Lucky Girl by Jamie Pacton (novels for beginners txt) 📕

we used to listen to, I remind myself of how awful he is: He doesn’t like dogs or cats; he swears the classics are the best things ever written and will only read a book written after 1960 if it’s been assigned; his commitment to environmental issues is dicey at best, since he drinks out of one-off water bottles; and he never read the copy of Sea Change I gifted him a week after we first kissed.

But some small voice also asks: Is all that stuff really so bad?

I’m not sure, and another voice reminds me of what he has going for him, or what he had going for him, before the breakup: Besides the perfect, shiny, rom-com life I thought we were living, Holden also used to come pick me up every morning so I didn’t have to walk to school; he listened to me bitch about my mom without saying anything; he took me out on his family’s boat and then was okay when I just wanted to float on the water, not talking. We learned so much about sex and our bodies together.

Dammit.

The internal war rages inside me as we pull onto the highway, and I shut my eyes, hoping sleep will drag me under so I don’t have to talk to Holden.

“So, what do you think of this lotto-winner news?” asks Holden. “Man, I wish I’d bought a ticket. If I’d won, I’d be out of this town and off to spend my millions in, like, a heartbeat.”

My dreamy clouds of almost-sleep disappear. “What?” I say, sitting up abruptly. I give a big fake yawn to cover up the panicky note in my voice. “Sorry, I didn’t go to bed until late last night.”

“Big Junk Dump day?” Holden raises an eyebrow, and I hate him for knowing why that would mean anything to me.

“Uh-huh.” That’s all I’m giving him.

“I can let you rest,” he says.

“Why are you being so nice?” I blurt out. Obviously, the question has been on my mind all morning.

“Because we’re friends,” says Holden, as if that sums it all up.

“Are we?”

“Yes.”

“You broke up with me, remember?”

“Well, yeah …”

“We dated for two years, and we broke up out of the blue because you said you were unhappy and weren’t into me anymore …”

This is a lot of anger and unsaid things that I’m throwing at him, but I don’t want to talk about the lotto winner. And I would love an explanation. Or at least more than the “I don’t think we’re a good fit as a couple anymore” and the other generic reasons he offered when he ended our relationship.

Holden rubs one hand along the back of his neck and has the good grace to look embarrassed. He also looks super hot as he drives one-handed. I hate my stupid lizard brain for noticing that.

“I’m sorry,” he says slowly. “Breaking it off like that was a bad idea on my part.”

Wait. Did he just say that?

“It really hurt me,” I admit. And then I don’t say what I really want to say: Was it such a bad idea that he’s thinking we should get back together? Is that something he’s even interested in?

Because I’m not sure how I feel about that. Being this close to Holden, and being honest with him, really feels like I’m on a tightrope walking over a shark tank.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he says. And he sounds like he really is. Or maybe I’m just too tired to tell the difference. “I really miss you, Jane. Like, nothing is as fun without you around.”

Well. I’ve been called a lot of things, but super fun is not one of them.

And that’s when I realize I’ve missed him too.

“Oh shut up,” I say with a long sigh. “Let’s not do this now. Tell me about your birthday. What else did you get, besides this car?”

Holden glances over at me quickly, as if he wants to say more.

“And keep your eyes on the road. We have third graders to chaperone. We must arrive in one piece.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Holden says with that easy, friendly laugh of his. He sounds like his old self.

God. Have I actually missed his laugh? I should text Bran right now, tell him I’m in danger, but Holden’s talking about how his family went to Hawaii over fall break, how he celebrated his eighteenth birthday on the beach, and how he thought of me the entire time they were at the whale sanctuary.

“Wait, wait, wait,” I say, rewinding his last sentences. “Say that again. You actually went to the Humpback Whale National Marine Sanctuary?”

Holden laughs again. “Yes. I’ve been trying to tell you about it since we got back, but you wouldn’t talk to me. I got you something. Look in the glove box.”

“I still hate you,” I say under my breath as I open the glove box.

There’s a blue paper bag inside with a humpback whale stamped on it. I open it, pulling out a small enamel pin. On it is a picture of a humpback whale breaching beside a boat.

“It’s perfect,” I admit grudgingly, as I pin it to my backpack.

“We went out on a boat just like the one on the pin,” says Holden. “I got seasick, but the whales were magnificent.”

“Now I really hate you.” But I can’t keep the smile out of my voice. “The only way you can make up for it is to tell me absolutely everything about the visit.”

Holden smiles. “Deal.”

We spend the rest of the ride talking about what Holden saw, how it felt to be so close to the whales, and my plans for being an oceanographer.

“Enjoy the sea sickness,” he says. “I still love nature, but I’m keeping my feet planted firmly on the ground. The deeper in the woods, the better.”

“I’m ocean and you’re woods. This is why we didn’t work,” I say, but all my bite is gone. In fact, I find myself smiling at Holden as we pull into the parking lot of