She was under the tree.
My dad and Charlie were deep in conversation about something—football, maybe?—but I'd tuned them out the minute I looked out the backwindow. I could see Liz—my next-door neighbor—sitting on a blanket under her favorite cottonwood, reading a book.
Well, technically I didn't know it was her favorite tree anymore.
But it used to be.
When we were in sixth grade and played night tag in her backyard, she yelled at Austin Potter for climbing that tree because it would "destroy her" if he broke it (she was so fucking melodramatic). She said it was her favorite tree because cottonwoods have leaves that shimmer in the sunlight and sound like water when you close your eyes.
She made us close our eyes and listen.
And she was right.
Anyway. It appeared she was wearing a costume like a total weirdo—maybe it was just a dress—and reading under that tree at the moment.
"You guys should go outside and throw a ball or something," I heard my dad say.
Like we were little kids who needed to go play.
Throwing a ball was the man's answer to everything, I swear to God.
Still, it was better than just sitting inside, listening to my sister, Sarah, chomping on her bubble gum while we waited for Charlie's mom to finally show up (she was an hour late).
"Come on, Chuck," I said, ideas sparking in my head as I turned away from the window. "Let's go throw a football."
He gave me a weird look. "Okay."
As soon as we stepped out onto the deck, Charlie said, "So honestly—is your dad an asshole? Like, Uncle Larry's always intimidated me, but today he kind of seems like a dick."
That made me curious what they'd been talking about while I'd been zoning out, but I gave him the truth. "Ninety-five percent of the time."
"I was never sure if it was my dad fucking up the family bonding vibes, or if your dad was at fault."
Our families were weird in that we were close, yet not close at all. Charlie's mom was my mom's sister, and they were tight. They talked onthe phone all the time, and when we were little, we'd get together a couple times a year for vacation. My sister played with his sister, Charlie and I ran around, and it felt like a nice little family thing.
Our dads, however, weren't tight at all. Charlie's parents got divorced earlier this year, but even before that, his dad and mine seemed to have zero in common and didn't really even speak when they were together.
I was pretty sure they secretly hated each other.
"Let's call it a collab." I handed Charlie the football, ran down the deck steps, then sprinted to the other side of the yard. "Hit me, Chuck."
He let loose with a perfect spiral, which pissed me off because it came right to me. I tossed it back, hoping for a poorly thrown pass. My naturally-athletic-but-not-at-all-competitive cousin sent me another dime, but God smiled, because it bounced off my fingertips and went over the fence.
"My bad!" Charlie yelled as he jogged over. "I'll get it."
I held out a hand. "Don't you fucking dare."
"Still with that?" Charlie said, grinning and shaking his head like I was pathetic.
I was pathetic.
"I just enjoy messing with my neighbor, that's all."
"Sure it is."
I ignored him and charged over the fence, easily climbing it and dropping right into the Buxbaums' yard. The tree Liz was parked under was on the other side, bordering the other neighbors' fence, and she was facing my direction.
The football was in the grass right beside her.
I walked over, taking in the way her back was against the tree, her legs stretched in front of her and crossed at the ankles. She was wearing heart-shaped sunglasses, red lipstick, and a dress that looked like an old-timey swimsuit.
A book was in her hands—ten pink fingernails holding Anna and the French Kiss—and a wineglass full of soda with a lemon was sitting besidethe retro CD player on the ground to her right. Is that Kings of Leon I hear?
He wants to see you crawl....
"For someone who walks around with the cocky over confidence of an athlete," Liz said, not looking up from her book, "you really suck at catching."
"Football's not my game, Buxbaum," I said, stopping in front of her to pick up the ball. "And it was a terrible pass, so not my fault."
"It almost hit me in the nose."
"Almost' doesn't count," I said as my eyes got lost in the way the sunmade her red hair blindingly metallic.
She lowered her chin to look at me over her sunglasses. "If I hadn't covered my face in time, I'd probably have a broken nose right now."
"I'd stop the bleeding with the shirt off my back if that happened,Lizzie."
"Yeah, and I'd probably get a bacterial infection from your filthy jersey. Why don't you just take your little toy and go?"
I really was insane, because I fucking loved going back and forth like this with her.
"I feel like you're going to miss me," I said, unable to stop myself from grinning down at her. "Now that we've shared a moment, maybe I should stick around."
"Irritating each other is not sharing a moment, and if you do, I'm going inside."
"Fine," I said dramatically around a sigh. "I'll take my ball and go home."
"See that you do."
