Tell Me You'll Miss Me | ✓

18. marilyn monroe

I glared at the oak tree as I passed it on my way home after class. I felt cursed, like the world was playing one big practical joke on me and everyone else was in on it. Summer and David were busy getting their happily ever after on, meanwhile I was drifting further and further from the idea that Nora might actually be the one for me. 

So far, the only thing we had going for us was that we both liked girls. And like, don't get me wrong – that's a solidly good start – but what else was there? We'd ticked the bare minimum checkbox.

I wanted to talk to Dad about this whole catastrophe again. He was clueless, but he was great at accidentally dropping some wisdom on me when I least expected it. Plus, I'd never have told him to his face, but he was rarely wrong about this kind of junk.

Unfortunately, I knew he'd be out late, and I wouldn't be able to get all of my issues across to him via text. Especially not now he'd started taking notes from Summer: he'd been adding emojis to everything. He was near-incomprehensible.

I wasn't sure how else I could work out all my drama, so my plan was to nap it out. Unconscious Jess didn't have any of this shit to deal with.

Conscious Jess had made it all the way to the door before disaster struck. I was crouched on the porch with my backpack on the ground, rummaging around for my keys, when I heard Nora's voice yell over to me.

"Hey neighbor!" she called, way too chirpy.

I made sure I had a smile on my face instead of a grimace when I looked up, squinting in the sun slightly to see her outline. "Hey," I replied, lacklustre. "Can you believe the weather we're having?" I tried, making an effort to play ball.

She laughed and came over, pointing above my house, back in the direction of the town. "Looks like we've got some clouds rolling in..."

I finally found my keys and jangled them triumphantly, only... how was I supposed to escape this conversation now?

I still thought Nora was super pretty, and she still kind of made my heart feel funny, but there was such a disconnect between the Nora I'd been imagining dating and the Nora that was real and tangible and standing right in front of me. She grinned, her whole face lighting up, and I almost groaned out loud. This was such an unbearably weird situation.

"Is your dad in? Mom wants to request more of those cupcakes," she chuckled.

"I'll, uh, pass the message on, for sure," I nodded.

"Personally, I'm thinking we should ask for some of that banana bread you mentioned the other night," Nora shrugged, "but Mom's more of a cupcake kinda gal."

I smiled politely, but I was completely, horribly out of my depth and drowning quickly in the silence that followed.

Nora seemed to be coping better, and spoke up again after a few painful beats. "So, listen. I know I was kind of, um. Abrupt, maybe? The-- other night," she repeated. "After the date," she clarified.

I clutched my keys. I didn't want this to happen. I wanted to be locked up inside, safe and sound and away from the nightmare conversation my dream girl was forcing me to have.

I kind of shrugged one shoulder up, shaking my head a little. No words were rushing to come out, so I just winced and hoped she'd continue alone, or... not, and leave me in peace. 

"But like... we really should do it again," she offered, hastily adding, "you know, if you want to. Totally no pressure. Just... something tells me we should give it another shot?" She waited a second, staring at my face, which was almost definitely doing something weird. "Again, only if you wanna. Your choice. I want those cupcakes either way though," she teased, and my tension cracked at that. 

I stuttered out an awkward laugh, caught entirely off guard. I couldn't even tell how I felt. Mostly, I think I was relieved. This conversation could've gone way, way worse, and Nora had definitely done her best to make asking me out – asking me out! something in my brain screeched – as casual as possible, which I appreciated. I knew I should've been buzzed and beyond excited, the screeching voice told me that much, but the feeling just wasn't there. 

"And... are we inviting Summer and David?" I asked, laughing because I hoped it was a given that no, we were not. 

"The only thing worse than hearing about David's mom's dentist-florist switcheroo again would be hearing Summer talk about how she seriously thinks her grandma channelled Marilyn Monroe in the winter of '55, again," Nora scoffed. 

I laughed with her, but it was just out of courtesy because honestly? That was one of my favorite stories of Summer's. Mostly because I'd looked it up online once, and Marilyn Monroe had still been alive in the winter of 1955.