Between Us and the Moon by Rebecca Maizel Read Free Book Online Page A

act like you’re not interested in people they will actually be more interested in you.
    Scarlett can just throw her shoulders back and not care what people think. I’m only confident when recounting things like the complex theories of black holes.
    A red truck pulls up the side street from Main and stops just beyond me at the top of the hill. A sticker on the back of the rusted bumper says, “If the Doors of Perception Were Cleansed, Everything Would Appear to Man as It Is—Infinite.”—William Blake.
    Who the hell is William Blake?
    “I thought you were paying!” Scarlett’s voice carries up the hill.
    Curtis must have come back with the vodka. They are going to pass before me any second. I tuck deeper behind the Bird’s Nest Dumpster and peek around to look down the street. I guess this vantage point isn’t so great after all. A door closes from the pickup behind me and a familiar frame gets out of the car. I think—I think it’s the blond guy from the beach? The one who laughed and smiled at me. He carries a shirt or a team jersey in his hand.
    The guy ties the arms of the shirt around the tree so it seems to be hugging the bark. It’s not that dark out with the street lamps, but I have to squint. He presses his palm onto the tree trunk and after a moment bows his head and brings his other hand to cover his eyes. His back shudders.
    It clicks—he’s crying. I immediately put away my notebook. It’s wrong to be watching this. This is a very private moment and I should not be here. I step out from behind the Dumpster to hurry down Main Street, away from this guy, and leave him to his privacy. The damn flip-flops crunch on something and echo loudly in the little alley. I try to make a run for it, but my foot shoots out from under me and I grasp onto the side of the Dumpster so I don’t fall. I cry out, the back of my heel scrapes on the asphalt.
    The guy at the tree looks in my direction. Great.
    I brush off my heel and pretend I was just oh so casually coming from the back alley of the string of shops and restaurants.
    “You okay?” he asks and walks down the hill toward me. Before he gets close enough he wipes his eyes on his shirt.
    “Fine.” I groan. I’m a stalker, but I’m fine . “I think I contracted E. coli from the dirty ground,” I add.
    Maybe I could explain my reason for being here? Maybe he would get it?
    When he gets close to me, he steps into the light. His eyes aren’t too red, but they aren’t dry either. He wears a thin T-shirt that is ripped a little on the chest. His tan skin peeks through.
    He looks down and grins sheepishly. “Oh. I just got out of work.”
    Oops. Caught.
    “That’s twice you’ve fallen today,” he says.
    “I’m really much more stable than this,” I say. I need to get out of this alley. I head down to Main Street. He keeps pace with me down the hill. I try not to meet his eyes. He’s cute. His hair is a little long and he is much taller than me too, 6'3"? Maybe 6'4"?
    “I didn’t fall,” I stress. “I had a gravitational issue.”
    He laughs. My cheeks have to be redder than Gracie’s tomatoes, as Gran would say.
    His shoulders are defined too. He probably plays football at his high school. He also doesn’t seem the type to say “gravitational” on the regular.
    “Hey—” he says, stopping next to the Bird’s Nest Diner. “Thanks. I needed that.”
    Needed what? I want to ask, but I don’t know how. It seems oddly personal and I know it’s connected to the jersey tied around a tree trunk. Maybe I should act disinterested and pull a Scarlett. I am about to do Scarlett’s hair-flipping routine when about five hundred yards down the block Scarlett and a gaggle ofpeople parade in my direction. I spin the other way and hurry to the lawn of the library nearby.
    “Hey—wait!” the blond guy calls after me.
    “I gotta go!” I cry.
    “Andrew!” Curtis calls. “Andrew! You’re late!”
    I run to the library. I don’t even look back.