Chapter Nineteen
Nora
By the time we get to the highway, I can’t stand it anymore. I’ve kept my inner control freak at bay for long enough. “So when are you going to tell me where we’re going?”
Eli throws up his hands. “That’s enough! It’s a surprise.”
A wave of discomfort ripples through my stomach. I don’t know why he’s being so mysterious and I hope it doesn’t have anything to do with what happened in the garage the other night. I need to forget about that, stick with my hypothesis. He’s wearing the shirt today, though, the blue-green one, and his hair looks so good, messy and yet, perfect. Also, he’s wearing the glasses, claiming his contacts are bugging him.
If we end up in another near-kiss situation, I don’t know how I’ll stop. I just know that I have to.
I inhale. “Well, I’m surprised.” I switch lanes to avoid the semi that’s barreling up behind me. “You’re making me drive this truck to an undisclosed location on a busy highway.” The sound of Michael Jordan going sixty-five miles an hour is so loud I have to shout to be heard. “I’d feel better if I knew there was pie involved.”
“Don’t worry,” he yells. “This will be better than pie.”
“Better than pie?” I am doubtful, and nervous.
On the way to this mystery location, we shout over MJ’s clattering body about everything: school, what Mr. Chaffee said to him about applying to other colleges, about Ari and Gigi and his parents and my parents, about his dog, Chester, and Marie Curie. I love how we can talk about anything.
Of course, we don’t say a word about O’Dell’s garage, or the beach, or any of the weird moments we’ve been having lately.
I also don’t tell him that I’m going to the JV game with Tex. Eli will understand. He knows my theory. In a few days I’ll have my driver’s license and things will change. We’ll see a lot less of each other. He’ll go to the parties without me. I’ll probably kiss Tex and hope for a positive result.
I glance over at him. Maybe I should stop thinking about the hypothesis and enjoy this time with my best friend.
I’ve been driving forever through some lovely rush hour traffic, when Eli nudges my shoulder.
“It’s the next exit.”
“It’s about time,” I say, though I’ve done an excellent job driving us here, if I do say so. “Ocala?” I read what the exit says. “What’s in Ocala?”
“You’ll see,” he says. “Not too much longer. Just keep driving, and go the speed limit.”
I do what he says, and keep MJ up to speed. At the bottom of the off-ramp there’s a big intersection and a billboard that says Silver Springs, with an arrow pointing right.
“There,” he says. Turn there.”
A rush of memory plows through me. All of a sudden I’m almost giddy. “Are we going where I think we’re going?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. Where do you think we’re going?”
I giggle like the twelve-year-old I was the last time I came here. “I think we’re going on a glass-bottom boat ride.”
His lips are pressed together when I glance his way. “That would be a good guess.”
“No way.” I follow the billboards. “How late are they open?”
“Till six,” he says. “I checked. We’re good.”
I pull into the lot and park MJ close to the entrance. It’s a Wednesday in late February. There’s almost no one here. “We needed to come all the way here for my final exam?” I ask. But I’m not annoyed. I’m thrilled.
He opens his door. “I just thought we could get out of town, too. Do something different. You do remember coming here?”
“Of course I do.” I can’t stop smiling. “That was a long time ago.”
“You up for it again?”
I hand him the keys. “I just drove an hour on like three separate highways to get here. We’re going on the boat, no matter what.”
I set him up with his crutches and grab my wallet, but when we get inside, he won’t let me pay the entrance fee.
Not this again. “Eli, I can pay.”
He balances on one foot to dig for his wallet in his pocket. “Yeah, I know. So can I. It’s not a lot of money.”
No. This can’t be a date. I clear my throat. “I’ll pay you back.”
He turns and slays me with his glare. “Nora, you don’t have to pay me back, and don’t make this about women’s rights or whatever, okay? Just let me do this, because it makes me happy.”
“Eli…”
He lowers his head so his mouth is next to my ear. “Just. Let. Me. Pay.”
I step back, every nerve in my body on fire, and Eli pays the man in the ticket booth. I’m watching the back of his wavy dark hair. I notice the way the muscles of his neck move when he does.
Is this a date? I’m not sure, but there are butterflies working overtime in my stomach, because definitely this is something.
“Here we go,” he says, plowing through the gates on his crutches. “Let’s do this.”
I follow, amazed at how the park looks exactly as I remember it. The colors are maybe a little less vivid because it’s winter, but they’re still here, shiny bright-green leaves, and hibiscus blooming in pinks and oranges. Beautiful.
The boat launch looks the same, too, as do the boats. Green and white roofs. Windows all around the outside.
A man steps out onto the dock to greet us. “Afternoon, kids,” he says when he takes our tickets. “I’m Captain Isaacs. Looks like you’ll have the honor of being my last passengers today. Go ahead and have a seat, we’ve got plenty to choose from.”
I’m speechless as I step on board. Eli expertly maneuvers on his crutches. It’s just the two of us, and it feels like we’ve traveled back in time.
