His eyes were locked on mine and, though he was smiling, it seemed false, his real feelings and thoughts kept somewhere deeper, where I suspected very few people were allowed. “What would you be afraid of ?” he asked softly.
It struck me as a bigger question, as if he meant in the totality of the universe, not fears about him, but about life.
Before I could answer, Zander said, “C’mon.” He walked past me, turning to wait at the door. “It’s freezing out. Way too cold to walk.”
I hesitated for one more second, Demetria caught in my mind, not because I thought he was involved with her, but because it had just occurred to me that maybe he knew her. For real. From church or something. And if he did, he could tell me things about her that might help. That was all the excuse I really needed.
“Okay.” I shrugged, following him to the door and forgetting to ask how he knew that I walked to school.
Chapter 14
If I’d had to guess, I would have put Zander behind the wheel of some fancy low-slung Italian sportscar—sleeker and more dangerous than Ryan’s. Instead, it was a banged-up, dark-blue Nissan. I guess Zander’s father didn’t own a thriving funeral home. Or maybe he did, for all I knew about Zander, which was basically nothing.
He opened the door for me, waving his hand grandly at the passenger seat. I smiled and climbed in as gracefully as I could.
His car was neat, freshly vacuumed, and smelled intoxicatingly like him, earthy and Eastern, like incense and patchouli oil. The scent was faint, the way wood like cedar or pine smells, its fragrance essential rather than applied.
Zander got in, cranking the heat up full blast and unwrapping his scarf. A small gold charm on a black leather necklace flashed in the dome light as he leaned forward. It settled against his silky olive skin in the spot where his top shirt button was undone. I looked down, fiddling with my bookbag’s zipper, but not before he’d caught me staring.
“You like?” He smiled slyly, holding out the charm, an O with a line through the center. I’d seen it before.
“It’s Greek, right?”
He nodded. “Do you know the letter?”
I shook my head. “My grandmother knew the language but never taught me.”
“It’s theta.” He was looking at me expectantly.
“Mmm. Very nice.” Him, the charm, all of it.
He smiled and let it drop back to his chest. “Which way?” Zander asked.
I gave him directions, canvassing the car as we drove. Beyond the classic rock station, there was little evidence of Zander’s personal tastes. His car was as generic as Jackson Kennit’s apartment had been.
“Who do you live with?” he asked. Most people assumed I lived with parents but of course I’d already told Zander I’d lived with my grandmother in Pennsylvania. Past tense.
“A friend. Her name’s Petra. She works at a mental hospital,” I added, shifting to see his reaction. “The one where I thought I saw you.”
Zander’s expression stayed completely neutral. “Ah. So that’s why you hang out at the nuthouse.”
“Sort of. But I was really there visiting Demetria.”
He said nothing.
“Do you know her? Demetria Kansokis? I thought you might, since she probably goes to your church.”
He shrugged, eyes still totally focused on the road. “Maybe she does. Like I said, I don’t go all the time. And I certainly don’t know everyone there.”
“You seem pretty in with the Greek community, though,” I persisted. “All the people you hang with at school, your church …” I really didn’t have anything else.
We had turned onto my street and Zander guided the car into an empty spot by the front of our building. He turned to me, the car still idling.
“You seem very interested in the Greek community,” he observed.
“Yeah, I guess.” I scratched at a smudge on my jeans, hoping I didn’t sound stalkerish and trying to come up with a version of the truth confessional enough that he’d believe it. “I’m probably way off-base thinking this, but I’m kind of short on family and it seems like being Greek—in the community and all—makes you part of something. Gives you a connection I guess I’d like to have.” I glanced up, giving him a half smile that felt sadder than I’d meant it to. “Pathetic, huh?”
Zander smiled back, his eyes almost kind. He was silent for a minute, then said, “Why don’t you come to my house for dinner this weekend?”
I couldn’t possibly have heard that right. “What?”
“My mom’s a great cook. You know, like your typical Greek.” He was teasing me now, but gently. “She’d love it if I brought a nice Greek girl like you home.”
“But …” I was totally floored. He wanted me to meet his mother? Have dinner with his family? “You hardly know me, Zander,” I said hesitantly, not wanting to offend him and not at all sure what his invitation meant.
“So I’ll wait a little longer before I propose.”
My obvious and total confusion made him laugh.
“Really, Cassie,” he said. “Lighten up. You seem like a nice person—a little lost, maybe, but nice. If you’re so interested in us Greeks, come on over and study us in our natural habitat. No pressure.”
“Uh …” I smiled weakly, feeling like a kid who’d spun herself dizzy. “Yeah, I guess.” I recovered my manners enough to add, “Thanks, Zander. That’s really nice.”
We settled the details. Saturday night. He’d pick me up.
I was getting out of the car, my head still whirling, when Zander leaned across, catching my wrist gently in his strong hand. “And just so there’s no mistake,” he said, his near-black eyes fixed on mine, “I do like you.”
I don’t even remember him letting me go. I stood on the sidewalk watching him drive away, that smug smile still on his lips. My heart was pounding and I felt hot enough to give off steam in the frigid Illinois winter. What was I getting into?
Chapter 15
At the wake on Saturday, Mr. Ludwig had to ask me three times to replenish supplies in the ladies’ room.
“What’s wrong with you?” Ryan asked after Mr. Ludwig had gone.
“I don’t know. Nothing,” I mumbled, feeling bad about disappointing Mr. Ludwig, who was clearly annoyed. But that couldn’t begin to compete with the other stuff I was feeling. Nervous, excited, and nauseated at the thought of tonight. Meeting the family of the boy I was finally willing to admit I had a huge crush on, though I barely knew him.