Page 33 of Picking Daisies on Sundays

to avoid staring at his butt.God, I hated myself for thinking it, but it looked amazing.

“This conversation isn’t over by the way!” he shouted humorously through the door. I laughed. “This guy doesn’t know you.”

“It’s not that big of a deal, Levi,” I shouted back.

“Do you remember Jack Huntington?” he asked through the door.

I processed the name for a moment, trying to remember. Then a switch went off in my head and Jack’s face appeared in my head. “Oh my gosh,the kid that made the comment about my ass?”

He groaned, “Yes, him.”

“He was such an asshole!”

“You didn’t think so at the time. You didn’t want to tell anyone about what he was saying to you because it wasn’t ‘a big deal.’” I could practically see his air quotes through the door.

“Well, he got detention like a week later for something he said to another girl.”

I heard the bathroom door open as I placed my pins back into the box under my bed.

“He got detention Dani because I punched him.”

“Youwhat?” But I kind of choked on the words because he was half dressed in the doorway when I turned around.

He was in the middle of pulling a shirt over his head, where I watched the muscles in his stomach flex.

“I punched him,” he shrugged, perfectly satisfied with his answer as he pulled his shirt on. “He kept saying things like that about you. I told him to stop, then he made another joke about it, so I punched him. We both had detention, his was just longer than mine.”

“You’re insane.” I stared at him with wide eyes, trying to process what he just told me.Hepunched someone?

“I would’ve done it for any of my sisters.”

The comparison to his sisters melted all of my muscles into the ground. I was slack with nostalgic sadness. He didn’t punch a guy for me out of boyfriend-like protectiveness, but because he thought of me as one of his sisters. I hated how gutted I felt.

He continued, “So this does matter, just like that did.”

I swallowed my thoughts and asked, “What would you recommend?”

“The MET.”

“The MET? As in the art museum?”

A small smile perked up on his face. “For inspiration. It’s where I go for writing when I’m stuck. We could go on Sunday if you’d want? I’ll even let you make fun of what I wear.”

I suppressed a laugh, but I couldn’t suppress my smile. “I can’t, I’m supposed to have a meeting with Ethan.”

“Screw Ethan! We don’t need him.”

I laughed. “Maybe I could move the meeting.”

He couldn’t hide his sweet, nervous smile. “Does 4 o’clock work? A few hours before dinner?”

This realization of habitually being invited to everything again, of being desired and wanted as company, caused my face to bloom into the color of bleeding-heart flowers. It was a nostalgia stronger than middle school summers.

Saying yes was as easy as falling into bed.

15

because you look at me with conviction when I don’t even know