“Maybe Bob will find them. You said he’s your ‘sort of’ uncle?”
He smiled sheepishly as he picked up the menu. “Sort of. He’s not related to me. He was actually my mom’s landlord for a while, and we all got to know each other. Kind of… filled a gap, I guess. Games at the—oh my God, lemon ricotta pancakes.”
She laughed. Maybe she hadn’t offered such a bad choice after all. “The strawberry French toast is good too.”
“Maybe I should get some actual dinner. Like a grown-up or something.” He glanced at her.
“I’ll probably get a chickpea burger. Or maybe a hummus wrap. Those don’t really count for dinner, that’s more of a lunch thing, isn’t it? Maybe I should order a salad.” That was what girls were supposed to order on dates, right? Something that wasn’t the size of their face.
“No, no, you should get whatever you want.” He frowned at the menu.
“Chickpea burger it is.”
“Oooh, wait. Grilled ‘cheese.’ This is hard. So are you vegan… all the time? Does that make any sense?”
She smiled, but he kept glaring at the menu. “No. I didn’t even eat anything vegan until I met Tamira.”
“How did you meet?”
Luckily he missed her slight blush. “We’re in a fortune-telling club together.”
He glanced up. “Really? Oh, like the tarot reader?”
“Vi’s actually a PhD candidate. The fortune-telling is just for fun.”
“Ah. So do you read tarot too then?”
She shook her head, glad he was asking the questions. He’d run out eventually, and then it’d all be her. Or silence. Most likely silence. “Just a little. I dabble in some more… esoteric types. The Asian I Ching, for example. I’m just learning from the others for now. It’s a fun excuse to get together.” Also nice to get together with other smart and whimsical ladies who liked much less serious things than drawing dragons in their spare time.
He smiled. “Kind of like D&D.”
“I guess? You’re not just learning about that, though. You seem to know an awful lot about it.” She’d never had any friends that played. Well, until now. If she could count older folks she worked with and a guy she’d barely spoken to as friends.
He shrugged. “There is always more to learn, Penny-san.”
A giggle escaped her, but she had nothing to follow it with. Silence threatened.
“I give in. Grilled cheese and tomato soup it is. Like Bob used to make. Except I don’t think anything he’s ever cooked could be served here.”
She grinned at him, unsure of why that made her so happy. She wondered just how much Bob meant to him, but before she could figure out how to ask, Tamira swung by, took their order, and dropped off the teapot, pouring them each a cup. Penny cradled the small, round earthenware in her hands, alternately blowing on the tea and letting the steam warm her face.
Belatedly, she realized she should be saying something. “So, what do you do, Nick?” Please don’t say accounting, please don’t say accounting.
“I’m a photographer. Graduated last May.”
She stilled, glad her enjoyment of the steam hid her surprise. So he was an artist of a sort. This was too good to be true. The fact should delight her, but now it was starting to freak her out. This was too lucky. There was no way it would actually work. “What kind of photography do you do?”
“I’m still trying to find my place. I did a bunch of weddings last summer and liked it, so I might focus on that.”
“Weddings, really? What’s that like?”
“Nerve-racking. But fun. I did a mix of my own gigs and helping out with a few more established friends as a second camera.”
“Second camera?”
“You know, taking pictures of the groomsmen horsing around while the lead photographer is with the bride?”
“Oh. Cool. No, I haven’t been around many weddings.” Or any.
“No one in your family?”
“I have a small family. Just my mom, my sister, and me, really.”
“Ah.” A frantic silence—at least for her—settled for a moment. They both took hasty sips. “Me too.”
What did she say to that? Panic rose as the silence lengthened. Ask him about something—anything—that will keep him talking for a while this time. “How did you get into photography?”
“Oh, uh…” He looked down, and Penny sensed this was not the topic she was looking for. “When my parents got divorced, I had this therapist who suggested it. A way to reclaim some control, assert my view of the world.” He shifted uncomfortably but then seemed to relax a little. “It did do the trick. It’s nice. Relieves stress. At least, when I do it for fun. Weddings are not relaxing.” He grinned, propping up a knee and draping his arm over it as he leaned back. “I do some retouching for friends too. I might try to get into fine art or stock at some point. Just trying to figure out what will pay the bills.”
“Yeah.” She nodded knowingly. “That’s why I let my mom and sister talk me into accounting.”
“Why?”
“Well, I can’t make money with art.”
He shrugged. “Sure you can. Why not?”
She stared at him, mouth hanging open. His eyes darted to her lips and back up again. Oh. She probably looked like an idiot. “No one’s ever asked me that before. People always just assume…”
“Have you tried?” He smiled, taking the sting out of the words.
“Uh… well, no.”
“Well, I mean it isn’t easy. But how do you know if you haven’t tried?”
She shrugged. He had a point. A scary one. What if she should have tried? What if she was making a huge mistake with the accounting degree? Of course it couldn’t hurt to have something to fall back on… But what if it was all a huge waste of time?
Worse, if what he said were true, if she actually wanted to try… Mom would flip her shit. And Cass would probably show up at her apartment and refuse to leave until she’d talked some sense into her little sister.
