Always Forever Maybe Read online

  I shook my head. I worried for her about Sydney being both straight and taken, but if she preferred to joke about it, I would follow her lead. “Nope. You challenge him to a duel. It’s classier and more romantic. Shows how much you value her. And it’s a good excuse to wear a cape.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Maybe I could skip the violence and offer her parents a higher dowry. Reverse dowry?”

  “It’s called a bride price,” I said.

  She shot me the obligatory you read too much look, then jumped. “I’ll outbid him for her on eBay! That’s the modern way to get the girl.”

  “It beats throwing rocks at her window.”

  We stopped outside the door to my homeroom. Jo leaned against a locker. “Seriously, though. Tell me what you think I should do.”

  “I will,” I said. “But we do need more information.”

  “All I know about her is she’s hot and smart and awesome. She uses black felt micro-tip pens, even for math, and doodles in her notebooks constantly. And she went on that date with Jeremy Packer last year where he took her to the zoo and tried to kiss her in front of the monkey cage, but the monkeys started screaming and pelting him with their poop, so he ran off and left her there, and everyone called him Monkey See, Monkey Doo-Doo for like a month. But that tells you more about him than her, I guess.”

  “Is that even true?” I asked.

  Jo shrugged. “Who cares? It’s a great story.”

  “At least it sets the bar for dates pretty low.”

  The first bell rang and Jo straightened. “That’s my cue,” she said. “I’ll see you later. Don’t cry.”

  That was my cue. “I’m not crying. My eyeballs are drooling for more oatmeal cookies.”

  “Good,” she called, walking away. “You’ll have some. After school. Text your parents!”

  I waved at her back and ducked into class.

  Four

  I DIDN’T HAVE A PLAN BUT I DID MAKE A LIST, TO HELP Monday move faster and keep my expectations in check. It started, He probably: 1. Has a girlfriend 2. Flirts with everyone 3. Wasn’t flirting even, really 4. Was just being nice 5. Sold his soul to get those eyelashes 6. Has forgotten I exist 7. Is way out of my league anyway 8. Would never make a freaking list 9. Couldn’t see straight into my heart to find the very core of my existence, no matter how much it felt like he was doing exactly that. And so on and so forth, until the last bell rang. I tucked the notebook into my bag and tried to forget about him, too.

  But another list, the one I wouldn’t write down, scrolled in my brain like a news ticker. He buys cute, thoughtful gifts for his sister. My name sounds so right in his voice. He saw my dorky, awkward side and still liked me. It takes two to light a spark like that.

  “You’re pathetic,” I told the inside of my locker. Its metal door clanged shut.

  I turned and Jo materialized, mid-rant. “Why even become a teacher if you completely hate humans?” she said as we let the tide of people carry us down the main hall, out the front entrance, and into the light of day. “He’s sadistic. These tests are designed to be failed. And not so we’ll study harder or learn more from them, just so we’ll be miserable and tortured and screwed and he can mock us and feel superior.” I pulled out a pack of gum and offered a piece to Jo, but she would not be distracted by cool mint. “It’s sick. I used to love history. Remember learning about oral traditions and folktales around the world with Ms. Chopra in sixth grade? That was awesome. Why can’t we do that again? We’re not even memorizing useful names and dates, just the most obscure ones he can think of. The most obscure, white, male ones he can think of.”

  “Well, it is called history,” I said. We turned toward the senior parking lot, where Jo and Eric had left their little blue car, the Wildebeest. I loosened my scarf and didn’t bother with the hat—it was at least thirty degrees warmer than when I’d walked into the school building, eight hours before. Like I said: layers. Layers were key.

  “They should rename that class the God-Awful History of Everything Not Important. And if I get a D, it shouldn’t count.”

  Like Jo had gotten anything close to a D in her entire life. She could sleep through the test, drool out her answers, and still score a B-plus. But it wasn’t my job to point that out. The myth that we both worked equally hard at things was better left unchallenged. “Aren’t you the one who lectured me on how I shouldn’t care about grades anymore now that we’re second-semester seniors?” The sea of students parted and my feet halted of their own accord. “Oh my god.”

