Page 52 of The Getaway List
“Tom?” Mariella asks.
“Yeah,” I say thickly.
“I thought that might be why your face got all goopy.”
I swipe the cupcake back from her, blushing reflexively. Blushing even though there’s nothing to blush over anymore.
I type back, Miss you too. I have a delivery shift, but I’ll see you tonight?
Tom types back, Sounds good. Stay safe. See you then.
“You know, goopy recognizes goopy. That face you make is the same way I feel about Luca.”
I smile thinly. There’s a moment when I consider asking Mariella something that I know is crossing a line but feel certain she’d do anyway—I consider asking her to hack into the app to find out for sure who sent what. Just to know for sure whether any of it was Tom or not.
But knowing won’t change the fact of Tom leaving, or that I have feelings for him I don’t think he’ll ever return. Knowing can only make the hurt of all that worse.
“Tom and I are just friends,” I say. I’ve spoken those words more times than I could possibly count, but it feels like the first time I’ve ever said them. I think it might be the first time I ever actually meant them—the first time I closed the door to any possibility of something more.
Mariella’s smile is just as small as mine. “Yeah. I think Luca and I are the same. But last night when he was so nice and got me home and everything—I think I feel better about the idea of us not working out, because it reminded me that I’m lucky to have him as a friend in the first place. I mean, shit. All of us are lucky to have each other.”
I feel myself getting a little choked up all over again, so I clear my throat and say, “At least until Tom harvests our organs.”
Mariella sighs. “At least until then.”
Chapter Eighteen
When I get back to the apartment it’s nearing eight o’clock and Tom is oddly nowhere in sight. I take a quick shower and wander over to the fridge, where I find the note scrawled in large letters on one of Vanessa’s legal pads: Meet me on the roof?
I yank my wet hair back into a braid and shove on my flip-flops with my sweatpants and T-shirt. I haven’t been on the roof before, but I’ve seen the door to the stairs at the end of the hall. Sure enough, it’s one quick flight up before I’m pushing the door open to the balmy night air.
“Finally!” I hear Luca blurt out. “I thought she’d never get here!”
I blink and there, on the expanse of the roof, are Jesse, Mariella, and Luca standing around a giant, fully pitched neon-orange tent, a nest of sleeping bags, and a portable speaker that Jesse is clearly in command of, considering it is currently blasting a track from Taylor Swift’s evermore. I take a surprised step forward and find Tom in front of a little heater, beside which sits a grocery bag full of marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate bars.
Tom spots me and the relief is so palpable in his face that for a moment I forget that his entire roof has been transformed into a teenybopper sleepaway camp. It takes everything in me not to cut past everyone directly to him, just to have him closer in my line of sight.
Well. So much for me being able to take this whole “having feelings for Tom” thing on the chin.
“What on earth is this?” I ask, a disbelieving grin curling on my face.
“We couldn’t let a Getaway List item go unchecked,” says Jesse. “We’re all way too invested in this now.”
“Also I came up with like, eight different ghost stories to try out on you guys,” says Luca proudly. “I’ve rated them from ‘mildly spooky’ to ‘potentially life-scarring,’ depending on how grim we wanna get.”
Mariella shrugs, eyes twinkling, and says, “I’m just here for the snacks.”
I wander over to the middle of the roof where everything is set up, too impressed and overwhelmed to speak. Not a feeling I’m used to, with this mouth.
“Guys,” I manage, looking at all of them in turn.
Jesse puts his hands up. “It was Tom’s idea. He was the one who organized the whole thing.”
“And obtained enough s’mores that I’m worried we created a city-wide shortage,” says Mariella, holding up the bag as if to test the weight.
I smile at Tom and mouth the words “mom friend.” He rolls his eyes but looks unmistakably pleased about it.
“Don’t listen to them. They brought all the supplies,” he says. “All I did was have a roof. I know it’s not camping in the traditional sense, but—”
