“I have to call my parents soon,” I say, as the sun goes down. There’s only one slender, high window in the basement, covered with a light gauzy curtain that grows more shadowy by the minute.
“Why?”
“To come pick me up.” I glance down at his bottle of Coke-plus. Do I have to say it? I don’t want to have to say it.
“No,” Matt says. “Won’t you just stay over again?”
“I can’t. It’s a school night.”
“So?”
“So … my parents will say no.” No need to ask. Some things are written in stone.
Matt blinks. “Oh, right. Shit. I was thinking you’d want to stay.”
What I want has nothing to do with it. If it was up to me, I’d stay forever, but a wish is but a shadow of a dream.
“My house has way more rules than your house apparently.”
Matt doesn’t make excuses or argue that he’s still okay to drive. Just says “shit” again. Some rules are hard and fast and I’m grateful we’re on the same page about that. I don’t know how well I could have handled it if he even offered.
“Well, do you want to walk to Rallyburger for dinner? I don’t feel like cooking.”
“They’re going to want me home for dinner.” God, I feel like such a nerd. Obviously Matt has this free rein that I don’t have.
I text Dad and get a thumbs-up back. Matt and I walk to Rallyburger together, because he still needs to eat and having Dad pick me up there feels one step safer, somehow.
It might have been a partial truth, what I told Matt about having to be home for dinner. Maybe that would have been okay. They hadn’t yet started bugging me about getting home. And I’m hungry. But I shut it down nonetheless.
Maybe it was too much, the idea of sitting across a diner table from Matt, for the whole world to see.