“I do like math,” she muttered.
“There’s a fair share of math in photography too.” Had he leaned closer while she was staring at her tea, or was that wishful thinking?
She sat quietly for a moment, rocking the nearly empty teacup. “I don’t even know how you would do that.”
“Do what?”
“Make money with art.”
“I only know about photography. Unfortunately, you can’t paint weddings. Although some people do portraits at them, don’t they?” He raised his eyebrows hopefully.
She shook her head in an emphatic no. Only if they wanted portraits that turned them into fairies and princesses and knights. And took hours.
“But my friend is a freelancer. Does commissions. I could send you her email.”
“Really?” She grabbed his upper arm in excitement, and his eyes locked on her grip. She snatched her hand back, not having meant to invade his space. “Sorry. I mean, that would be… amazing. Yes, please!”
He stared back without reacting for a second too long, and she had no idea what she’d said to cause that, but eventually he nodded. He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Give me your email?” He handed it to her, notepad open. “Or, er, I can text you if you want.”
She typed both her email and phone into the note, making absolutely certain to make no errors. She checked them a third time before handing the phone back. Did that qualify as him getting her digits? No, no, he was just doing her a favor. A professional one, at that.
He cleared his throat as he put the phone back in his pocket, but he was smiling wider now, and when he settled, he was even closer. Their shoulders were nearly brushing. “Shoot, where did we leave the brownies? I still need to have some after this.”
“I left them on the desk.”
“Bob may have eaten them all then. Maybe that was why he was skipping the late-night ice cream social.”
Penny snorted. “I can make you some more if he does.”
“
Really?”
“Yeah, they’re easy.”
“Promise?”
She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Promise. But I wish I had half the social lives they do.”
“Well, that would leave you less time for baking brownies. And spontaneous vegan dinners.”
“True, true.” She smiled. “Did you have a hard time getting over here?”
He shook his head. “The highways were pretty clear. Just my driveway was a lot of work. I thought I might miss the whole thing. Every time I got half of it clear, it felt like the other side filled back in.”
“Something I don’t miss about having a car. Not that walking or taking the bus in the snow is much better.”
“Getting anywhere in the snow is always a pain, whatever your mode of transportation. Although I suppose I haven’t tried dogsled.”
“It’s nicer to stay in. Cozy.”
His warm brown eyes met hers with a surprising intensity. “Yeah, it is. And yet we’re both here.”
She snorted, glancing around at the restaurant that looked emptier by the minute. “One of the few, the proud, the brave.”
The desperate?
He opened his mouth to answer, but before he could, he frowned and reached for his pocket. “It’s Bob,” he said. “Speak of the devil. Maybe he found my keys.”
She stared out the front restaurant window as he and Bob talked, trying to give them privacy. The snow continued to fall heavily, dancing white under the glow of the streetlights, contrasting with the cozy darkness of the restaurant.
“Are you serious? Crap.” He glanced at her, covering the mic for a second. “He says he can’t find them.” He went back and listened again. “Not anywhere? Did you look under that couch? Maybe someone kicked them.”
She took a deep breath. That snow was falling something serious. He’d have a hell of a time digging his car out a second time, and now later at night the roads might not be clear any longer. She tried not to think too hard and elbowed him softly.
“One sec, Bob. Yeah?” He covered the mic again.
“That’s really falling hard, Nick.”
He squinted out at the snow. “Damn.”
“Unless you brought a shovel with you, you may have trouble getting out even if he does find your keys.”
Nick frowned, then started to turn back to Bob.
“You could… stay with me if you like!” She winced as the words came out awkwardly loud.
Nick froze, and his eyes locked with hers, now even more intense than before. Heat raced through her. He didn’t say anything for a long moment. Maybe he was weirded out that she’d offered. Maybe he just wanted to be friends.
“I have a futon,” she added to see if that put him at ease.
Did his face fall? He turned back to Bob and the phone, and she averted her eyes back to the window. “Were they under the couch?” He sighed. “Ah, well. Hey, Penny says she has a futon I could stay on. Probably safer than driving anyway, right? And then you can get to the ice cream social.” There was a pause. “What? You already went? You sure looked for those keys hard. You what? Damn it, Uncle Bob.” Nick shook his head. “All right. Oh, they are? All right. I’ll stop by in the morning, and hopefully I can find them then. Good night.”
She turned back to him, but he was still fiddling with the phone, jamming in a text to someone. For a moment she thought she saw Ashley’s name fly past in his texts, and a small jolt of fear went through her. Did they still talk? Maybe he still liked her. Maybe he was still with her. No, no, Nick wasn’t the kind of guy to ask a girl on a date if he had a girlfriend. But then, with Ashley’s revolving-door policy, maybe there was more nuance or flexibility to the situation than Penny understood.
What was she getting herself into?
If anything?
She knew he’d dated Ashley. On and off for a while. Mostly she’d seen pictures on Facebook, and she’d spotted him at their apartment occasionally back in the day. But he hadn’t noticed her then. Or even seen her.
