The tension in my chest eased. Just a little.
She picked up her sandwich, took a bite, and raised an eyebrow at me. "You drove all the way here just to tell me to be careful?"
"Maybe I also wanted to see you."
"You saw me four days ago."
"Four days is a long time."
She laughed, shaking her head, but I caught the flush creeping up her neck. The way her eyes lingered on my face a moment longer than necessary.
My fingers twitched at my sides. I wanted to close the distance between us. Tangle my hands in her hair. Find out if she tasted as good as I imagined.
Instead, I pushed off the desk and headed for the door.
"I'll see you tomorrow night?" I asked.
"Zoe has a project due on Friday. I promised I'd help her with it.”
“I'll bring pizza."
"You don't have to?—"
"I know." I paused at the door and looked back at her. "I want to."
Her smile was soft. Real. The kind that made me want to be worthy of it.
"See you tomorrow, Shane."
I walked out of that school with the smell of smoke still lingering in my memory and the taste of fear still sitting cold in my stomach.
But underneath it, something else. Something warmer. Unexpected.
Hope.
That next evening, I showed up at Maya’s with two pizzas and a six-pack of root beer in my hands.
Zoe answered the door, took one look at the boxes, and stepped aside. "Pepperoni?"
"Half pepperoni, half supreme."
"Supreme has olives."
"I'll eat the olives."
She considered this, then nodded. "Acceptable."
Maya was at the kitchen table, surrounded by what looked like an entire solar system.
Styrofoam balls in various sizes. Paint bottles. Glitter. So much glitter. She had a smear of blue on her cheek and a slightlymanic look in her eyes that said she was one mishap away from losing it.
"Don't ask," she said before I could say anything.
"I wasn't going to." I set the pizzas on the counter. "Looks like you've got it under control."
"That's a generous interpretation."
Zoe grabbed a slice of pepperoni and returned to her spot at the table, where she was carefully painting a tiny Styrofoam ball a rusty red. Mars, I assumed. She worked with the same focused intensity I’d seen in Maya when she graded papers. The same furrow between their brows.
