by A. J. Pine
Zoe climbs up on a stool and reaches across the bar. She gives one of Spock’s fake ears a playful flick.
“Those,” she says, hopping down from the stool, “are just for fun.”
“I’m still confused,” I say. “You were out with me last night. I came to your room when we got home, and you were alone. Where did Spock come from?”
His smile doesn’t falter, but Zoe’s does, only for a second before it’s back on display. Something’s off, but this obviously isn’t the time to ask her. I’m in a pretty off situation of my own at the moment.
“Spock and I met at the convention last weekend. He goes to Madison. His band had a gig in town last night, and I offered him a place to crash instead of in his tour van.”
“Have you guys even slept yet?”
I flush with embarrassment at my unintended innuendo.
Zoe laughs, and this time it’s Spock’s expression that shutters.
“Despite what it looks like, roomie, it’s not what you think. We’re friends. And no, we haven’t slept yet.”
I nod at the sound of that word, friends. Like Adam and I are just friends?
“I’m skipping class today so we can get some sleep . . . after eggs, of course.”
Spock chimes in. “My buddies want to stay the weekend and party. That’s not my scene, so your roommate was kind enough to offer some party-free shelter. I can pay you in scrambled eggs if you want.” He flashes that dimple again, and I find it hard to believe any girl wouldn’t want more from a guy who looks like that and cooks breakfast, but I don’t pretend to know what Zoe wants. I just appreciate too well what it’s like to spend a platonic night with someone I wish I could give more to . . . get more from.
“Hey!” Zoe says, clapping her hands together. “Why don’t we all get Yu’s tonight and watch sexy vampires?”
Sexy vampires. Shit. Adam.
As if on cue, he steps out of my room, his jeans back on over his shorts.
“I should get going. We need to catch the bus in a couple of hours.”
His hollow voice guts me. All I wanted to do was keep either of us from getting hurt. That’s why I said friends. Just friends. But I can’t even stick to my own rules, can’t help myself from wanting what I can’t have.
Adam walks past me and Zoe without another word, without any sort of introduction to Spock. He keeps moving, right out the door, and I feel sick.
“I’m sorry. I’ll be right back.”
I run after him, but he hasn’t left yet. He stands in front me, his hands bracing the half wall that looks out onto the cement courtyard below.
“Adam,” I say, relieved to find him but having no clue what to say other than his name.
“What, Jess?”
He doesn’t turn around, and I don’t answer. I have no answer.
“That’s what I thought,” he says. “I’ll see you later.”
He pushes off the wall and starts walking toward the stairwell.
“Adam, wait!”
It’s not fair to stall him for my selfish need to feel better, but it’s my only motivation.
When he turns to face me, I ache at his look. Even when he was telling me about his ex and Jake, there was still that hint of the hope in his eyes. But I took that away. I can see it now, and anything I say will twist the knife deeper into the wound.
“I don’t want you to leave like this.”
He shakes his head and laughs bitterly.
“How do you want me to leave? Are we friends? More than friends? Neither? Because it can’t be both, and you can’t jerk me around between the two.”
My eyes burn, and anger takes over.
“I’m not jerking you around. You knew I couldn’t give you anything more than friendship.” But I realize my words and my actions don’t line up.
In two long strides he stands in front of me, close enough that I can breathe him in amidst the cool morning smell of leaves and impending rain. I retreat a few paces, clearing my senses.
He runs both hands through his hair, clasping them behind his neck.
“Then why kiss me? What do you want?”
“I don’t know.”
This, whatever is happening between us, it’s my fault. I said friends, and then I kissed him. I kissed him like I’ve never kissed any other guy, and there’s no way he didn’t feel what I felt. Kisses like that aren’t one-sided.
“I messed up,” I say, willing him to understand it’s not the kiss I regret.
He drops his hands and shoves them in his front pockets.
“Figure your shit out, Jess.”
