Always and Forever, Lara Jean
Page 44
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“Why not?”
“Just—because. You can tell him I’m with Chris, and that I won’t be at dinner, but don’t mention anything about UNC.”
And then I’m getting dressed and flying around the house like a banshee, throwing things into a tote. Dried wasabi peas, Pocky sticks, bottled water. Chris and I have never gone on a road trip together before; I’ve always wanted to do that with her. And what would it hurt to just look at Chapel Hill, just to see? I won’t be going there, but it’s still fun to think about.
Chris and I are halfway to Chapel Hill before I realize my phone is dying and I forgot to pack my charger. “Do you have a car charger?” I ask her.
She’s singing along to the radio. “Nope.”
“Shoot!” We’ve eaten up most of her phone battery using the GPS, too. I feel a little uneasy about traveling out of state without a full charge on my phone. Plus, I told Kitty not to tell Daddy where I was going. What if something were to happen? “What time are we getting back, do you think?”
“Quit worrying, Granny Lara Jean. We’ll be fine.” She rolls down her window and mine and starts fumbling around for her purse. I get her purse from the floor of the backseat and pull out her cigarettes before she wrecks the car. When we’re at a red light, she lights her cigarette and inhales deeply. “We’ll be like pioneers. It just adds to the adventure. Our forefathers didn’t have cell phones either, you know.”
“Just remember, we’re only going to look. I’m still going to William and Mary.”
“You just remember—options are everything,” Chris says.
That’s what Margot’s always telling me. Those two have more in common than they think.
We spend the rest of the trip surfing radio stations and singing along and talking about whether or not Chris should dye her hair pink in the front. I’m surprised by how fast the time goes. We get to Chapel Hill in just under three hours and thirty minutes, like Chris said we would. We find a parking spot right on Franklin Street, which I guess is their main street. The first thing that strikes me is how similar UNC’s campus is to UVA’s. Lots of maple trees, lots of green, lots of brick buildings.
“It’s so pretty, isn’t it?” I stop to admire a pink flowering dogwood tree. “I’m surprised they have so many dogwood trees, since it’s Virginia’s state flower. What do you suppose is North Carolina’s state flower?”
“No idea. Can we please eat? I’m starving.” Chris has the attention span of a fly, and when she is hungry, everybody better watch out.
I put my arm around her waist. I’m suddenly feeling very tender toward her for taking me on this trip to see what might have been. “Let’s fill that belly up, then. What do you want? Pizza? A hoagie? Chinese food?”
She puts her arm around my shoulder. Her mood is already picking up at the mention of different cuisines. “You pick. Anything but Chinese food. Or pizza. You know what, let’s get sushi.”
A couple of guys pass on the street, and Chris calls out, “Hey!”
They turn around. “What’s up?” one says. He’s black, handsome, tall, with muscular arms in a CAROLINA WRESTLING T-shirt.
“Where’s the best sushi around here?” Chris asks.
“I don’t eat sushi, so I can’t really say.” He looks at his red-haired friend, who is less cute but still cute. “Where do you go?”
“Spicy Nine,” he says, eyeing Chris. “Just go down Franklin that way and you’ll run right into it.” He winks at her, and they go back to walking in the other direction.
“Should we go after them?” she says, her eyes following them as they walk away. “Find out what they’re up to tonight?”
I steer her in the direction they pointed us to. “I thought you were hungry,” I remind her.
“Oh yeah,” she says. “So that’s one point in the UNC column, am I right? Hotter guys?”
“I’m sure William and Mary has good-looking guys too.” Quickly I add, “Not that it matters to me, because I obviously have a boyfriend.” Who still hasn’t called, mind you. My phone is down to 5 percent, so by the time he does, it’ll be too late.
* * *
After we eat sushi, we wander around on Franklin Street, stopping in stores. I consider buying a UNC Tar Heels basketball hat for Peter, but he probably wouldn’t wear it, since he’ll be a Wahoo.
We pass a pole with signs on it, and Chris stops short. She points to a sign for a music hall called Cat’s Cradle. A band called Meow Mixx is playing tonight. “Let’s go!” Chris says.
“Have you ever heard of Meow Mixx before?” I ask. “What kind of music do they play?”
“Who cares. Let’s just go!” She grabs my hand. Laughing, we run down the street together.
There’s a line to get inside, and the band has already started to play; snatches of dancey music float through the open door. A couple of girls are waiting in line in front of us, and Chris throws her arms around me and tells them, “My best friend just got into UNC.”
I feel warm inside hearing Chris call me her best friend—to know that we still matter to each other, even though she has her work friends and I have Peter. It makes me feel sure that when she’s in Costa Rica, or Spain, or wherever she ends up, we’ll still be close.
One of the girls hugs me and says, “Congratulations! You’re going to love it here.” Her hair is in milkmaid braids, and she’s wearing a T-shirt that says HILLARY IS MY PRESIDENT.
Adjusting the lollipop enamel pin in her hair, her friend says, “Put down Ehaus or Craige for your dorm. They’re the most fun.”
I feel sheepish as I say, “Actually, I’m not coming here; we just came to visit. For fun.”
“Oh, where are you going?” she asks me, a slight frown on her freckled face.
“William and Mary,” I tell her.
“It’s not definite though,” Chris butts in.
“It’s pretty definite,” I say.
“I came here over Princeton,” the braided girl tells me. “That’s how much I loved it when I visited. You’ll see. I’m Hollis, by the way.”
We all introduce ourselves and the girls tell me about the English department, and going to basketball games at the Dean Dome, and the places on Franklin Street that don’t card. Chris, who zoned out during the English department part of the conversation, is suddenly all ears. Before we go inside, Hollis gives me her number. “Just in case you come here,” she says.
