Love? Maybe. Read Free Page B

means one of two things: Either the ginormous pecan tree out front has finally fallen on the house like my stepfather, Beau, always worries it will—and come on, that’s never going to happen—or it means that Charlie’s home.
     
    There’s another big bump on the roof above my head. I quickly hop out of bed and grab a sweatshirt from my closet. I hurry to the window and open it. A blast of cold air hits me hard, making me gasp. My room is the smallest one in the house, but what it lacks in size, it more than makes upfor with access to the roof. I grab the chocolates Jan gave me (minus the two I gave to Lucy and Dom) from my desk and climb out on my windowsill, using the trellis to hoist myself up. My mother would freak if she knew I was up here. But I’m such a good daughter ninety-nine percent of the time that I figure I’m allowed this one bit of rebellion.
     
    “Hey,” I say into the dark. “When’d you get home?”
     
    “Couple of hours ago.”
     
    I smile toward the dark shape outlined against the sky. Charlie and I have been friends ever since his family moved in next door nearly eight years ago. I walk over and sit beside him, hooking my heels on the gutter.
     
    “Here,” I say, sliding the bag of chocolates over toward him. “I can’t promise anything.”
     
    “Oh man, I was hoping—” He opens the bag and pops one of the truffles into his mouth. I hear him chewing and then silence. “Um, Piper?”
     
    “Kalamata Caramel,” I say.
     
    “As in olives?”
     
    “Yep,” I say, trying hard not to laugh. I couldn’t bring myself to try them.
     
    “Huh,” he says, popping another one in his mouth. “Actually, they’re pretty good.” Charlie puts the bag down on the roof between us.
     
    “Dom and Lucy liked it,” I say. “Of course, I didn’t tell them they were olive flavored.”
     
    “Did
you
make these?”
     
    “No,” I say. “I don’t think in a million years I would have guessed that olives and caramel might taste good together.” But that’s why Jan’s the artist and I’m the bookkeeper. Six months ago, Jan did finally get me to make something. He helped me create a whole line of unusual taffy flavors. At first it was just the underappreciated fruit flavors like plum and cantaloupe. Then I really started branching out. The breakfast collection (flavors included bacon, orange juice, and pancake) was mentioned in the
Atlanta Journal-Constitution
last fall along with the Readers’ Picks. Jan was really proud of me. The added exposure, along with the new Flavor of the Month truffles, helped earn Jan’s the title of Best Candy in Atlanta. My mom’s flower shop was named the Best Florist for the third year in a row.
     
    “So what do you have brewing for Valentine’s this year?” Charlie asks.
     
    “Well—” I pause for dramatic effect. “Consternation Hearts.” Charlie doesn’t say anything. “You know, like conversation hearts—but instead of I Love You or Say Yes, mine say Buzz Off and No Way.”
     
    “Pretty clever,” Charlie says.
     
    “I know, right?” I say. Charlie shakes his head. We sit there looking out at the lights of the city and the handful of stars you can see from in town. “How was your trip?’ I ask finally.
     
    “Okay,” he says.
     
    “Okay? What about all those California girls you were talking about before you left?”
     
    “Well, that part was pretty good,” he says.
     
    “Heartbreaker,” I say.
     
    Charlie puts up his hand. “No hearts were broken.”
     
    “How was it with your mom?” I ask.
     
    “Weird,” he says. Charlie’s dad and mom split up at the end of last summer and his mom moved out to California. This was his first trip to see her.
     
    “Weird how?” I ask.
     
    “Just weird seeing her without my dad, you know?” I nod. I’m familiar with that kind of weirdness, having lived through my mom’s two divorces.
     
    “Tell me it gets easier,” he says. I can’t see his face in the