Hard Facts by Penny Clarke

34

Summer

Gray doesn’t give me a fact. No, this time, he gives me a direction.

The drive-in. 9:30 pm. Tonight.

I think about throwing the note, and the flowers, in the trash. But Natalie’s words, her calling me a runner, are so still so fresh and clear in my thoughts, that when I pull up my car next to Gray’s on that deserted field, he checks his watch and says, “You’re fifteen minutes early.”

Shrugging, I walk around the hood of my car. He sits on his, the comforter from his bed splayed out under him. Another thick blanket rests on his lap. Hesitantly, he motions for me to join him. After a hesitation on my part, I do. But only because my legs are already frigid through my tights and cashmere sweater dress.

Once I’m properly seated and my legs are toasty, I finally look at him. Directly. And I’m devastated by the sight. Of those wayward strands of brown hair, tucked under a knitted cap. Those arms, looking stronger than ever, probably because I remember all the times he’d pulled me into them. A green coat shields whatever shirt he’s wearing, so I bring my gaze back up.

To honey-brown eyes. Taking me in, the same I’d done to him. Noting any changes, any differences, any sign of what I’m feeling. Which is that it’s been weeks since I’ve seen him. Felt his intent stare fall over me. There are dark circles under his eyes and a grim set to his mouth, like he hasn’t smiled in all that time we’ve been apart. And I sense a tugging motion in my chest, like when Liz plucks at one of her instruments.

Then, I notice, “Did you get new glasses?”

“Um, yeah.” Gray adjusts the new pair. Still black-rimmed, but just a bit more rectangular. A little more suited to his face. “Morris fell on the old ones. To be fair, I pushed him.”

“How did—” Then I shake my head. How easy it is, to just fall right back into conversation with him. To act like he never betrayed my trust, like I hadn’t spent the past few weeks crying my eyes out over him. “Forget it. Why am I here, Rowe? What do you want to say to me that had to be said in person?”

“Well, to start,” he stares out at the empty field, muddy with snow. “I want to say that I’m sorry. That I never wanted to hurt you. I made a colossal mistake. I’m a fucking idiot.”

Moisture gathers behind my eyes. Fuck. I’m about to turn into a blubbering mess again, and he’s only just started talking. I cross my arms over my coat, shaking my head, and I blurt out, “I tried to sleep with Hunt.”

Gray stiffens. Goes quiet. But then, he releases a deep breath, turns his head. Looks me right in the eye when he says, “I don’t care.”

“Sure about that?” Bitterness tinges my voice. “Want to report to Nolan so he’ll give you a personal rec—”

“I turned down the internship.”

“What?” I drop my arms, slamming my hands on the blanket under us. The dull thump of the hood only serves to remind me. “But your plans—If you have to live in your car—Why would you do something so stupid?”

“I told you,” he emphasizes, that wrinkle forming between his brow. And oh, how I want to smooth over it with my thumb, like I used to. But I keep my hands right where they are while he speaks. “I have the rest of senior year to figure something out. There will always be another company, another internship. Another way to achieve my goals. But…”

He faces me completely, turning his whole body. Leaning forward with one hand on the hood, fingers close to mine. “There’s only one you, Summer. And if I take that internship, I’ll never have you.”

Swallowing past a block in my throat, I stare down at his hand. “And you… You want me?”

“More than anything.”

I feel that honey-brown stare watching me, and I’m not ready—I can’t look back at it yet. So I look over my shoulder. See our reflections in the windshield—In one solid piece. Completely fixed. So I whisper, “I’m sorry for what I did to your car.”

“You did nothing that was irreparable. See? It’s fixed. All of it. Runs like new.”

“Even the seatbelts?” I tame down that smile that wants to respond to his.

“I said I’d pay for it,” I say. “And I will. The money’s there, in your tutoring account.” I’d checked. Every morning, I’d opened the cash app we’d used, only to find it still sitting there. Day after day, untouched.

Gray reaches behind him. Pulls his backpack into his lap.

I frown when he starts pulling out a stack of notebooks from it. “Did you bring homework to apologize to me?”

“No,” he snorts. Sorting through the stack, he selects one and opens it. Hands it to me, so I can read over the penmanship. A list. Of dollar amounts and what they’d been spent on. Bills. Mechanic fees. Charges for black-eyed susans. Asters. Marigolds. Entries for takeout, dining hall meals, drinks from the bar. “I kept receipts. Of everything I ever bought with the money you paid me.”

He slides a smaller piece of paper on top of the notebook. And he taps the number on the check. “This is the total sum. For those things, and all the rest of it. I’m giving it back.”

“But…” My hand trembles when I pick it up, looking at that number. I’m wearing gloves, though, so it’s not from the cold. “I have more than enough money. You did your job. You earned this. You need this.”

I thrust the check at him. Gently, he sets my hand back down. “I’ve had a recent remittance from Morris. Enough to pay for the car. To return everything you ever gave me. Take the money. Use it for your philanthropy. Donate it. Whatever you want, it’s yours. I don’t want any of it.”

He waits for me to fold the check and tuck it in my pocket before his mouth curves up in a smile. Then, a curious look passes over him. “What do you mean, you tried to sleep with Hunt?”

With a groan, I cover my face in one hand. “It was so awkward. I wouldn’t even let him kiss me. I kneed him in the balls.”

Gray’s laugh is possibly the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard. “Can’t say I’m mad about that.”

“It—He just…” I move my fingers. Grazing the tips of his. “He wasn’t you.”

