“Your secrecy is starting to trouble me,” she said in an ominous tone.
“I’ll talk only when there’s something to say.”
“Said no woman ever.” Angus groaned when Lauren elbowed him.
“Fascinating as this is,” Max cut in, “I was wondering if you guys want to go to the dollar house tonight.”
There were two cinemas in Mount Albion, a regular-priced new cineplex, and a grubby, cut-rate one that had four screens and you paid between two and four dollars for a ticket, depending on the type of movie. Old blockbusters were usually four; the weird shit Max liked to watch was generally two.
“I still haven’t forgiven you for Thankskilling,” Lauren said. “But if I get to a good stopping point on my history paper, I could be persuaded to go sit in the dark and eat nachos.”
Angus shook his head. “Pass for me. Josh is cooking dinner.”
“Fancy,” I said.
“Oh, it’ll be revolting. But I didn’t have the heart to say no. He’s so cute when he tries.” Angus shoved Lauren off him and got up. “Speaking of which, I need to get moving.”
“What about you, Conrad? If you don’t go, Lauren might get overexcited over riding on the back of my bike. She might even think this is a date. It’ll be anarchy.”
“Cats living with dogs,” I said seriously.
I thought for a few seconds, listening to Angus bang around his room, presumably looking for something. He ran out a few seconds later. If I stayed home, I would have complete privacy for a balcony chat. On the other hand, I’d been neglecting my roomies lately, and I couldn’t let my fascination with Ty bloom into a full obsession, especially when he had been crystal clear about his intentions.
“I’m in, as long as we go to the late show. I have work to do first.”
“All work and no play, something something, make me a sandwich?” Max tried.
I smacked him on the way to the kitchen for some ramen, then I took the cup to my room and cracked open a virtual textbook while I ate. The reading went fast—well, for me; my lesson plan project less so, but I typed up some ideas and compiled a folder full of samples to give me more direction. Later, Lauren came in and got on her laptop, tapping away on her paper.
By nine, Max was wandering around our room, bored and touching things. When he opened my underwear drawer, I kicked him. “Fine, I get it. You’re ready to leave.”
I went in the bathroom, tried to tame my curls and brushed my teeth. Then I dodged into the closet and changed my shirt. The jeans were fine. I added a swipe of gloss, a beanie when I realized my hair was horrible, and emerged, scowling.
“It’s about time.” Lauren grinned to show she was kidding.
“I take it I’m driving.”
“If only I had a sidecar,” Max said.
Though I grumbled, I didn’t mind playing chauffeur. Max climbed in the back, letting Lauren have shotgun. I turned the music up really loud—to the point that it was impossible to do anything but scream along. Turned out it was a horror-movie parody Max wanted to see, so it was two bucks, as predicted. I ate nachos and chocolate for dinner, plus I laughed a lot.
Not bad.
It was late when we got home because Max talked us into swinging by the diner for midnight pancakes. They were delicious, but now I had to add a gym visit to my to-do list tomorrow. While Lauren and Max went straight to bed, I made a cup of tea and drank it alone on the balcony. Ty must be in bed by now. His patio was dark apart from the fading twinkle of his solar lights, and his living room lamp was off, too.
I drained the mug in a hurry and didn’t look up at the stars, not remotely ready to see if they’d shine as bright without him. It couldn’t happen, and I planned to fight this feeling, no surrender, until I could treat Ty with the same affection I gave my roomies.
“We could’ve been so good together,” I whispered to the night.
Leaving if only behind, I squared my shoulders and went silently inside.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The rest of September, I was strong.
I went to school and hung out with friends, did coursework, turned in my project on time and continued to doubt myself as I struggled in the practicum. Pretty much the only time I saw Ty was when he picked Sam up from school. Since he didn’t ask why I’d backed off, I figured he knew. If he minded, he’d say something, right? This wasn’t the typical dating move—run to see if he’ll chase you. It was far more basic and for the sake of self-preservation. I’d skated right up to the edge of falling for him, and had fallen hard, but since he was honest with me about his situation, I regrouped.
After that first time, Ty never acted like he didn’t know me. When our paths crossed outside the building or at the fitness center, we made casual conversation. He was friendly. Sometimes we talked about how Sam was doing at day care. If it stung a bit for things to be like this when we had so much damned potential, well, it was better than huge heartbreak later.
I’m being sensible. It makes no sense to fixate on a guy I can’t have.
Things were on a pretty even keel, and I wasn’t horrified by my test scores, mostly As and Bs. I had almost forgotten—okay, not at all—the rush of excitement I’d felt waiting for Ty on the balcony, so I was surprised to find him waiting one night after work. He’d picked Sam up and they left the building before me, but as I stepped outside, I saw them in the parking lot.
“Do you have a minute?” he asked.
“Sure.” I was too startled to say anything else.
“Let me get Sam squared away. Walk us to the car?”
“Please, Nadia?” The small Tyler gazed up at me imploringly, and I probably wouldn’t say no if he asked for a kidney.
“No problem, bud.”
He looked at me mock-reproachfully. “My name is Sam.” Then he laughed, because he never tired of that game.
While I’d spent less time with his dad lately, I spent twenty-odd hours a week with Sam. He was smart, adorable, funny, all-around awesome. Late at night, after doing my homework, I got on joke sites because he was obsessed with dinosaurs. So now, whenever I first saw him, I had to come up with a new one every time as a greeting. Today it was: What do you get when dinosaurs crash their cars? Tyrannosaurus wrecks! Then I wrote out the words, so he could really appreciate the joke. The day before, I hit him with, What do you call it when a dinosaur makes a goal with a soccer ball? A dino-score! His giggle was seriously the light of my life.