Chapter Text
The moment Ricky crosses the state lines of Illinois and into Chicago, he's resolved to hate it. It's really nothing personal against the city except for the fact that it's the place that's taken him away from his friends and everything he's ever known.
His mother, however, is hell-bent on convincing him otherwise. She spends the entire flight talking his ear off about the city, "You're going to love it, Ricky. The architecture and the culture are so incredible!" She raves and Ricky struggles to share this same enthusiasm. "The house is a lot bigger than the bachelor pad your father's shacked up in too. I mean, seriously! What kind of mother would I be if I let you live there?" She tuts in disapproval.
He notes that she managed to go twenty minutes and fifteen seconds without insulting his dad and her ex-husband (a new record). "Yup. Sound great." He replies impassively and she either doesn't notice or chooses to ignore his lukewarm attitude.
"I know this isn't easy for you--"
Nope. He already knows where that's leading and he really doesn't want to have that conversation. Not particularly caring about being polite, Ricky puts in his earbuds and turns his music up to the maximum volume to drown out his mother's idle chatter. He couldn't keep listening to her ringing endorsements and endless praise for a city that she'd abandoned her family for.
His tactic, while rude, actually works. His mom frowns but seems to take the hint and leaves him alone. She instead spends the rest of the flight browsing through magazines and taking advantage of her expensive neck pillow.
He dozes off not long after and wakes to the pilot's voice over the intercom telling the passengers that they've arrived. He glances outside the window with bleary eyes to see the plane descend onto the runway with a loud thud.
"We're here!" His mom exclaims and Ricky tries to muster up a weak smile but it feels more like a grimace than anything.
They wait for an excruciating forty minutes at baggage claim before finally retrieving their suitcases and lugging them outside. After a direct seven-hour flight with irregular naps where he alternated between the tray table and the window as a pillow, Ricky's eager to get to a place with an actual bed. Hell, he'll even settle for an air mattress.
Ricky glances around the airport terminal though for what he's unsure. "Are we taking a taxi there or did we rent a car?"
"Not exactly." Her eyes focus on something behind him and a smile transforms her face. "Todd!" She shouts, waving to get his attention.
...Todd!?
He turns around and sure enough there he is. His mom's new boyfriend waves at them with a matching smile. "Fuck." Ricky mutters under his breath.
He can't help but feel a bit ambushed. It's all too reminiscent of when he'd first found out about their relationship. He was blindsided by this only two months after she'd sprung the divorce and move on him. The feeling when he first picked up her phone returns tenfold.
He turns to his mom to ask what exactly he's doing here but finds that she's no longer beside him. She's already haphazardly abandoning their luggage to jog toward him. Todd meets her in the middle and she jumps into his arms with a squeal. It's a bizarre sight to see, his mom so obviously in love. Ricky tries to think of the last time she ever returned to his dad like that, with any type of excitement and adoration. He draws a blank, obviously.
Ricky's jaw feels wired and tight as he watches him greet his mom with a chaste kiss before wrapping her into his arms. "Welcome home baby," He mumbles into her hair, and Ricky wonders when the hell Chicago and Todd became synonymous with the word home.
To Ricky, home was a two-story house in Salt Lake City with the kitchen where they teased his dad about his awful cooking, the driveway that he'd taught himself to skate down, and the bathroom his parents had patched him up in when he inevitably fell and banged his knee.
Except, those were just memories. It hadn't been like that in a long time and truth be told, that house had felt empty long before his entire life got packed into boxes. Even still, Ricky had never been the best at embracing change and often had a nasty habit of clinging to the past.
After another agonizing ten seconds of watching them reunite, Todd finally turns to greet him, "Ricky! It's so good to officially meet you! I know our first introduction didn't go as smoothly--"
He's unable to bite back his sarcastic response, "You mean when I found out about your existence and relationship over the phone?" He asks, more rhetorically than anything.
"Ricky!" His mother admonishes. She shoots an apologetic look at Todd. "Apologize. Right now."
"It's alright, Lynne." He reassures before turning back to him, "Yeah. That was a mistake on my part but I hope we can start over." He answers, seemingly unphased by Ricky's hostility toward him.
"I'm Todd. It's nice to meet you." He extends his hand out and Ricky eyes it with caution. He doesn't exactly know what to make of this guy but he doesn't like him. Not one bit. Still, he begrudgingly accepts his hand and shakes it.
"Ricky." He grumbles in a manner similar to a pouting toddler.
