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“Here, sit,” he placed me gently on the top step of the deck.

I lay back on the wood almost immediately and looked up at the stars, at the big fluffy clouds. They were like cut-outs of sheer white tights shaped like a pile of cotton balls, and I could see the stars twinkle through them.

He lay back with me.

We were quiet for a few seconds. I rested my crossed fingers on my chest, and could feel the words in my hands as I spoke them.

“Bobby, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t sweat it.”

I felt his reply vibrate in my back, through the wooden deck.

“No, really though,” I went on. “I mean, I’m sorry I was a brat, and…I shouldn’t have said those things I said.”

He sat up on his side and looked at me.

I looked at him.

“What things?” he asked.

“Those things about you being trouble.”

“Well,” he smiled.

There were those damn dimples again.

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“You never actually said that I was trouble. You sort of hinted in a sarcastic manner that you were the least likely between the two of us to get into trouble, but you never actually said I was trouble.”

“Yeah, well…”

“Yeah, well.”

We were quiet again.

Then I said, “Don’t you owe me an apology?”


“Bossing me around?”

“Hey, that was for your own good. But I am sorry if I hurt your feelings or what not.”

“Or what not?” I asked.

“Yeah, I mean…” he shifted. “I mean, I’m sorry that you didn’t like how I spoke to you. I was just worried about you and Karen, you know. You were walking around screaming about the Jamisons and the streets, high off your bottoms, and you’d left her car in front of their house. It was like you weren’t using your brain you know. And I just…”

“You seriously sound like a buzz kill right now,” I said, sitting up. “I mean I thought I was the square.”

“I did too,” he said with a smile. “That’s why I was worried.”

“Good one.”

“I thought so.” He reached forward to touch my hair, and it was almost working out like it should in the movies. I thought maybe he might kiss me. I wanted to kiss him, but I had too many nerves about it, and I was battling intoxication.

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