He turns back toward the exit, and I let him go, waiting and watching as the stairwell door slams behind him.
He doesn’t deserve this, not after what he told me about Jake. Hell, even if he didn’t tell me, I never should have kissed him. But I know it’s because he opened up to me that I did. I couldn’t give him that same honesty, so I gave him false hope.
When I get back inside, Zoe and Spock sit on the couch, enjoying their eggs.
“You okay?” she asks as I walk past them to my bedroom door.
I shake my head but force a smile.
“I fucked up,” I say. “Seems to be a talent of mine lately.”
She puts her plate on the table and walks to where I stand. Then she hugs me, tight, and I sink into her embrace.
“He cares about you,” she whispers in my ear.
“I know.” That’s the problem.
“Do you care about him?”
“Of course I do.”
Zoe releases me and pushes me an arm’s distance, her hands firm on my shoulders.
“Then un-fuck it up. Maybe you have a talent for that too.”
I smile at her, grateful that I can.
Zoe saunters back to the couch, plopping down and nudging Spock’s shoulder with her own.
“Should I expect any other sci-fi friends to be joining us today? Maybe a Stormtrooper or something?” I ask.
Zoe giggles and turns to the boy with pointed ears, raising her eyebrows.
“A Stormtrooper and Dr. Spock at the same time?” Her grin is a wicked one. “We may have to change our rules for that panty fantasy.”
“Oh my god, Zoe!” I shriek. “You did not just say that!”
I laugh easily now, thanks to Zoe.
Spock throws his head back and laughs too. “Is it a chick in the Stormtrooper costume?” he asks. “Because you’re right. That could be a game changer.”
I back away and don’t let them see the change but wait until I’m safe in my room to let the curtain close on my short-lived relief.
My phone vibrates with a text, and my stomach twists with both hope and dread. But the name attached to the message is one I don’t expect. Ashley.
We need to talk. About everything.
I delete it and throw my phone on the floor.
No classes and no PT clients today.
With my shades pulled and the lights out, I burrow back into bed, wrapping my arms around the pillow that still smells like him.
And I sleep.
13
“Je-ess.”
Someone sings my name in two syllables.
“Wake up, Jess.”
I throw the blanket over my head and will her to leave the room.
A paper bag unfolds, and I recognize the warm aroma. Cinnamon. Damn her. She brought me a freaking Cinnabon. My growling stomach betrays my need to continue wallowing.
“What time is it?” I croak from under the covers.
“It’s eight, in the morning, in case you were wondering. I’m worried about you, Jess. Do you know how many times I came in here yesterday to make sure you were still breathing? I was getting close to calling your mom.”
I shimmy up so my head peeks out from the duvet.
“You didn’t, did you?” The last thing I need is my mom thinking I’ve relapsed. We need to rethink this “In case of emergency” phone-number sharing.
“No. Don’t worry.�
� She must sense the desperation in my question because there’s a sort of soothing in her voice.
“I’m sorry,” I say, calming down.
“You’re not freaked out you slept through an entire day?”
I laugh, knowing my reaction is not at all appropriate. When the grief wins out over the dreams, my body makes up for lost sleep.
“This isn’t exactly a first-time occurrence for me. I really am sorry, though. I feel like I should start my conversations with an apology from now on.”
Zoe’s smile is full of relief. “You might be onto something.”
She rips the covers the rest of the way off and pulls me by my limp arm. I reach for the bag in her hand, but she snatches it away.
“Uh-uh. You need to get your messed-up ass out of bed and rejoin the living if you want to feast on a thousand calories of butter, cinnamon, and sugar.”
I follow her out to the living room because I really, really do want to eat every last morsel of that roll.
Zoe’s bathroom door is shut, and I hear the shower running.
“Spock?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
I grab the bag from her hand and perch on one of the bar stools. I reach inside and tear off a piece of sticky, sweet sustenance and pop it in my mouth. Holy shit, I’m hungry.
“So you guys are really just friends?”
