Page 6 of The Last Special Thing

Her plan to bring Weston along turned out to be a good one. It gave the girls a chance to have time to themselves on their walk to get burritos, while Weston and Max strolled a few paces behind them. The guys were deep in conversation about cars, passing a joint Max had brought, their laughter rising between puffs of smoke.

Amelia and Madisson linked arms as they strolled down the sidewalk. Amelia updated Madisson on her sister Georgina, who was supposed to spend only the school year abroad but was extending it to bounce around Europe in the summer.

“I thought she would want to come back and spend the summer with me before I left for college.” Amelia rolled her eyes. “But I guess not.”

“Well, maybe you’ll overlap?” Madisson chirped.

Amelia shrugged and kicked a loose pebble out of her way. It was unlikely. Georgina had never been the stereotypical big sister who gave her guy advice or would listen to her complaints about their parents. With their four-year age gap, Amelia often had the door slammed in her face when she tried to hang out with Georgina and was relentlessly teased for her taste in music.

The group single-filed under the sun-bleached red awning of Valerie's Taco Shop. Max reached the door first and gave it a loud, squeaky push. The familiar sound of sizzling and upbeat Mexican music greeted them. A San Diego perk was that, being only a short distance from the border, all Mexican restaurants were authentic.

At the counter, they each ordered an oversized burrito, and Weston pulled out his card. They never kept track of who paid, or rather, whose parents paid. Weston’s parents were the most well-off, but everyone in the group threw a card down occasionally. Between themselves, Madisson and Amelia had worked out what purchases their parents cared about more. Amelia could spend as much as she wanted on her nails, hair, the gym, smoothies, and anything else considered self-enhancement. Madisson’s parents preferred that their daughter have cultural experiences, so activities like zoo dates and art exhibits were on her.

Madisson grabbed a handful of red and green salsa while Weston pocketed a fistful of napkins. Walking back to the apartment, Madisson poured a generous amount of red salsa on her carne asada and french fry burrito combo. Amelia unwrapped her Pollo Asada burrito and took a couple of bites, enjoying the beach breeze.

“What the fuck am I going to do when you start class a month before me?” Amelia asked. She wasn’t ready for them to be apart.

“Shack up in the dorms with me for a month.” Madisson wiped salsa from her lip.

“Yeah, right, Babe. You’ll never be at the dorms. You’ll be staying with me,” Max chimed in from behind them with a stoned smile. He half-jogged up and put his arm around Madisson’s shoulder possessively. She leaned into his chest but didn’t respond. Amelia knew Madisson had been looking forward to the traditional college experience: sneaking in beers, microwaving quesadillas, and making new friends. None of which included being on a boyfriend’s short leash.

Madisson shifted the conversation to Weston. “When do you leave?”

“Also August,” he said after he’d finished his next bite.

“So fucking dumb,” Amelia scoffed. She was the one itching to leave, and she was the one who would spend another month doing nothing in town. UCLA was the only one out of their colleges that didn’t start until September. She didn’t want her friends to begin their new lives while hers was on pause.

When they returned to the apartment, Max opened the unlocked door. A guy lounged on the couch playing the Nintendo console. Max had really moved in a roommate based on a social media comment about pizza. She wasn’t concerned about Max, but his blatant carelessness irked her. Amelia couldn’t wait for Madisson to be at the dorms. It had to be safer than this.

Max reached his fist out. “Glad you’re up, man.”

The pizza dude from the internet stopped the game and stood to bump Max’s fist. He looked at Weston and Amelia.

“I’m Art.” He leaned forward and extended a hand. “Art Anderson.”

Weston shook it. “Hey, man.”

While Weston circled to take a seat at the opposite end of the couch, Amelia couldn’t help but stare.

Art had a smile that extended to the edges of his face. His hair was dark brown with sun-kissed ends, hanging a few inches past his shoulders. The band shirt he wore was identical to the one crumpled at the bottom of her dresser.

Turquoise blue eyes, outlined in Navy, held her gaze. It reminded her of the ocean, deep and mesmerizing. While she saw eye to eye with most men, including Weston, Art had at least six inches on her. Her breath caught as she was forced to look up at him, wading into those eyes.

“What’s your name?” His voice was gentle.

She swallowed. “Amelia.”

“Amelia,” he repeated back. She didn’t think his smile could grow any wider, but for her, it did.

He reached for her hand and cupped it, his thumb rolling over her knuckles. “It’s nice to meet you.” Shivers sprinted down her spine.

“You guys want to play something?” Max called from the kitchen. He could have been on another planet as far as Amelia was concerned. In fact, Amelia would prefer him there.

Art let go of her hand, and her shoulders relaxed.

“Yeah, let’s play Smash Bros,” Art replied to Max. His entire demeanor shifted from electric back to casual. He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, and Amelia took a seat on the carpet, reclining against the couch.

Her eyes met his again as he distributed the controllers to Max and Weston. He was friendly and good-looking. But so was Ted Bundy.