We sit toward the middle on the benches that surround the thick pane of glass on the bottom. There’s a short wall to lean against and look over, which we do. Already, there are fish and plants beneath us in the shimmering water.
“Have you ridden with us before?” the captain asks.
“Six years ago,” Eli answers.
“Excellent,” he says. “You two related?”
“No!” Eli says. “No.”
I smile at our captain. “We’ve been friends forever.”
“Old friends are the best kind,” Captain Isaacs says, as he steers the boat away from the dock.
We move slowly through the water, down the river, over rocks and a ton of fish. The sun going down makes sparkling patterns under the water, like glitter has been randomly sprinkled by some mermaid fairy. The captain narrates our trip, pointing out birds and all the different types of marine life.
“I need to bring Ari here,” Eli says. “He’d love this.”
“He’s never been?”
“No. I’ve only been the one time. I never think about this place, you know?”
I think about it all the time, about our trip here. “Yeah.” I don’t want to, but I do.
The ride is amazing, but the best part comes when the boat moves over the mouth of one of the springs and the water turn from brownish to clear, crystal blue.
It takes my breath away.
The time we came, before, we were with Gigi, back when his parents were fighting a lot. I’m not sure what was going on, but I was terrified they’d get divorced. I hated the thought of Eli and Ari having to go through what I went through. I asked Gigi if we could do something fun with Eli, and she thought of this place. She was always good at coming up with the perfect solution—or she used to be.
That day the boat was crowded, and Eli and I were sitting at least this close, both of us staring down into the water, like we’re doing now. I remember thinking the water was the exact same color of his eyes, so blue. Still is. Back then, I watched him and worried. He was so quiet, so focused on the bottom of that boat, and I got scared that he might end up disappearing into himself, like I had after the divorce. Dad was gone, and Mom was sad, and I was lost and so alone. He was the one who pulled me out again, starting on that first day, on the porch, with the blueberry pie.
I couldn’t lose him, so I leaned forward on the boat, reached out my hand, inch by inch, desperate to hold him there, to keep him with me. I finally touched his back, and he didn’t move. I felt his heart beating. Or maybe that was my own pulse, pumping so hard. He turned around and his eyes met mine. And I fell in love with him.
I’d forgotten that part of the story. That was where it started—my monumental crush that ended in disaster.
Fast forward to now, to Captain Isaacs going on about the amount of water produced by that spring, I’m tempted to reach out again and touch Eli. To somehow keep him here, even though he’s wrong for me. Even though we’re wrong for each other.
Instead, he’s the one who reaches over, to where I’m holding the rail, and lays his hand on top of mine. Our eyes meet again and his shine bluer than the water, his dimple goes deeper than this spring.
I still love him.
It doesn’t last long, his hand on mine. Maybe three seconds before he removes it and we go back to watching the water and listening to the tour. Captain Isaacs points out a school of catfish beneath us and tells us they’re an invasive species. They’re not supposed to be here.
I sit upright. Those innocent science-y words catapult me back to reality.
I’m not supposed to be here, either. I have an Eli problem, but the driver’s license is supposed to take care of that.
My shoulders sag a little at the thought of losing him. His hand on mine felt so good. Not first kiss good, but still, good.
When we get back to the docks, Captain Isaacs shakes our hands and wishes us good luck, finishing with a wink. I wonder if thinks we’re a couple, or going to be one. Couples who aren’t chemically compatible need luck. Lots of it.
Is it possible, though? Could two people with enough love for each other make it, even without the explosive reaction?
No. Nope. That’s dangerous thinking, and I can’t go there. Eli is my friend, and tomorrow I have a date with Caleb, and then I’ll get my license and this will be over.
Enjoy this, I tell myself, while it lasts. We wander around, find the ice cream stand, and we each have vanilla. We got strawberries on it last time, but today it’s colored sprinkles and it’s all so delicious. We walk through the rest of the park. The animals and rides are all gone, but I can only think of his hand on mine. If he wants to hold it again, he can’t because of the crutches.
That’s probably a good thing because I’m not sure I could say no if he did. The sun is setting and the park is nearly empty. It’s closing time. We make our way slowly to the parking lot, him because of his broken knee, me because I don’t want this to end. He digs in his pocket and holds out his keys.
“Do I have to drive home?” I hear the whine in my voice. It is not attractive.
He doesn’t seem to mind. “Ever heard of practice makes perfect?” He unlocks the passenger door. “The test is in two days.”
I scrunch up my nose. “Don’t you think I’m ready?”
He nods once. “You did a decent job.”
“Decent?” I gasp, trying to hide my grin. “There wasn’t a single broken bone.”
He screws up his mouth, hops on his good leg, opens the door, and sweeps his arm across to signal I should get in. “Go ahead, hurry up, before I change my mind.”
I stop in front of him, closer than I should be. I tilt my head. He squints in the setting sun. My heart beats fast. I try not to look at his mouth, tempting, like pie, pulling me in. “Thank you for this. I’m glad we came.”
“Anytime.”
His smile is sweet, and feels like more than a smile. It feels like an invitation. One I’ve never been more tempted to accept.