She sits next to me.
“Yeah. I mean, there’s an attraction. We almost kissed, like twice. But he’s graduating in January and taking six months to travel with the band before he has to do the whole adult thing and get a ‘real job.’” She air quotes the last two words. “That’s according to his parents. Anyway, it doesn’t make any sense, you know, to start something with someone who’s leaving. And I don’t do the casual sex thing.”
She taps her Superman barbell against her teeth, but when her eyes meet mine, she shakes her head.
“Jess, I didn’t mean anything . . . I wasn’t talking about you. Shit.”
I press my lips together, forcing a smile. She didn’t mean me in particular, but she meant she wouldn’t do what I do . . . what I did before meeting Adam.
“It’s okay. I wasn’t always . . .”
Fuck. I could tell her. I could tell her and lessen the weight that keeps pressing down. Then she’ll see why I don’t have a choice. But I chicken out, changing the subject instead.
“He seems great,” I tell her instead. “I mean, I’ve only seen him half naked with Spock ears cooking in our kitchen, but that’s all good in my book. Maybe . . . after you graduate?”
I reach for more of the cinnamon roll, and Zoe nicks the next bite from my hand, popping it in her mouth.
She shrugs. “I’m not going to push it, not if it means we’ll stop hanging out because I made it get all weird. I like being with him, and I know what I’m doing, Jess. The question is, what the hell are you doing?”
This time I shrug because I don’t have an answer, not even for myself.
“Why does it have to be so difficult for you? I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but a gorgeous, vampire-watching basketball player is clearly smitten with you, and I’m pretty sure you kicked him to the curb and then slept for nearly a day because of it.”
I clutch the bag to my chest, protecting what’s left of the roll.
“Am I that transparent?”
My pout morphs into a small smile at the thought of Adam.
“When does he come back?”
“The game is tonight. So, probably tomorrow.”
Zoe walks to the calendar and scribbles a note on tomorrow’s date. When she caps the Sharpie and steps away, I read: Fix shit with Sexy Vampire Boy.
“What if I can’t?” I ask. “He said I was jerking him around, and he’s right.”
Zoe rests on her elbows on top of the counter, looking at me over the bar.
“Tell him why.”
“I can’t.”
“Tell me.”
“Okay.” The answer comes out automatically, and I finally get what’s happening. Zoe and I are friends, like real friends. What I’ve missed for so long—what I lost with Ashley—she is willing to give to me even though I’m so out of practice.
Zoe straightens with a start.
“For reals? I’m not trying to pressure you, but I want to help you get through whatever this is.”
I let out a long breath, relief washing over me because I can tell her this. I can tell her and not lose her.
“I’m sure,” I say. “When the weekend’s over, when Spock goes back to Madison, we can talk.”
I look toward her bathroom door. “Spock sure likes his showers, doesn’t he?”
She laughs. “Not a lot of hot water in a tour van.”
I pop the last piece of the Cinnabon in my mouth and crumple the bag before playfully chucking it at her face.
“I’m gonna get the hell out of here, give you two some privacy. You know, just in case. I mean, what happens while I’m gone is none of my business.”
Zoe rolls her eyes. “Don’t push it, Elliott. We’re. Just. Friends. Speaking of which, we’re hanging tonight, okay? I’m not going to let you watch the game alone.”
She’s halfway through her bedroom door when she pulls off her shirt and starts lowering her pants, and I look away until the door clicks shut. How does she do it, stride through life with such unabashed confidence about her body, her relationships, her refusal to drink? Maybe I can absorb some of her mojo just by being in her presence.
Back in my room, I gather my books to head to the union to study. I have plenty to keep me busy for the day before my workout. If I go. When I find my phone on the floor, I remember why it ended up there yesterday morning. Five texts glare at me, all from Ashley, all imploring me to get back to her. I scroll through my earlier messages and find the only one I want to reply to. I click on Sexy Vampire and type: Good luck tonight.