It's safe to say that the car ride to their new place is awkward after that. Todd attempts to make small talk but Ricky's short replies don't give him much to work with. As it turns out, the word 'fine' is more versatile than one would think.
When Todd asks, 'How was your flight?', Ricky answers with a simple 'fine'.
'Did you have a good semester?', he inquires, and again Ricky responds with 'it was fine'.
Around his fourth 'fine', Todd gives up and Ricky spends the rest of the drive silently sulking in the backseat.
So, to say they're all relieved when they finally pull into the driveway of their new house would be an understatement. Ricky peers out the windshield to find a quaint brick townhouse that almost looks as if it's been plucked from colonial times. It stands tall and narrow, packed in between a throng of other similarly styled residences.
They haul their luggage out of the trunk and up the flight of stairs. His mom opens the front door with a 'ta-da!' revealing their already furnished house.
She raves about all the new amenities it has (a walk-in closet, a built-in breakfast nook, and a fireplace) but all Ricky can focus on is what it doesn't have. The marks on the door frame that displayed his height throughout the years, the hole in the wall from when Big Red had dared him to do an ollie in the house, basically everything and anything with sentimental value.
As his mom continues to give him the grand tour, Ricky can't help but notice the glaring absence of photos of his dad. It's like she's completely erased him from their lives.
The last room she shows him is his new bedroom. The walls are painted blue with framed pictures that don't really represent his interests and are really there to fill the empty space. There are a few potted plants (fake, of course, Ricky would kill any real ones) and lots of throw pillows. It's nice but impersonal and feels more like a guest room.
His mom must be thinking the same thing because she says, "Feel free to make it your own. Maybe throw up a Tony Hawk poster?" She suggests.
Ricky can acknowledge that she's making an effort but it still doesn't make this suck any less. Still, he decides to throw her a little bone. "No, yeah. This is great. Thanks, mom."
The way she beams at him assures him that pretending to like the room was the right move. "Well, unpack and get settled. I'm going to run to the grocery store to pick up some things for our first family dinner tonight. I'm making your favorite, spaghetti."
Ricky's stomach grumbles and he remembers that he'd only eaten pretzels after declining the airplane food they'd offered (a very unappetizing and very questionable chicken dish).
"Oh! Before I forget--" His mom places something cold and metal into the palm of his hand and Ricky glances down to find a key in his hand. "Welcome home, Ricky."
It feels anything but.
___
The next week blurs together as Ricky falls into a routine which is a nicer word for slump. He sleeps until noon, plays video games, catches up with his dad and best friend, rinses, and repeats.
His mom makes many failed attempts to get him to go out. She offers to show him the city and her favorite spots but Ricky has an excuse lined up for every occasion: illnesses that range from a stomach ache to allergies and jet lag despite Chicago only being an hour ahead.
Her latest attempt to get him out, however, is a bit more creative, "There's a girl your age next door who also just moved in and from what I've seen she's pretty cute." She mentions casually though the undertone of her voice gives her away. "You should go introduce yourself." She encourages.
Ricky burrows deeper into his bed. "I'll pass."
Her son's negative attitude does little to dissuade her, "Well, you could at least make friends with her!" She insists.
When Ricky says nothing she asks a bit more hesitantly, "Is it because of Nini?"
He winces at the mention of his ex-girlfriend. Their recent breakup is still a bit of a sore subject. "Nini and I aren't together anymore."
Her face falls. "Oh no. What happened?"
You did, he thinks. His parents warped his perception of love and now he's terrified to open his heart to the possibility of it knowing that he could still end up like them. So much so that he couldn't even say those three words to the girl he'd been crushing on since elementary school.
Instead, he says, "Doesn't matter. I'm a thousand miles away from her now so--"
"Aw, honey. I'm so sorry." She says and Ricky hates the pity on her face. "Why didn't you tell me?"
His mom is the last person he'd turn to for relationship advice. It's an unfair and mean thought but regardless, it's the first one he has. He shrugs in lieu of saying it. "I just don't really feel like talking about it." It's a half-truth. He doesn't but he really doesn't want to talk about it with her.
His mom sighs defeatedly but before she relents completely makes one last attempt, "Well, just think about it. A friend might make this transitional period a little easier. Not to mention she's probably going through the same exact thing you are."
"Alright. I will." He tells her mostly to appease her but knowing he has no plans of doing that.
He figures they've put this matter to bed but finds his mom has one more trick up her sleeve that's powerful enough to force his hand: dessert. He wakes up to the smell of baked goods, the sugary aroma filling his nostrils and rousing him from his deep sleep. He pads downstairs, following the scent into the kitchen where his mom is with her family's famous (and Ricky's favorite) snickerdoodles.
