that we'll be allowed to video it," she says between bursts of laughter. "My sorority sisters never believe me when I tell them how wacky this town is. I need proof."
I swipe at a tear leaking from the corner of my eye. "If you want to subject them to that torture, that's on you." I walk back over to the sofa, accidentally bumping the clipboard on the edge of my coffee table. It clatters to the floor.
"So, who won anyway?" Liv picks up the board, examining the pages. They stick out at odd, stiff angles from being dropped in the puddle.
I groan. "No idea. The ink ran so badly, I can't tell which movie people were even voting for."
"Are you going to make everyone vote again?" The pages crinkle as Liv flips through them.
I shake my head. "I think Ty and I scared enough people out of coming to movie night already."
"Good point." Liv bites into a chip. "You two clearly can't handle the responsibility. You need an impartial third party to do it."
I wince as Gary hits the bridge of the song. "Any suggestions?" I raise my voice to be heard over the cacophony.
"Mom and I can do it during the kickball game tonight." Liv opens a can of sparkling water and sips before wrinkling her nose and setting it down on the coffee table. Water doesn't meet Liv's minimum sugar requirement. I'm surprised she even tried it.
I snort. "Right. And the two of you are supposed to be impartial?"
Liv shrugs. "Well, we're slightly less partial anyway."
Gary croons the final note, his voice echoing through the room.
"It's fine by me if you can convince Ty." My eyes drop to the tile floor. Just saying his name makes my heart twinge with guilt.
Liv leans forward, elbows resting on her knees. "Okay, but for real. You two need to talk. Soon."
"We'll see." I frown, but I reach for my phone as Gary starts again from the beginning. I seriously need to invest in a pair of earmuffs.
I go to my contact list and scroll to Ty's name, something I haven't done in years. His picture is a selfie I took of the two of us down by the lake. We're both smiling hugely, looking young and head-over-heels in love. Seeing it stings like tugging on a t-shirt when your shoulders are sunburned. I hit the message button, trying not to look at the photo. Before I can change my mind, I type out the most honest text I can muster.
Me: I'm sorry. Seeing you again has just brought back a lot of old feelings. I was way out of line today. Thank you for trying to be there for me.
I shove the phone under a couch cushion, so I won't be tempted to watch for his response. Liv and I spend the afternoon typing up and printing new movie ballots and getting ready for the kickball game. I interrupt Gary's recital long enough to double-check that he knows what time to be at the field since he's refereeing. I also call Giselle to see if she needs any help with the corndogs the students from the high school will be passing out during the game, which she doesn't.
After Betty gets home from her lunch date, we get decked out in blue t-shirts. Liv refuses to change out of her black maxi dress, but she does tie a blue bandana around her wrist like a bracelet. The entire town dresses in either red or blue for the game. We never know who will show up in what color or which team they'll be on. It's, admittedly, an imperfect system. But since almost everyone picks the same colors every year, it's more predictable than you'd think. The three of us never actually play kickball, but we love cheering on—or, in Betty's case, heckling—the players from the stands.
Before I know it, it's time to leave for the game, and Ty still hasn't texted me back.