To his credit, he doesn’t respond. He turns my way, studies my face, possibly recognizes the panic that has me in its grips.
“I think, maybe—Devon will want to talk about that,” he answers.
Good, Jeff. Good answer. We’ll talk—about that.
It is the perfect response. I force myself to smile and hope I don’t look as crazy as I feel. Be calm and eat more squash. Everything is fine. I’m fine. Just got caught up in the moment, that’s all. Squash is obviously an aphrodisiac.
I let out a deep, cleansing breath and pull my shit together.
I am so not in love with Jeff.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Jeff
Lesson 38: Some things are worth waiting for.
I’m in love with Devon.
But that’s not what scares me. She’s curled up in fetal position beside me, the hem of her t-shirt hitched up above her navel so that I can see the way her stomach falls and rises with every breath. It’s one of those rare times when she’s not snoring, and it makes every thought in my head too loud to ignore. I need to talk to her—see if she might be in the same boat as me. Shit, I’d take the same ocean at this point.
There’s a lot to sort through here even if she feels how I feel. I have six months left in this fellowship—six months until I return home for good to start my career and do what I set out to do. But the thought of broaching this topic with her makes my pulse skyrocket. She’s like a feral cat that has started to come around—rubbing against my leg, maybe even letting me scratch behindher ears. But I know the second I start talking about feelings and a future, there’s a large chance she’s gonna bolt back out into the woods.
One of Devon’s eyes opens slowly, and she blinks fast against the streak of light sneaking in between the blinds. She wrinkles her nose and turns her face into the pillow.
“It’s so creepy when you watch me sleep.” Her voice is muffled but I can hear her smile.
“Is it?”
“Yeah. It is.” She turns back toward me and I touch her cheek. There’s a line there from how she slept on the pillow. “It makes me think you’re planning to make a skin-suit out of me.”
I laugh and trail my finger down her neck.
“You do have nice skin.”
“If I wake up to you moisturizing me, I’m done,” she says.
“I’ll have to be more careful.” I pull her closer, but she giggles and squirms away, sliding down beneath the comforter. I watch the lump move toward the foot of the bed and then disappear when Devon empties onto the ground with a thump.
“You alright down there?”
She pops up.
“All good,” she says.
I focus on her bare legs stretching from beneath the tee she’s stolen from me. She claims she’s had it since she was sixteen, even has a story about Tara finding it at Macy’s in a nearby mall that has since been leveled for business offices. She has similar stories for two of my hoodies and half of my store of scrubs. Apparently, her mall had a scrub supply store called “Doctor Duds.” The creative effort involved in her lies is disturbingly impressive.
She makes her way into the bathroom and reappears with the toothbrush she’s claimed as her own hanging out the side of her mouth. She talks through the foam on her teeth and tongue.
“Before I come back there and you distract me with your hands,” she starts, shifting the toothbrush to the other side of her mouth. “We have some things to discuss.”
I nod and sit up against the headboard to give her my full attention. This is my chance to come clean—to tell her how I’m feeling and hope she doesn’t scratch my cheek, hiss and run. I watch her retreat back to the sink. She spits, rinses, and reappears with her best attempt at a serious face. And I’m suddenly more nervous than my first sitting for the Boards.
“Item one,” she begins. “I know that you and my mother have been texting.”
I let my face go blank. Pretend not to know what she’s talking about.
“I know this because every time I catch her texting you, she tells me to mind my business and I’m fairly certain that there is nothing in this world that’s more ‘my business’ than my mom and my boyfriend. You two think you’re so sneaky, but you should know that I’m totally fine with?—”