"You're baking cookies? What's the occasion?" He asks, partly skeptical but mostly salivating over how good they look.
He reaches for one but his mom smacks his hand away. "Ah! Not for you."
Ricky's brows furrow. "Then who are they for?" He asks, now entirely skeptical.
His mom wears a smile almost as sweet as the cookies. "The neighbors. You can have one if you bring them over."
Ricky's mouth falls open. Has she seriously resorted to bribery? "Are you serious?"
"Deadly."
Ricky feels himself caving not just because he really wants a cookie but because it's clear his mom is determined to get him to make friends. He realizes now what he didn't yesterday. The only way she'll leave him alone is if he does this, otherwise, she'll keep nagging him about it.
Ricky groans before snatching the container from her hands, ignoring the smug look of victory on his mom's face. He starts to make the short trek next door when his stomach growls and he decides he can't wait a minute longer. He takes a cookie out of the Tupperware and stuffs it into his mouth (for courage, he tells himself).
He rings the doorbell and prays that nobody's home but no such luck. The door swings open a few seconds later and in the doorway stands the girl his mom mentioned. He'd brushed her off when she brought up her looks but his mom was right, she is cute. She has piercing brown eyes and dark brown curls that rest just above her shoulders and across her forehead.
She's tall and stands only a few inches shorter than him and she looks to be around his age, no younger than fifteen years old.
And she's cute. Did he already mention that? Cause she is. Cute, that is.
His neighbor looks at him expectedly when he remains silent. "Can I help you?"
Shit. Words, Ricky! In his stupor, he'd forgotten that she was waiting for him to tell her why he was standing at her door. "Hi. I'm Ricky. Your neighbor." He says though his words are muffled from a mouthful of cookies. He chews and swallows before continuing, "My mom wanted to bring over some cookies. You know, to say welcome to the neighborhood."
She stares at him for a beat, a bit warily. "And you're the welcome wagon?"
Ricky smiles sheepishly. "That's me." He extends the cookies out to her and she very reluctantly accepts them but says nothing in response. She doesn't outrightly say 'thank you' nor does she say 'go away' but he figures he's not entirely unwelcome because she continues to prop the door open against her hip.
"They're snickerdoodles. Prize-winning, might I add. And a Bowen family recipe passed down generations." He rambles, eager to fill the silence.
The girl finally looks down at them, inspecting them very carefully as if they might be poisoned, and frowns. "Did you eat one?"
"...no?" He lies but he's very unconvincing and it comes out more like a question. She picks up on this and shoots him an unimpressed look. "Yes. Sorry." He admits.
Ricky swears he sees her lips twitch as she fights a smile. "Mhm," is the only response she gives.
"At least, now you know they aren't poisoned." He states as if he's done her a favor.
She folds her arms across her chest and raises an eyebrow. "I don't know that at all. For all I know, you could've poisoned the rest."
"I'm more than happy to eat another one of your choosing to prove they aren't. In fact, I can take the entire thing off your hands if you're uninterested." He offers, practically jumping at the opportunity to taste them again.
He reaches for the container but she pulls them back further into her arms. "Are you seriously trying to steal more of my welcome cookies? Some neighbor you are." She huffs indignantly and Ricky pales at her accusation.
He's about to apologize when he sees the small smile playing on her lips and he realizes that she's messing with him. The sight makes him feel a bit lighter and he suddenly realizes that his mom was onto something and he wouldn't entirely mind having her as a friend.
She seems to be warming up to him which is the only logical reason why Ricky feels compelled to impulsively blurt out an invitation to hang out, "I could reimburse you for the cookie with lunch? I just moved here too so I haven't figured out which restaurants are good and which ones will give us food poisoning but--"
It's apparently the wrong thing to say. A flip switches and her demeanor suddenly reverts back to being cold and guarded. "No." She answers, a bit too firmly.
"No?" Ricky repeats dumbly.
Regret flashes across her face but she remains resolved in her stance. "No thanks." She corrects, noticeably softening her voice.
Before Ricky can protest (or shrivel up in embarrassment), she closes the door in his face with a quiet, "Bye, Ricky."
He stares at the door for a beat before walking back to his house. For a moment, he swears he feels a pair of eyes following him back but when he turns around the blinds are closed and no one is there.
"Sooo? How'd it go?" His mom asks eagerly when he returns home.