But she’d noticed him. He’d always seemed like the one that least belonged with Ash. The one Penny was most jealous of, frankly. The one of Ash’s conquests that Penny most wished she could steal away and protect from the inevitable hurt that Ashley inflicted on pretty much everyone around her. Lord knew it had taken Penny long enough to recognize that, and even longer to extricate herself from it.
How long had it taken him?
She wasn’t going to bring up Ashley, though. Not tonight. Not with the insane way this night was going. In fact, she banished thoughts of her former roommate from her mind.
“Sorry.” He jammed his phone back into his pocket without explanation. Not that he owed her one. “So Bob says they’re locking up early, cause of all the snow. So no bingo until eleven tonight, and we are being separated from our brownies. Oh, shit, and your bag. Is that okay? We could run back there now.”
She waved it off. “It’s just pencils. I can get it tomorrow. And make more brownies too.”
“That sounds like a decadent breakfast.”
She grinned. “Or you could stick around for lunch?”
His eyes widened, and she realized she might have implied more than she intended with that phrasing. She ducked her head. Of course, she’d love for him to stick around for dinner and the rest of the week and month and maybe never leave. At least it wasn’t inaccurate. But she was probably way past freaking him out now.
Their food came, thankfully saving them for a moment. The burger was heavenly, and she devoured half of it before even coming up for air.
Huh. That silence hadn’t been so awkward. Or had she just not noticed it?
“We could watch a movie, if you want,” she said between stuffing fries in her face. No, she wasn’t nervous eating. Not at all. “It’s still pretty early.”
“Sure.”
“I just moved in, so my place is still kind of a mess. Have my TV and futon set up, though.”
He nodded. “Do you like the place?”
“Quieter than my last place!” She grinned, mostly to herself this time. “But yeah, it seems nice so far. And I have the top-floor apartment, so nobody stomping around above me while I’m trying to do homework.” Or pounding the headboard against my wall while I’m trying to sleep.
He smiled. “That must be nice. When do you graduate?”
“Next year. It’s an accelerated five-year program.”
“Fancy.”
She shrugged. “Not really. But if I take my certifications after I graduate, I’ll be able to do a number on your taxes.”
He glanced at her and smiled crookedly. “You don’t seem like a typical accountant. Will you have a pink calculator?”
She narrowed her eyes and stuck out her tongue before she could think better of it. “My calculator is sky blue, thank you very much.”
He laughed. A nice sound, warm and sincere.
“It might have a pink bow. And a face I put on with stickers.”
“Maybe you should work for the IRS, then. You’re going to scare the shit out of people.”
She shook her head. “Probably ’cause they won’t think I’ll be able to do their taxes with a calculator like that.”
“Well, can you? I’m sure you can. So you can laugh in their faces.”
“We use computers for these things most of the time, Nick.”
He grinned and took another bite of his sandwich. “You sure it’s okay I crash with you?”
She nodded, not meeting his eyes. “Not like you have anywhere else to go at this point.”
“Still, it’s very considerate of you. I guess maybe I shouldn’t have gone out in this weather after all.”
Penny shrugged again. “Oh, I don’t know. It seems like it’s working out all right to me.” She dared a glance up and found him staring at her. Those eyes were going to bore into her soul, at this rate. She looked back down and took another huge bite of her burger so she had an excuse not to say anything further.
He laughed
softly. “I think you may be right.”
Chapter 4
Nick could hardly believe he was following Penny to her apartment. Sometimes the dice hate you, but sometimes you get lucky. Dare he hope literally? Well, it remained to be seen if either of them were getting lucky tonight. Try as he might, he hadn’t been able to swing the dinner solidly into date territory, and he was still not sure if this whole futon thing was simply her being hospitable.
Fortunately, he had at least a two-hour movie to figure it out.
That afternoon, he hadn’t even known if she had some neurosurgeon boyfriend waiting to beat him up for glancing at her. And wishing he was curled up with her by a fire. Oh, and fantasizing about her too. Now, at least, it appeared she didn’t have a boyfriend.
He hoped.
They were quiet for the short walk back, and although he had more to ask her, he was nervous too. Maybe he should have taken another shower after shoveling all that snow. Maybe he should have shaved better. Maybe he should have tried harder to get any details about boyfriends present and past who he might be compared against. Even if Bob was right, and Penny did have an interest in him, it couldn’t be as strong as his was. He’d never liked a girl so much, for so long, without even talking to her. This had to be some kind of record for long-delayed courtships.
The elevator up to the ninth floor was a quick ride, and she opened her door to apartment 914. Slate-gray carpet, cardboard boxes, and bare white walls were everywhere—she wasn’t kidding when she said she hadn’t unpacked much. But a Monet and a Van Gogh caught his eye, as well as a bustling fantasy city above the futon.
“Wow, that’s nice,” he said, approaching to take a closer look. “Good size too.”
“Thanks. Um, I’m going to use the restroom. Be right back.”
“Okay.”
He pulled out his phone and checked to see if Mom had responded. A friend’s house? Whose? came the first text. You better be being safe, Nicholas Jacob Markov! said another. If you’re dead, I’ll kill you!
He shook his head. I am fine, Mom.
Bad Game_A Geeky New Adult Romance Page 4
