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“You will?” I ask, unconvinced.
“Yeah.” He stands up taller, puffing his chest out. “As long as I don’t have to see it, or hear it, or think too much about it... yeah. I’ll get over it. Eventually. Maybe. What I want doesn’t matter. What makes you happy does, and... if that’s him, little sister, then... that’s him. I mean...” He bobs his chin in Drew’s direction. “Look at him. It’s like the gods chiseled him out of marble.”
Drew frowns.
“And those arms?” Seth grins at me. “I bet it’s like being cuddled by a bear.”
“Seth...”
“Not like a real bear, but one from those toilet paper commercials.”
“Stop.”
I smile at their familiar banter, but the warm feeling fades quickly. I look at Drew, my feet still locked in place on the dock. After the way things went before, does he even want me back at all?
“What?” Seth asks, turning his hands up at me. “Did I miss something? Why aren’t you jumping up and down?”
I don’t answer.
“I didn’t expect a choreographed dance number or anything, but I at least thought there’d be some kind of positive reaction here.”
Drew hops down onto the dock. “Can we have a minute?” he asks Seth.
Seth regards the two of us for a moment before stepping back. “Sure,” he says, giving a shrug. “You got beers in the chest?”
“Yeah, go nuts, man.”
Seth climbs on board and disappears into the helm.
Drew takes a step closer. He studies me silently, his eyes traveling into each corner of my face before focusing on something just beneath my chin. He reaches out, softly hooks the golden chain around my neck, and draws it out, revealing the orange topaz pendant hidden beneath the neckline of my sweater. He holds it in his fingers, the edges of his lips curling as he looks me in the eye.
“Jenna gave it to me,” I say.
He nods as if this is new information. “She has good taste,” he says. “It really matches your eyes.”
I bite my cheek as he lets go of it. “I don’t know how I feel about it.”
His brow rises. “No?”
“It’s a little flashy,” I say, feigning a wince. “Not really my style.”
“You think so?” He cants his head with doubt. “I think it really suits you, actually...”
“No idea where I’d even wear it, you know?” I shrug. “I think I might just sell it.”
“Sell it?” he repeats in surprise.
“Or trade it. Maybe for an easel.”
He chokes. “An easel?”
“Yeah,” I say. “An easel.”
“Well, that can’t be a fair trade.”
“Eh, how much could a plastic gemstone and a little fool’s gold be worth?”
“Fool’s—” He sputters in offense. “That is not fool’s gold. Or plastic. I mean, it’s clearly not.”
