Parallel

would we do that?
    “Sure,” I say, waiting for him to suggest that we stay. He doesn’t. He just puts his hands in his pockets and turns back toward the party.
    I take two steps and stop. I don’t want to go back. It’s a beautiful night and a really lame party. I don’t want to be there. I want to be here.
    “Let’s go inside,” I say suddenly. Josh looks confused.
    “I thought we were.”
    “No. I mean here.” I point at the house-in-progress. “Let’s see what our baby daddy is getting for his money.” Josh gives me a skeptical look. “C’mon. It’ll be fun.”
    “You’re wearing heels,” he points out.
    “So I’ll take them off,” I say, pulling them from my feet as I walk. “C’mon!” I’m already halfway up the driveway. Josh is still at the street, hanging back. I can’t tell if he thinks I’m cute or crazy. I keep walking, determined not to look back again.
    I’m almost to the wooden plank leading to what will become the front porch. Please let him follow me, please let him follow me, please let him—
    “Barefoot on a construction site. I can’t believe I’m authorizing this.” Josh is standing just a couple of feet away, my shoes in his hand. My grin is back with a vengeance. I do my best to rein it in.
    “This way, sir,” I say, stepping onto the plank. It’s wobblier than it looks. Josh puts his hand on my hip, steadying me. My entire body goes to liquid. I force myself to keep moving forward.
    The house seems even bigger from the inside. We wander around, guessing which room is which. “Our house in Worcester would fit inside this one room,” Josh says as we make our way through what we assume is the living room. “No joke. The whole thing.”
    “The stairs are done,” I say, pointing at the grand spiral staircase in the center of the room. “We should go up. From outside it looked like there was a balcony off the bedrooms. I’ll bet the stars are awesome from up there.”
    “Only if you let me go first,” Josh says. “If one of us has to fall through the stairs, I want it to be me.”
    “Okay . . . but be careful!”
    He points at the ground. “Says the girl with bare feet.”
    I look down at my toes, which are now covered in sawdust. “Yeah, the no-shoes thing seemed like a better idea out on the driveway,” I admit.
    “Nah, it seemed like a pretty terrible idea out there, too,” Josh says, starting up the stairs. “But you were too cute to stop.”
    Fighting it is futile. The grin takes over.
    He climbs the stairs slowly, testing each step before putting his full weight on it.
    I’m two steps behind him, texting Caitlin as I ascend.
W JOSH. DONT LEAVE WITHOUT US.
    “Watch out for those nails,” I hear Josh say. Slipping my phone into my back pocket, I sidestep the two-by-four lying across the staircase. There are four nails sticking out of one end, pointing straight up.
    “Talk about an accident waiting to happen,” I remark. “Someone could step on that.”
    “Hence the ‘Authorized Personnel Only’ sign on the fence at the end of the driveway,” Josh replies. He reaches the top of the stairs and looks around. “I think this is the end of the road, boss.”
    I step up beside him. Although we couldn’t tell from down below, only the landing has been floored: The rest of the second floor is still just beams and rafters. So much for our romantic rendezvous on the balcony. I look over at him, willing him closer, but he’s already headed back down the stairs.
    As I’m following him down, my phone vibrates with Caitlin’s response.
WHERE R U GUYS?
    I’m looking down at my phone, writing her back, when the nails pierce my skin. The sensation catches me off guard. I inhale sharply, bracing for the pain. A moment later, it comes. Sharp, swift, intense. Crying out in agony, I jerk my leg up, but the nails—and the two-by-four—are still attached to my left foot. I reach for the railing to keep from losing my balance, then realize there isn’t one. The next thing I know, I’m lying in a heap at the base of the stairs, free from the offending two-by-four, which clatters to the ground beside me.
    “Abby!” Josh leaps to my side.
    “Stepped. On. The nails.” The pain is radiating up my leg, and there is sawdust in my eyes. “I’ll be fine, I jus—”
    Before I can finish my sentence, Josh has pulled me up into his arms and is carrying me toward the front door.
    “Really, I’m f-fine,” I manage. “You can p-put me