“Just—because. You can tell him I’m with Chris, and that I won’t be at dinner, but don’t mention anything about UNC.”
And then I’m getting dressed and flying around the house like a banshee, throwing things into a tote. Dried wasabi peas, Pocky sticks, bottled water. Chris and I have never gone on a road trip together before; I’ve always wanted to do that with her. And what would it hurt to just look at Chapel Hill, just to see? I won’t be going there, but it’s still fun to think about.
Chris and I are halfway to Chapel Hill before I realize my phone is dying and I forgot to pack my charger. “Do you have a car charger?” I ask her.
She’s singing along to the radio. “Nope.”
“Shoot!” We’ve eaten up most of her phone battery using the GPS, too. I feel a little uneasy about traveling out of state without a full charge on my phone. Plus, I told Kitty not to tell Daddy where I was going. What if something were to happen? “What time are we getting back, do you think?”
“Quit worrying, Granny Lara Jean. We’ll be fine.” She rolls down her window and mine and starts fumbling around for her purse. I get her purse from the floor of the backseat and pull out her cigarettes before she wrecks the car. When we’re at a red light, she lights her cigarette and inhales deeply. “We’ll be like pioneers. It just adds to the adventure. Our forefathers didn’t have cell phones either, you know.”
“Just remember, we’re only going to look. I’m still going to William and Mary.”
“You just remember—options are everything,” Chris says.
That’s what Margot’s always telling me. Those two have more in common than they think.
We spend the rest of the trip surfing radio stations and singing along and talking about whether or not Chris should dye her hair pink in the front. I’m surprised by how fast the time goes. We get to Chapel Hill in just under three hours and thirty minutes, like Chris said we would. We find a parking spot right on Franklin Street, which I guess is their main street. The first thing that strikes me is how similar UNC’s campus is to UVA’s. Lots of maple trees, lots of green, lots of brick buildings.
“It’s so pretty, isn’t it?” I stop to admire a pink flowering dogwood tree. “I’m surprised they have so many dogwood trees, since it’s Virginia’s state flower. What do you suppose is North Carolina’s state flower?”
“No idea. Can we please eat? I’m starving.” Chris has the attention span of a fly, and when she is hungry, everybody better watch out.
I put my arm around her waist. I’m suddenly feeling very tender toward her for taking me on this trip to see what might have been. “Let’s fill that belly up, then. What do you want? Pizza? A hoagie? Chinese food?”
She puts her arm around my shoulder. Her mood is already picking up at the mention of different cuisines. “You pick. Anything but Chinese food. Or pizza. You know what, let’s get sushi.”
A couple of guys pass on the street, and Chris calls out, “Hey!”
They turn around. “What’s up?” one says. He’s black, handsome, tall, with muscular arms in a CAROLINA WRESTLING T-shirt.
“Where’s the best sushi around here?” Chris asks.
“I don’t eat sushi, so I can’t really say.” He looks at his red-haired friend, who is less cute but still cute. “Where do you go?”
“Spicy Nine,” he says, eyeing Chris. “Just go down Franklin that way and you’ll run right into it.” He winks at her, and they go back to walking in the other direction.
“Should we go after them?” she says, her eyes following them as they walk away. “Find out what they’re up to tonight?”
I steer her in the direction they pointed us to. “I thought you were hungry,” I remind her.
“Oh yeah,” she says. “So that’s one point in the UNC column, am I right? Hotter guys?”
“I’m sure William and Mary has good-looking guys too.” Quickly I add, “Not that it matters to me, because I obviously have a boyfriend.” Who still hasn’t called, mind you. My phone is down to 5 percent, so by the time he does, it’ll be too late.
* * *
After we eat sushi, we wander around on Franklin Street, stopping in stores. I consider buying a UNC Tar Heels basketball hat for Peter, but he probably wouldn’t wear it, since he’ll be a Wahoo.
We pass a pole with signs on it, and Chris stops short. She points to a sign for a music hall called Cat’s Cradle. A band called Meow Mixx is playing tonight. “Let’s go!” Chris says.
“Have you ever heard of Meow Mixx before?” I ask. “What kind of music do they play?”
“Who cares. Let’s just go!” She grabs my hand. Laughing, we run down the street together.
There’s a line to get inside, and the band has already started to play; snatches of dancey music float through the open door. A couple of girls are waiting in line in front of us, and Chris throws her arms around me and tells them, “My best friend just got into UNC.”
I feel warm inside hearing Chris call me her best friend—to know that we still matter to each other, even though she has her work friends and I have Peter. It makes me feel sure that when she’s in Costa Rica, or Spain, or wherever she ends up, we’ll still be close.
One of the girls hugs me and says, “Congratulations! You’re going to love it here.” Her hair is in milkmaid braids, and she’s wearing a T-shirt that says HILLARY IS MY PRESIDENT.
Adjusting the lollipop enamel pin in her hair, her friend says, “Put down Ehaus or Craige for your dorm. They’re the most fun.”
I feel sheepish as I say, “Actually, I’m not coming here; we just came to visit. For fun.”
“Oh, where are you going?” she asks me, a slight frown on her freckled face.
“William and Mary,” I tell her.
“It’s not definite though,” Chris butts in.
“It’s pretty definite,” I say.
“I came here over Princeton,” the braided girl tells me. “That’s how much I loved it when I visited. You’ll see. I’m Hollis, by the way.”
We all introduce ourselves and the girls tell me about the English department, and going to basketball games at the Dean Dome, and the places on Franklin Street that don’t card. Chris, who zoned out during the English department part of the conversation, is suddenly all ears. Before we go inside, Hollis gives me her number. “Just in case you come here,” she says.
