I find myself shaking my head. Other bits are shaking too, like my legs, my hands—all of me. I feel like I’m trembling straight down my center.
“Gabriel? Are you okay?”
I wish I could say something. I wish…I wish my tongue didn’t feel like a damn brick in my mouth. I wish I could just spit out the apology I’ve had on the tip of my tongue for two weeks. I wish. Yeah, I wish.
“Don’t make me call you Gabs,” Pearl laughs. “Come on. You’re okay. Just say it. Tell me why I’m here. Because you feel bad about what happened with my parents? Well, don’t. We talked it out. It was a good thing, and we had a good conversation. My parents called me the next day, and we talked for hours. I don’t think we’ve been that open with each other in a long time. It felt good, and I have you to thank for that. Maybe Dean, too, since the whole thing was his idea, technically.”
Her humor gets my juices flowing, or at least, it gets my tongue working again. “Yeah,” I mumble. “I was going to say I’m sorry about that. I am.”
She shrugs. “It’s alright. We got it figured out. And my sister knows too. She was pretty shocked, but in the end, she thought it was funny that I’d go to that kind of lengths to not only get mom and dad off my back but to make sure she had her wedding, and that it was about her, not me. She’s already back from her honeymoon. I guess Chase felt bad about barfing at the wedding because he never drank a drop the whole time. Not that he’s a big drinker normally, but they did go to an all-inclusive resort. Seems like a waste of money to me if you aren’t going to drink the whole cost of the trip. I’m kidding. Seriously. Anyway, she’s back already. Uh, what else can I say?”
“Are you okay?”
Pearl hesitates, but she forces a smile and forges on. This girl is tough. She’s smart, funny, witty, kind, a little crazy (but aren’t we all, and that’s okay), and she can think and talk herself out of just about anything.
“I’ve been doing alright. Surviving. You?”
“Please don’t tell me you already know the answer to that.”
“I kind of do.” Her voice gets all gooey, and her eyes get soft. “You don’t look like you’re doing okay, but maybe you’ve just been working really hard, and I don’t know, maybe this is what creative genius looks like. You must be one since you sold a freaking software for a few billion dollars. Who does that anyway, and why are you not living in the world’s coolest treehouse or on your own island or inside a volcano or something?”
My lips twitch too when I see her grin. She has every right to be mad at me. She has every right to be mopey or to make me suffer for being a dick, but she’s here. Laughing. Smiling. Talking to me. I can tell she’s concerned about me too even though she’s trying to talk her way around that, probably just so that she doesn’t embarrass me.
“I don’t know. I guess I haven’t figured that out yet. I’m not sure you can live inside a volcano. It might be really hot and sulfur-smelling.”
“A treehouse would be fun.”
“Yeah? Like in the jungle somewhere?”
“No, here. People live in all sorts of cool off-grid houses like Earthships and the underground. There’s some pretty neat stuff out there.”
“I haven’t seen any of that.”
“I could show you a few neat ones. I follow like a million house sites on social media.”
“I’d like that.”
“Okay.” Pearl’s lips press together like she’s waiting for me to say something.
I guess that’s my cue. “Maybe, maybe you’d like to do some of that with me? Or just hang out sometime. A few times. A lot of times?”
One eyebrow draws downwards. “Which would be your preference?”
“Uh, whatever you like. I mean, my preference would be a lot, but maybe that’s too fast.”
“We could start small and see how it goes. See if we’re actually ready. I haven’t changed my mind since I know you’re probably going to ask. Or maybe you won’t, but I can tell you want to know. I still want to see where this goes with you. I still feel it, and I still want this, still want you. I’m really, really excited, but scared too. And I missed you. I’m standing here pretending that I didn’t and acting all cool when what I really want to do is give you the biggest hug and smell you, kiss you, and get held by you. Is that too much?”
“No.” I shake my head madly. “No, it’s not too much. That sounds really, really good. I’m sorry I was a dick. I’m sorry I was scared. And I’m sorry I didn’t want to listen. I know you’re not going to use me. I never meant to imply that you would. I was just—those past experiences were hard. Really hard.”