  “What?”

  I gripped Jo’s arm. “That’s him. That’s him that’s him that’s him. Straight ahead. Leather jacket. Perfect face. Don’t look.”

  Jo looked. “With the motorcycle?”

  I looked too. He was, in fact, leaning against one. I’d missed that. I had also missed the black helmet tucked underneath his arm.

  He lifted his chin. Saw me. Smiled.

  All of a sudden, it was no longer winter, and a flock of songbirds hatched from my heart and took flight, throwing me completely off guard. Jo pushed me and I walked toward him, feeling the heat of his gaze as I approached. The heart birdies chirped and looped and soared, like we were in a freaking fairy tale—the good kind. I noticed his stubble and wished for the scrape of it.

  “Hey, cupcake,” he said.

  “Hey, frog hunter.” This was too completely surreal.

  “Want a ride?”

  I looked around for something to confirm this was truly happening. My eyes landed on Jo standing a few feet behind me. She wasn’t even trying to keep her jaw shut.

  I turned back to Aiden. “On that?” I asked, and gestured toward the motorcycle.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Or I give a mean piggyback ride if you’d prefer.”

  My brain flashed on a picture of him galloping around the living room with his nerdy little sister holding on tight. Adorable.

  In the next instant, the image shifted, and I saw my arms around his shoulders, my face pressing into his neck. His grip firm under my legs, hair falling into his eyes. Both of us laughing and squeezing each other closer. It felt like a premonition, a flash forward into our future. I already knew we were infinite. Inevitable.

  Still, I hesitated. It’s not that I didn’t want to go or was incapable of spontaneity, but I grew up in a house with a lot of rules. I wasn’t even allowed in a car with anyone who hadn’t had a license for six months. I’d never explicitly been told the rule about getting on the back of a motorcycle with a guy I’d just met whose last name, intentions, and driving record I didn’t know, but instinct told me I could be grounded well into my forties. Though since my parents hadn’t yet thought to make the motorcycle rule, I supposed I wouldn’t technically be breaking it. Especially if they didn’t find out.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “My mother warned me never to go piggyback riding without wearing a helmet.”

  Aiden nodded gravely and reached behind him. “Safety first,” he said, producing a dark pink helmet with purple glittery flames on the sides. It looked shiny-new. “This one’s mine,” he said. “You can wear the black one.”

  He’d brought me a helmet. I wondered if putting it on would stop my brain from doing so many cartwheels.

  “Wait, how did you know I go to this school?” I asked, reason catching up to me. He’d been the only thing I could think about for the past twenty-one hours, but that didn’t mean we actually knew each other.

  “I didn’t.” He shrugged. “I guess I got lucky.” I don’t know what my face did in response to that but, seeing it, he added, “Bee. You look exactly like a Franklin Magnet kid. It’s stamped all over you.”

  Whatever that meant. It was funny to hear, since I had never felt like I fully fit in here. I had Jo, and because Jo had Eric, we’d never been outcasts. We had friends. Eric’s popular-boy shine lent us only limited glow, but neither of us had ever needed all that much besides each other.

  I didn’t want Aiden thinking I was like everyone
else at this school. I no longer wanted to belong here. I wanted to belong with him.

  He held out the helmet.

  I glanced around for any teachers, staff, or administrators who might possibly report back to my mom. I didn’t see any, but I did spot Tyson, my ex. He was talking to some girls but most definitely watching us—watching me in that distant, uninterested way that said whatever I was up to, he didn’t expect much from it. It was exactly the kind of subtle dismissiveness and belittlement I’d put up with for too long in our relationship. But I was done with letting Tyson make me feel unworthy.

  That settled it. I shot an apologetic look to Jo, who mouthed Go!, and took the pink helmet from Aiden. It was surprisingly heavy.

  Pulling the helmet down over my head, I threw my leg over the back of the bike and slid onto the seat, right behind him. I hesitated only a fraction of a second before moving even closer and putting my arms around his torso, like it was no big deal, like I wrapped my arms around him all the time, like I was some kind of pro at this. Like I was the star of this movie.