I went back to my yard, zapped with the little zing I got whenever I messed with Liz, so I wasn't upset in the least when yet another errant pass went over her fence.
"Are you kidding me?" Liz yelled from the other side.
"Absolutely not," I replied, doing my best not to laugh as I vaulted over the barrier. "Ready to render first aid with my filthy jersey."
Her sunglasses were on top of her head, and her green eyes were narrowed as she watched my approach. I could tell she was trying to gauge whether or not the missed passes were intentional.
Yeah, like I'd ever fucking tell.
"Every time you jump the fence, it looks like it's going to topple over. Would it kill you to go through the gate?"
"Your dad put a lock on it," I said, "so I can't anymore."
"Oh-five, oh-four, two-one," she said, rolling her eyes. "Just put in the number, use the gate like a civilized human, and maybe don't even talk to me when you retrieve your misdirected sports paraphernalia. Zero contact would be cool."
"But how could I tell you how much I like your new hair if I didn't speak?"
Her eyebrows furrowed. "What are you doing?"
"What do you mean?"
"Are you being a dick about my hair? Because I know you're not complimenting me."
"Lizzie," I said, pouring on the tease, even though I fucking loved her new hair. It was shorter and cute as hell, but no way could I give her a genuine compliment.
We didn't do that.
So I said, "Your hair is the stuff of cheerleader fantasy. Of main character daydreams. Your hair runs so that young gingers' hair can walk."
She bit down on the inside of her cheek and—holy shit—looked like she wanted to laugh. "Are you high, Wes Bennett?"
"I'll answer that if you answer this: Were you playing Beyoncé on the piano last night?"
Her green eyes went wide, and her mouth dropped open. "You heard me?"
"The windows were open," I said, shrugging like it was the first time I'd ever heard her, "and I was having a smoke out back. So was it 'Halo'?"
"You smoke?" She was looking at me like I was a puzzle, like she couldn't figure me out.
"No. Was it?"
The crinkle in her forehead grew somehow.
"Yes. So... do or don't you?"
"Like Beyoncé? Fucking love her."
She rolled her eyes. "Why do I even bother trying to have a conversation with you?"
"Because you're fascinated and want to know more."
She snorted.
"Because you find me wildly attractive and need some insight into my soul?"
"Try again."
"Because you want to reconcile the data you've entered into your diary about me with the real-life, actual facts?"
"So you are high."
"Wes." Charlie peered over the fence. "I'm going inside for a sec. I'll be right back."
Liz was staring—wide, unblinking green eyes—at my cousin as if she was seeing Jesus himself.
"Cool," I said, still watching her watch him. I knew I couldn't be rude,even though I wanted to be, so I added, "Hey, Chuck—this is Liz."
No one had an easier face to read than my next-door neighbor. Liz's every thought played out for the world, as if her freckles were transmitting Morse code or something.
And at that moment, she was having a million melodramatic romanticthoughts about my cousin.
Fucking awesome.
"Hey, Liz," Charlie said, wearing a huge-ass grin as he peered at her over the fence. "I'm Charlie. Nice to meet you."
"You too," she said, squinting as she smiled back at him.
Fucking lovely.
"So you're unlucky enough to live next door to Wes—that's gotta be tough," he said, and as I looked at his sarcastic face, I knew he was remembering my Liz issues and messing with me on purpose.
"You have no idea," Liz said, her eyelashes fluttering as she made a cute giggling noise.
"Oh, but I do. I've vacationed with him. Did you know he talks in his sleep?"
"You should shut up, Charlie," I said, but it was like he didn't hear me.
Liz's lips slid all the way up as she smirked at me and said, "I mean, I'm not surprised, because he never stops talking when he's awake."
"Right?" Charlie said, laughing because he had me. "He also still sleeps with his baby pillow, but I suppose that's—"
"Foul," I interrupted, loving the way she was giggling even as I wanted to cram the words back down his throat. "Fucking foul, Chuckles."
"Whoa." Liz's mouth dropped wide open, and her eyes were huge as she gaped at me. "Say that again, Chuckles. Wes Bennett sleeps with his...?"
"It's cute as fuck," Charlie said, ducking as I threw the football towards his head. "The thing is faded and torn, but Wes always has it tucked under—"
"Weren't you going inside, asshole?" I said through gritted teeth.
That made him full-on laugh—along with Liz—as he looked at her and said, "Later, Liz."
She was quiet until Charlie went inside, but the minute the door closed behind him, she looked up at me and said, "So who is Charlie?"