Cold seeps into my hand when he moves his away. But only so he can cup my face, and warmth instantly floods back to me. “Summer, I want—if we do this—if you want it, we have to do it right. No quid pro quo. No terms. Just you and me, deciding we want to be together. For real this time. Would you… Would you want that? To be with me? Because I have this… this hypothesis. That we’d be good together.”

Natalie’s voice comes back. Calling me a runner. Telling me I’m not what Gray needs. I think of the way he hurt me. Remember the feeling of my heart, being ripped from my chest and shattered to bits.

He sees my doubtful look, and runs a hand over his head. Forgetting he’s wearing a hat, so it falls right off, and all his hair sticks on end. “I’m sorry. I should have done this sooner. I wanted to. But I needed time.”

“To think,” I flatly state.

“No,” he replies. “To plan.”

And on his last syllable, a whistle pierces the air around us. I turn to it and—there. Far, far over the field. A tail of sparks whizzes up, up, up, into the night sky.

Where it bursts. Into a hundred fiery stars.

My head whips back to Gray. Who grins, ear to ear, at that single firework.

“What, you—” Except there goes another. Followed in quick succession by two more.

I watch, transfixed by their fizzing crackles and pops. Glowing embers, in a variety of colors and shapes. Swimming swarms, shooting high in spins and strobes.

Movement jostles my side. Gray slides closer. Tucks back a curl from my ear and tells me over the cacophony, “Morris got me into the stadium’s pyrotechnics to borrow some supplies. Spencer and Levi helped, too. They’ll help clean it all, too.”

One fractures, radiating outwards in streams. Gray points it out. “It’s a chrysanthemum. And that effect…” I follow his finger to the next one. “That’s a pink dahlia. A peony should come up soon, too. But I used a lot of chrysanthemums. They’re my—”

“Favorite,” I finish for him, awing over a willowing waterfall. “Gray… How much time did you spend on this?”

“Almost every spare moment I had. Even skipped a couple of finals to set it up.”

“But—”

“They’re just grades, Summer. Just numbers. Ones that don’t mean a thing. Not like these.”

He holds up the pile of notebooks, and I turn away from the lit up display in the sky to watch him flip to the back of one. Already, I recognize what’s written in them. Tables and datasets. Statistics. All his observations. On people. His friends.

But he shows me one, simply marked SP, and says, “This one… it’s for how many times I ever thought about kissing you. I started it after that first day, in the library.” He flips to the next page. Filled entirely with more notations. Same as the next, and the next.

That is… a lot of thoughts about kissing.

“Here—” Gray picks up another notebook. “How many times you called me Gray. Or Grayson. Rowe. You call me Grayson James when you’re being particularly affectionate.”

“Grayson James…” And my voice wobbles as he takes a pen from his bag, and adds one more note.

He shows me all his notebooks. Because there’s so many. All about me. Every detail he’d ever noticed. The times I’d commented on his shirts. What kind of shoes I was wearing. Which floral patterns were on my clothes. Even—and oh wow, the amount of those tallies makes me blush—how many times he’d made me climax during sex.

When another pop ruptures through the air, I’m torn between watching the fireworks or looking through all those numbers. So I look at him. Into those honey-brown eyes.

“These notebooks… They’re proof, Summer,” Gray says, tapping on one. “It’s fact. I’m always thinking about you. Not because we made some deal, or I can get anything from you. But because you’re just simply… on my mind. In my heart. And I should have told you that, the last time I brought you here.”

A considerably louder charge goes off in the air, and we jump, we’d been so lost in each other’s eyes. Gray laughs, directing my attention back to the fireworks. “I had to coach Morris for once, to set it all off. So if this next part fails, I blame him.”

I’m about to ask what, when the next fireworks that fire into the air begin to take shape. Small spheres, gathering together to form—

I cry out with laughter, dropping the notebook I’m holding, since my hands fly to my mouth in wonderment.

Because that shape is a bee.

It falls in the air, in a spectacle of gold and violet, and I’m still laughing, because it even sounded like a bee, all rushed, frantic buzzing.

I forget the doubts in my mind, the ones whispering that he hurt me. That he broke my heart. Made it feel like it stop beating. Because once, once, a bee did that same thing.

But I never stopped loving them.

I never stopped loving him.

Gray’s arm slips around my waist, pulling me closer. His fingers caress the curve of my hip, and we marvel as more and more bees take flight.

Fireworks multiply. One goes down and several take its place. Amplifying in thunderous blasts. Heightening tension. Fragmenting flares soar like rockets, shattering the sky. I feel them. Inside me. An ever increasing tremble through my entire being. Building up anticipation for the grand finale.

Over the roar and the lights and the lingering scent of gunpowder in the air, Gray presses his head to mine and he whispers the sweetest fact of all.

“Did you know, Summer, that I’m completely in love with you, too?”

I turn my head to Gray’s, to gaze deep into those honey-brown eyes behind their glasses, and I can’t look away. Not from Grayson Rowe. Not when, through this sensational work of light and sound, he gives me everything I could ever want. The beauty of flowers. The brightness of stars. The buzzing of bees. The reactivity of chemistry. The boom of volcanoes.

Not when he stares back like that. Offering me all the love he has. For me.

“Kiss me, Grayson James.”

Slow at first, his mouth curves into the most beautiful, most honest, most loving smile. And as he pulls me into his arms, pressing his lips to mine, I swear I almost feel our hearts both swell in that grand finale. Beating as one. Until they burst. In an explosion of all the love we have to give.