"Fine." He tells her but the way Ricky stalks upstairs without another word and slams the door says otherwise.
That's the last time he takes his mother's advice.
___
The rest of the day passes by as slow as molasses. He tries to fall back into his normal routine but he can't seem to get that girl out of his head. He plays a round of Mario Kart with Big Red but comes in dead last and calls it quits after two games.
He spends the rest of the day overthinking the entire interaction with his neighbor. He runs through a million reasons why she could've possibly rejected him: the most plausible being that he was a stranger and the hardest one to accept being that she just wasn't all that interested.
His grumpy mood must be more unbearable than usual because his mom comes to check on him after dinner and finds him sulking on the front porch. "You didn't eat much." She notes.
He hadn't. He took maybe three bites of the casserole she'd made and had mostly pushed the contents of his plate around with his fork before excusing himself. "I wasn't hungry."
His mother laughs as if this is implausible. "You're always hungry. Try again."
Ricky sighs heavily and finally unloads everything off his chest, "I miss home. I miss Salt Lake and my friends." And dad, he adds silently. "And I tried to make friends with the neighbor but she's not interested and I just feel so alone."
"I understand it's hard but--" She begins again.
"You really don't!" He snaps and maybe it's because he's been bottling his emotions since he got off the plane but everything comes spilling out, "You wanted to move here. As soon as the divorce papers were signed you were ready to leave any trace of your old life behind. I just wish you'd done the same with me."
Hurt slashes across her features and the guilt Ricky feels is instantaneous. "I'm sorry." He buries his face in his hands as tears leak out of his eyes. "I didn't mean that. I'm just upset."
"You meant it but that's okay. I'm sorry too." She replies a bit shakily. She takes a deep breath before saying, "Just promise me that you'll give this place a chance and if you still hate it by the end of the summer then you can move back in with your dad."
"Really?" He asks, disbelief coloring his voice.
"Really." She swears so earnestly that Ricky really does believe her.
It almost feels too good to be true. "No catch?"
"All I ask is that you actually take me up on my offer to see the city and make some friends. If you don't then the deals off."
"Yeah." He says a bit too eagerly. "I'm in."
His mom nods somberly before heading inside, leaving Ricky alone with his thoughts. This is all he's ever wanted and now all he has to do is traverse around the city a bit and then he can go home. Piece of cake.
Ricky thinks about all the things he'll be returning to: dry and hot summers, late nights at the skatepark, and comped dinner at Slices. The list gets shorter from there as his parents sold his childhood home and his now ex-girlfriend is at camp. 'Win some, lose some,' he supposes.
The sun starts to set and Ricky finds himself taking one last look at the house next door before heading inside. The news is almost enough to make him forget about her... almost.
Later that night, the doorbell rings and Ricky opens the door but finds no one there. He peers around the neighborhood but finds the streets empty. He's ready to blame the entire thing on ding-dong ditchers when his feet bump against something and he glances down to find a container with a note on it that reads,
'Thanks for the cookies,' and at the bottom of the note her name is signed in neat handwriting: Gina.
He peels off the lid of the returned Tupperware and in it are freshly baked blueberry scones. A stupid smile forms on his face at the gesture. It feels like an unspoken apology and hope blooms in his chest. Maybe they could be friends.
He bites into one of her scones and groans at how good it tastes (debatably just as good as their snickerdoodles). It's warm and fluffy in his mouth and he chews it with a smile on his face.
He decides that tomorrow he'll go over and thank her for them and try again.
___
The next day, Ricky's surprised to find Gina already sitting on her porch steps. She's crocheting and is so immersed in it that she doesn't hear him approaching. He clears his throat to get her attention and her head finally snaps up. She looks a bit surprised to see him but she also looks relieved. Ricky foolishly thinks that maybe she wanted him to come over and was already expecting him.
"Hi." He greets her hesitantly, unsure if he misinterpreted her scones.
She offers him a small smile and Ricky's shoulders sag in relief. "Hi back."
Ricky figures he should ease his way into her rejecting his offer to hang out and instead starts by bringing up the peace offering (disguised as delicious baked goods) that she'd brought over, "Thanks for the scones. I ate like five in one sitting and my stomach suffered the consequences. It was worth it though because they were really good."
Ricky cringes at how much he's overshared but Gina seems to soften a bit at his words. She surprises him even further when she pats the space beside her on the step in a silent invitation to join her.
