“Tape.”
Amie dutifully ripped off a piece of tape and passed it over.
“Why don’t you ask her if she wants to get dinner tonight?” David suggested, working to unstick the tape from his fingers.
“No, no no no,” Amie said, shaking her head. “That’s too soon.”
“Why?”
“Because,” Amie explained, “it’s too eager. I don’t want her to think I’m trying to get back together with her.”
“That’s ridiculous,” David said flatly. “Who’d ever assume that?”
Amie chose not to respond to the clearly sarcastic comment. “Besides, she’s busy tonight. She’s going to the opening of some jazz-funk club because Lil Screw might be there.”
“Who?” David asked, holding his hand out for another piece of tape.
“He’s a rapper.” Amie ripped off another piece and stuck it to his outstretched hand. “She doesn’t really like him, or jazz, but …”
“That’s Ziya,” David said, finishing her sentence. “Always doing something.”
“Yeah.” Amie was quiet for a moment. “It’s strange to know her so well.”
“What do you mean?”
Amie spoke slowly as thoughts that had been lurking in the depths of her brain floated up to the surface. “It’s just strange that you can build a relationship with someone, get to know them intimately, and feel like no one in the world knows you as well as they do. And then you break up, and then there’s just this person who you spent so much time getting to know, and now you have to live your life with that person out there who you know so well but can’t be with because you’ve ended that relationship.”
Amie sucked in a deep breath, looking at David expectantly. David, in turn, was staring back at her, eyebrows raised.
“Was there a question in there?”
Amie flexed her fingers, as if trying to physically hold the question as she struggled to compose it. “How can you feel so close to a person, know them so well, and just … be friends?”
David returned to taping the ramp. “I think you know me pretty well,” he said. “And we’re just friends.”
“Yeah, but I don’t want to kiss you on the mouth.”
“Aha!” David pointed a section of the ramp at her. “So you admit that you still have feelings for Ziya!”
“Ughhhh,” Amie said in response, falling back to lie on the floor. “And I don’t know youthatwell. I still don’t know the titles of any of your books.”
“I can’t believe Ziya let that slip,” David grumbled, retrieving the duct tape from the supine Amie.
“Why don’t you want me to read them?” Amie asked, turning her head to look at him. “They can’t be that bad.”
“No,” David acquiesced. “They’re fine. I just don’t particularly care for them. I’m sure you wouldn’t either, but I knew you’d think you were being supportive by reading them. I didn’t want you to waste your time.”
“Too bad you didn’t tell me on Monday,” Amie said wryly. “I had a good amount of free time on my hands. Can’t tell you how many times a librarian watched me pick up a book and start reading it from the middle.”
“Ha.”
“I might enjoy them.” Amie propped herself up on her forearm. “If they’re bestsellers, that must mean a lot of people like them.”
“You sound like my editor.” David finished taping the last section of the track, crawling out from under the table. “She keeps asking me to write another one.”
“How have we never talked about this?” Amie asked in disbelief. “Do I talk about my own issues too much?”
“No, no.” She heard him rummaging through a box on top of the table. “I don’t like to talk about it. I already know what you’d say.”
