Our Year of Maybe by Rachel Lynn Solomon

Author:Rachel Lynn Solomon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon Pulse

It’s nearly midnight when Chase drives me home. We’re in the middle of this game where we play a song and then hard-core judge the other person if they don’t know the band. He gets me on Pink Floyd.

“You’re a musician and you don’t know Pink Floyd?” he asks, incredulous, spiking the volume of his car speakers. “This is unacceptable.”

“I know of them,” I insist. “I just . . . wouldn’t be able to name any of their songs.”

He scoffs. “Doesn’t count. Listen. They’re so inventive. No one was doing this kind of stuff back then.”

We drive for a while, over bridges and beneath trees, Pink Floyd serenading us.

“I’d never done anything like this before tonight,” I tell him when the song changes. “I think I missed out on a lot. And not just because I was sick—or maybe I used that as a crutch, because I was sick and my parents were overprotective. Until a few weeks ago, I’d never been to a party. I’ve never gone to a high school dance, and I’ve never gone on a date.”

“Poor, stunted Peter,” he says, shaking his head. His golden-brown hair falls in his face, and he shoves it away. “Wait. You and Sophie haven’t ever dated?”

“We’re best friends,” I say, which doesn’t answer his question. “Friends” barely seems to encompass what we are. There has to be a word deeper than “friend” and more personal than “donor” to describe someone who has given you a kidney. “But, uh, no. We haven’t dated.”

“I guess I don’t really know her. We had a class together last year, and I think I heard her talk once.”

“She . . . she takes a while to open up. But I’ve known her forever, and she’s—she’s amazing.”

The way I feel about Chase isn’t at all how I felt about Sophie. My attraction to Chase is stronger—because I’m older now, because I understand what that attraction can lead to. Chase is newness, excitement. A band with a catalog of albums I haven’t listened to yet. Sophie, when I liked her, was all comfort. Warm blankets and a TV show you’ve seen a hundred times. In a way, though, Sophie’s the reason I’m even in the car with Chase right now.

“Okay, so you’ve never been on a date. Have you ever . . . kissed anyone?” He doesn’t say it cruelly. It’s almost like he wants to make sure I haven’t missed out on the greatness that is kissing someone who wants to kiss you back.

The question brings heat to my cheeks. “Only Sophie,” I say, and he turns in his seat to lift his brows at me, like maybe I was lying about not having dated her. “A few years ago. We weren’t dating, though. It just sort of happened.” I don’t tell him about the kiss at the party—those feelings are still too raw, especially after Sophie’s outburst at dinner earlier this week. A brief silence follows, so I punt the question back. “Have you?”

“I had a boyfriend last year.

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