Page 37 of Back for Seconds

Not because I gave a shit who won Best Lights. All I could focus on was whether or not June would be there. Would she be in another sweater dress? If she saw me, would she say anything? Was she pissed at me? My fingers itched to text her, but I forced myself to focus on the road, tightening and loosening my grip on the steering wheel. Did I do something wrong? Did I go too far? Was the kiss too much? Realistically, I had a single text to try and figure out what had gone wrong with us. When June fired off seven messages in a row, it was charming as fuck. If I did it, I risked looking like a psycho.

“Man, they’re going nuts under your last video.” Isaac snickered, features cast in a ghostly blue glow from his phone. “I don’t know why you’re hung up on Amber. These girls are going wild.”

“Women,” I corrected him. “And I’m not hung up on Amber.”

“So, you’re pouting and looking all miserable for no reason?”

No, I was looking all miserable for one very specific reason. “Shut up and call Mom and tell her you’re almost home,” I grouched, turning the radio down.

“I’m not a kid anymore, I don’t have to tell Mom—”

“As long as someone is cooking you dinner, you call her to tell her what time you plan on being home.”

It was easy enough to bully my younger brother out of a conversation about my real emotional state, but there was no way I was getting away with that with my two older siblings. And, frankly, the Pagano brothers only got kinder with birth order so there was a chance my reticence would get my ass beat.

I needed to get my shit together before Noche Buena.

By the time Isaac was off the phone, we were pulling up in front of my parents’ house—a two-story old-school shore house right in the middle of downtown Evergreen.

Growing up, this had been a rough part of town—mostly desolate with shabby, shady businesses bookending the block. In the summer, landlords would rent out every spare room to vacationers, drawing in skeezy creeps and asshole kids from across the tristate. I guess even they deserved a beach vacation.

Now, my parents lived two streets over from The Billiards; three blocks away from a seafood restaurant that had won Best New Restaurant in New Jersey; a few streets away from one of the best boardwalks on the Atlantic coast. Crazy.

Our crooked-ass municipal government had even invested in Christmas lights for each block from the bridge to the boardwalk. Every streetlamp was wrapped with a big glittering bow and string lights fashioned into the shape of a wreath.

I followed Isaac up to the front door, helping him carry in the presents he’d confidently settled on. Flannel pajamas for Mom; an Eagles letterman jacket for Dad; an anime body pillow for our brother Louis.

“Hi, baby.” Mom greeted me with a perfumed kiss on the cheek as she held the door open for me. “Are you going to the town hall?”

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” I tried to keep the annoyance out of my voice as I set down Isaac’s stuff. “Did something happen?”

Bernie lifted her eyebrows and hands in a look of faux innocence. “No reason. They’re giving out Best Lights.”

“Ah, sure. Can’t miss that annual bloodbath.”

Isaac laughed before disappearing into the family room, and we said our goodbyes. I headed back out into the chilly night, giving my phone another furtive glance. Last time tonight, I told myself. I swiped open to my text conversation with June and…

Three dots. She was typing?

No way.

I stared at them, letting the blue glow cook my retinas.

She was typing. No one typed this long.

“Yo, Joey Pags.”

I jumped at the sound of my name. An old man in a Phillies cap was lumbering down the opposite side of the street, waving at me. He was with a whole band of his cronies, headed toward the rec center caddy corner to the end of my parent’s block.

Was everyone going to the town hall?

I had no idea who it was, so I just yelled out a jovial: “Hey, man. How are ya?”

I wasn’t going to be the only guy in Evergreen not there. And I wasn’t going to spend the rest of the night staring at the three dots under June’s name.

***

June was here.