“You’re getting on board with the chalk.” If I sound smug it’s because I am.
He shrugs as if it’s no big deal. We both know that’s not true. It means maybe that he’s settling in, maybe even enjoying it here.
“What’s that?” I ask, walking across my yard. I stop short of the boundary. It’s weird acting as if everyone is infectious.
He stands away from whatever is poking out of the ground. It’s a ball of twinkle lights on a stick. There are more of them lying on the ground. As he spots me staring, his lips curve into the cutest smile ever.
My stomach flutters. Welcome back, butterflies.
“You’re coming to the street party?” I ask, trying to ignore the light-headed feeling I get when he looks at me. I really hope I didn’t sound too excited.
“I guess we are. Mom has ingredients everywhere ready to make…I don’t know what she’s making, but I’m sure we won’t be able to eat it all.”
“Mine is the same. She’s also making you guys something.”
He chuckles and walks over, leaving his lights behind. Kind of the way I have. We’re drawn together. The lights can wait.
“Everyone on this street is a feeder.”
“Correct,” I confirm. “But they’re all good cooks so be prepared for the most awesome food coma of your life. Seriously, if Mrs. Langford offers you brownies, take them. I could live off them alone. And the sugar cookies from—”
“Quinn,” he says, cutting me off and lifting his dark eyebrow. “Did you have coffee?”
I shake my head. “No.”
It’s not caffeine that makes me hyper. It’s him.
Twiddling my fingers behind my back, I smile. I hate people who can be so casual around their crush. I’ve never felt nervous around a guy before. Not like this anyway.
“I’m decorating,” I say.
That could have gone better. I could have talked about bands, TV shows, school, literally anything else. But no, I state the damn obvious.
I smile wider and he smirks as if he can read my mind. “I can see that,” he says.
I did so well in the tree, what is happening now? My mind is blank. Nothing but tumbleweed here.
“You okay, Ace?”
The humor in his voice makes me wish I were holding something I could throw it at him.
“I’m fine. Did you get the ink off your window?”
“Yeah. Don’t want anyone else calling me.”
He wants me to call him? I can only be cool on text.
“You should get back to your lights, I’ll see you tonight,” he says.
I nod but I’m disappointed to cut this short.
He chuckles as he walks away.
Okay, you’re fine. I go back to my lights and force myself to focus. I will not look at him again until tonight. I’m too obvious and he’s loving it. He was the one to give me his number, though.
Tonight, I get to spend hours with him and his mom. I want my parents to get along with them, too.
Mission one: make the whole street a happy family.
Mission two: get the lights up.
Mission three: act cool around Archer.
Not in order.
I look up as I’m about to turn and my mouth parts.
Written on his chalkboard is one word: Ace.
Well, I’m not going to be able to focus on other things I need to do now, am I?
The rest of the day drags, obviously. We get set up, prep the food, and then I swim in our pool. I read my old ratty copy of Twilight because I need the solidarity Bella offers with her instant Edward obsession.
By 5:58, I’m losing my mind and clock watching.
Mom and Dad are highly amused, teasing me about Archer, but mostly they’re happy that I “have my spark back.”
Why the hell does he call me Ace?
“I think we can go out now, Quinn,” Dad says, waggling his eyebrows. “I can’t wait to spend time with our new neighbors.”
My eyes widen. “Do not say anything!”
Laughing, he pretends to zip his mouth and heads out the front door.
He better mean that.
I help Mom take food out and flick the twinkle lights on as we go.
Everyone is outside. Lights flicker up and down the street and the Ebson brothers strum the first chord on the makeshift stage they’ve set up. Music drifts through the street. The evening is warm, and the scent of barbecuing food fills the air. I take a breath and smile.
Mom walks up to the edge of our property to speak to Juliet. Archer is standing with a drink, red Solo cup to his mouth, eyes pinned on me.
My steps almost falter but I manage to make myself walk to the edge of our grass. I’m far enough away from Mom and Juliet that they won’t be eavesdropping. Archer meets me, stopping about ten feet away. Beside us is our tree.
He has this gravitational pull and it takes real effort to not walk closer.
“People have gone all out,” he says.
“Awesome, isn’t it. This is what it’s like all the time. Best street in the world.”
His smile is sarcastic as if he’s trying to disagree.
Neighbors stop by like we have been given shifts, everyone saying hello while keeping a safe distance back. Food is dropped in little brown parcels, some with a small hand sanitizer taped to the side.
We watch the Ebsons play. Their sign has two drawings of guitars and reads: Rock off, COVID. I’ve read a couple others that I can see from here. Apocalyptic party 2020. United We Stand. You’re all my heroes.
Archer’s is my favorite. Ace. I’m desperate to know.
The sun is setting, making the twinkle lights grow brighter. I’m sitting on a picnic blanket on the ground. Archer is doing the same from his yard.
“See how awesome it is here,” I say, soaking in the atmosphere. “And you get to see me every day.”
He pretends to look horrified as he takes a bite of a Hershey bar that Mr. Cotton dropped off like a peace offering. I guess he’s decided they’re okay now. I’m sure he’ll