I don’t expect a response and don’t get one. But at least he knows. It may be sending mixed signals, but the one thing I don’t want him to question is my caring about him. Because I do. I care enough to be his friend, and I care enough to let him go if it means I won’t hurt him. I wish there were an option number three.
Though I could stand a shower myself, I opt not to wait for Spock to deplete the hot water supply. I change into jeans, a T-shirt, and a hoodie, pulling my wallet from my purse and throwing it into my backpack. Just in case, I throw my workout clothes in there too. As I tuck my phone into my pocket, another text comes through.
Sexy Vampire: Thanks.
***
Tracy can tell I’m not myself in class. Last week, when Adam found out I was switching to peds, I had so much pent-up emotion to get out . . . or tuck back into its hiding spot. Despite my nearly twenty-four hours of sleep since yesterday, I’m drained, and after fifteen minutes of just going through the motions, she actually asks me to leave.
“You’re not mentally present today. Are you?”
I shake my head.
“Wanna tell me what’s up?”
I shake it again.
“Why don’t you call it a day, then? If you’re not focused, you’re going to hurt yourself.”
I nod. “Okay.” Then I pull off my gloves. Tracy takes them from me so I don’t have to walk to the cabinet.
“You going to have your head in the game tonight?”
Tracy’s question is almost an accusation, as if she thinks I’d flake on Adam’s first game back. It’s also a clear sign she knows what’s going on with me has something to do with him.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” is all I say before heading for the door without saying good-bye to Tracy or the rest of the class.
“Jess!” Zach leaves his bag and meets me at the door. “You need a ride? Wait a few, and I can drive you. Been meaning to pop in and see my sister this weekend.”
This makes me smile because there’s no way Zach knows Zoe’s been platonically shacking up all weekend with the boy she met only a week ago. Then again, they w
ere at the convention together, and they are twins. Maybe they have that weird sixth sense with each other. Or maybe she tells him everything. All I know is I’m not going to be the one to blow her cover if there is a cover to be blown.
“Thanks, Zach. I think I’d like to walk. And I don’t think Zoe’s home right now. Maybe text her before you come?”
I start to back out the door, but Zach’s grin makes me hesitate.
“Is she really out, or is she otherwise occupied with . . .” He shudders. “. . . a dude with the same name as me?”
I laugh. “You know about Spock?”
“Spock?”
“Yeah, we don’t call him Zach.” He shudders again. “For obvious reasons.”
“What are these obvious reasons?” He pauses a second and then adds, “Wait. Don’t answer that.”
“Just call your sister,” I say. “But if it makes you feel any better, I keep getting the just friends line from her.” I laugh again. It must be in their genes. Zoe and Zach both bring the smile out in me.
He rubs his eyes and sighs. “See ya, Jess.”
“Bye, Zach.”
***
I stop at Yu’s on the way home after texting Zoe I’ll bring dinner for the game. I also warn her she has some explaining to do the next time she talks to her brother. It’s hard to believe she and Zach/Spock want to stay home and watch the game. We’re playing Wisconsin, Spock’s university. They could go somewhere much more exciting than our living room, but I know she won’t let me watch alone, not after I took sleeping in to a whole new level. I look at Zoe’s text with her order, knowing a bulk of it is for Spock. The boy can eat.
I laugh when the man behind the counter hands me two ridiculously large brown paper bags. As I maneuver out the door, I think how nice handles would be on said bags instead of hugging them to my chest. It’s because of my obscured vision I don’t see someone walking in while I’m walking out, and I plow right into the entering patron, dropping both bags on the ground.
I’m already crouched on the floor salvaging my dinner when I hear the familiar voice.
“Oh my god! I’m so sorry!”
I look up at Ashley, and my first reaction is to scan the circumference of the area surrounding her, but Bryan’s not here. It’s just her.
“Jess!”
She doesn’t look as surprised as she’s trying to sound.