  I felt everyone in the parking lot watching us as Aiden revved the engine and said, “You got me? Hold on tight.” I snuck one last peek at Jo, who stood, grinning, with a sweetly confused Lexa and a frowning Eric now beside her. I leaned into Aiden and, just like that, we left them all behind.

  Five

  WE TOOK OFF DOWN THE STREET AND I FELT INSTANTLY free, and instantly freezing. Cold air and adrenaline blasted through me as we accelerated into the curves. The motorcycle tilted with the slant of the road and I forced myself not to panic. I leaned against Aiden’s calm, confident frame and poured my trust right into him. There was no other choice to be made. I’d already decided yes to all of it.

  Exhilaration flooded my body as I surrendered control, gave in to the moment, and gave up all feeling in my fingers. I understood now why Aiden favored leather. My chunky knit gloves were adorable but insufficient. I didn’t care.

  Whatever anyone had thought of me before this, they were wrong. I was wrong. Apparently I was the kind of girl who would do something wild and impulsive, because look, I was doing it.

  Everything about this was worth it.

  “Where are we going?” I shouted over the roar of the engine and the rush of the wind. I hadn’t told him where I lived—not that he could take me there—and I realized I had no idea where we were headed.

  “What?” he shouted back.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I can’t hear you!”

  “Never mind.” I tightened my arms around his chest and just held on for the ride. I didn’t even know this boy, but I knew I would let him take me anywhere.

  “You owe me a story.” Aiden peeked at me over the lid of his coffee cup. Green. His eyes were green. I wanted to eat them.

  “I do?” I asked. We were walking on a path along the waterfront. He’d taken me to the lake. He’d picked me up on his motorcycle and driven me to the lake and bought me a hot beverage to warm my cold hands while we walked beside the water, which sparkled almost golden in the low winter sunlight. It was the most romantic fucking day of my life.

  “Yeah, about your name. Why you’re Bee or Betts but your name tag says Joanna. You said it’s a long story and I want to hear you tell it.”

  “Oh. Right.” I sipped from the cup that was bringing my fingers back to life, and wished it contained something other than coffee. I had been too embarrassed to order chai or hot chocolate after he’d asked for his coffee black, but I should have gotten a mocha, or at least added sugar and cream. I knew black coffee was an acquired taste but I hoped it wouldn’t take too many more sips to acquire it. “It’s not that long a story. My first name’s Joanna and my last name is Betts. But in sixth grade there were three other Joannas in my class, including my best friend, Jo. We all got different nicknames so it wouldn’t be too confusing. The girl who kept Joanna actually moved to Minneapolis or Missouri or something, halfway through the year, but by then I was already Bee, Jo was Jo, and the fourth girl, who refused to take a nickname, got stuck with OJ.”

  “OJ?”

  “Other Joanna.”

  “Ouch,” he said.

  “Yeah,” I confirmed. “She hates it. Especially since a few of the assholes in our class used to follow her around saying stupid stuff like, ‘Mmm, extra pulp.’ But she’s OJ. Even teachers call her that.”

  “Well, teachers are assholes too.”

  “Sometimes,” I agreed. A gust of wind blew a few unruly hairs into his face and I resisted the urge to tame them. “At home I’m called JoJo, but by junior high I was ready to switch that out for something you might not name your pet monkey.”

  “Aw, I’d totally name my pet monkey Betts,” he said. “Can’t you just see it, riding around in a little sidecar attached to my motorcycle? It could wear little monkey goggles and blow a bugle horn.”

  I smiled. “And if you bought it a monkey wrench, it could fix up the motorcycle whenever you broke down.”

  He took a swig of his coffee. The errant hair fell back into place. “I don’t need any help fixing Ralph. I rebuilt her myself from parts.”

  “Wow.” And here I’d been proud that I knew how to drive a stick shift. “Wait, your bike’s name is Ralph? And Ralph is a girl?”

  “All motorcycles are female,” he said. If I were Jo, I would have jumped all over that, but he didn’t say it like a jerk. “A condition of my getting her was that I had to do all the work to restore her myself. I think my dad figured I’d never be able to do it, but when I really want something, I make it happen.”