He moves to sit next to her and in the corner of his eye sees her open her mouth before quickly shutting it. She seems to be conflicted about what to say which is probably why she didn't stick around to actually give him the scones and instead left them at his door. He thinks she might say something but then she returns to crocheting.
That's fine. He'll talk then. He nods toward the crochet hooks she holds in her hands. "What are you making?" He asks.
Gina looks up at him and then back down at the yarn pooling in her lap. "Leg warmers." She answers.
Ricky raises a brow. "You are aware that it's summer right?"
Gina rolls her eyes jovially. "I'm well aware but thank you."
The humor dissipates and they can no longer tip-toe around the elephant in the room. The only problem is who will address it first. Ricky deduces that Gina probably has an equally hard time talking about these kinds of things and decides to take the first step, "Listen, if I overstepped in any way--"
"You didn't." She quickly interrupts.
"I think I did. Maybe not for the reasons I think but, I made you uncomfortable."
"Ricky." She interjects again. "It wasn't you. I promise." She reassures.
"Then what was it?" He asks, more lost than ever.
"I-- uh,"
Discomfort flits across her features and in fear that she'll shut down again Ricky quickly changes the subject, "Do you want to know the reason I invited you to lunch?"
Gina looks a bit relieved at the subject change. She nods eagerly. "Why did you?"
"I think I mentioned that I just moved here from Salt Lake but what I didn't tell you is everything I left behind. My best friend, my ex-girlfriend, my dad." Ricky's unsure if he imagines it but she almost looks understanding and it pushes him to continue, "Since then I've been pretty miserable but then I met you and it was the first time I didn't think about what I'd lost, and instead what I could be gaining."
He doesn't entirely know why he just told her all that but something about her made him want to open up. Maybe it's because he knows that she's just moved here too and there might be a chance that she could relate. Or maybe, Ricky's trying to make her comfortable enough to share too so that he can stop overthinking the meaning of those damn scones.
When she says nothing, his face heats in embarrassment. "I know that sounds super corny and probably weird since we just met--"
"It doesn't. It's actually really nice." Ricky glances at her in surprise and finds her face a bit flushed too. Still, she steels herself and pushes on, "If the scones didn't give it away, I'm sorry. I don't really have friends. I move a lot so it's just easier that way."
"That's gotta be really lonely." She nods in confirmation but there's no trace of sadness on her face. It's as if she's accepted that loneliness is the price she pays for the life she lives.
"I think--" Ricky pauses, carefully weighing his words so as not to scare her off. "--being friends could do both of us could do some good."
Gina glances behind her at the door, as if she's considering fleeing again, and Ricky holds his breath in anticipation. She looks at him again and she looks almost vulnerable when she says, "I'd like that."
Ricky breathes a sigh of relief before a smile transforms his face. She said yes. He quickly wipes it from his face when she glances at him again. "So, what now?" She genuinely asks.
Ricky thinks on it before returning to his original idea, "I think lunch is a good start. Do you know any good places?"
"I actually haven't explored the city much either. I don't have my license so..."
Ricky frowns as they hit the first obstacle of their friendship. "Right, and I don't have a car. I guess that's what public transportation is for."
"What about tourist spots? Visited any cool ones?" Gina asks.
He shakes his head. "Nah. I've been kinda holding a grudge against this city and decided to hate everything about it. What about you?"
"I haven't either. My mom works crazy hours so we haven't had time."
The deal Ricky made with his mom about making friends and giving the city a real chance comes to mind. He suddenly has a brilliant idea to combine both of those things, "Gina, what if we like, explored the city together?" He suggests aloud.
Gina, however, clearly doesn't think this is as brilliant as Ricky does. "I don't know, Ricky." She begins hesitantly. "I don't really like to get attached to things when I know I'm just going to leave them in a couple of months. That includes both people and places."
Ricky frowns, saddened by her words. "Then why'd you agree to be my friend?"
Gina just shrugs, absently picking at a hangnail to avoid his eyes. "I guess I haven't learned my lesson yet."
"If it makes you feel better you don't even have to consider me as your friend. Just think of me as your very unqualified tour guide."
She laughs softly and both the sound and sight of her happiness fill Ricky's chest with an unfamiliar warmth. He blames it on indigestion from too many scones. "What do you say?"
"Screw it. Let's do it." She agrees resolutely.
He holds out his hand and they shake on it, both of them ignoring the ticking clock on their newfound friendship as he'd inevitably go back to Salt Lake and she'd move away. It was harmless really, just two lonely kids exploring the city together. What could possibly go wrong?
The answer: a lot.