  I liked that about him. “And the name?”

  “She’s named after Ralph S. Mouse—you know, the mouse with the motorcycle in those Beverly Cleary books?”

  I nodded even though I hadn’t read those. I had been more of a Beezus and Ramona kind of girl.

  “The mouse is male, but whatever.”

  “Um, that’s adorable,” I informed him.

  He looked pleased and a little embarrassed. “My mom read me the whole series when I was, like, seven, and I got completely obsessed with it. We made this awesome paper mouse mask so I could be Ralph for Halloween. Ears, snout, whiskers, the works. I remember I could barely see out the eyeholes, but I swore that I could because I wanted to be allowed to keep it on while I biked around for trick-or-treating. I didn’t want to break character.”

  I couldn’t remember my mother ever helping me with a craft project. Whenever I so much as got out a bottle of glue, she warned me to be careful about making a mess, as if I were still three years old. We’d always had store-bought Halloween costumes. “She sounds like a good mom.”

  His face went still, and for a second I thought he was angry. “She was, before the cancer. She’s not around anymore.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. We kept walking and the water kept sparkling, and I wondered what it did to a boy to live through something that sad. He’d had to be so much stronger than I would ever be. “How old were you when she got sick?” I said, hoping it was okay to ask. He’d already shared more of himself than Tyson had in almost four months. Ty was his own favorite topic of conversation, of course, but he was too wrapped up in his enormous ego to truly let anyone else inside. He would never reach Aiden’s levels of maturity and self-awareness.

  “Fourteen. I was pretty messed up about it for a while,” Aiden said. “I got mad at the world and kind of lost my shit. Started fights and caused trouble, talked back to teachers over stupid stuff. Got suspended a bunch of times. Failed most of my classes because I didn’t do any of the work.”

  He tipped back his head to sip the last of his coffee and I tried to imagine this sweet, earnest guy throwing fits and random punches. It didn’t compute.

  He tossed his cup in the trash. “By the time Mom was gone, I’d gotten kicked out of high school. My dad tried to make me enroll somewhere else, but I was done. It all seemed like bullshit an
d I didn’t want to play along with what anyone else thought I should be doing. I just said ‘fuck it’ to everything.”

  His voice was intense but the words were so honest and raw, I wanted to wrap him up tight and protect him from all his pain. Yet I didn’t quite dare to touch him.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I don’t usually tell people all this stuff.” I shook my head. He didn’t need to apologize. “There’s just something about you that makes me feel like I can trust you with anything.”

  My blood went effervescent. “You can,” I said. I was glad he did. It made me want to prove him right. It made me want to prove myself worthy. “So you . . . built a motorcycle? And got better?”

  The smile spread up his face and into his eyes and I no longer needed the coffee for warmth. “Kind of,” he said. “That was part of it. Having a project I had to work hard at, and showing myself and everyone else that I could do it—that was huge. And I just finally grew up a little, I think. I realized I’d been lashing out at the wrong people over all the wrong things. Setting a terrible example for my baby brother and sister. Causing all kinds of extra trouble for my dad. None of them deserved that. And I was screwing myself over too. So I pulled it together and got a job and a GED, swore off drinking and all that shitty behavior, and started trying not to be such an ass all the time.”

  “Is it working?” I teased.

  He poked me with his elbow. “You tell me.”

  “Hmmm.” I tried to look critical. “I may not have collected sufficient data to draw a firm conclusion yet.”

  Aiden took out his keys and I realized we had already looped back to where we’d started. “Then you’ll have to let me see you again. We’ll conduct further studies. For the sake of science.”

  “Okay,” I agreed. “For science.”

  We grinned at each other for at least eight extra beats, and for one heart-pounding second I was certain he would kiss me, but he pulled out his phone instead. “Tell me your number?”

  He punched in the digits and hit send so I would have his too. I checked my screen to see one missed call from him and seven texts from Jo. It was later than I’d thought. I put the phone away. “I’d better get back before my parents freak out.”