“Let me do something with this car crash,” she mutters, gesturing at her tangled hair. I tilt my head at her.
“I think it’s kind of cute,” I say, and her eyes widen at me as a flush climbs up into her cheeks. It settles something down inside me.
“You’re not funny, James Royce,” she says and stalks past me into the bathroom.
I try not to look at her ass in her leggings as she disappears and fail. What am I doing? Sadieworkswith me. I’ve never so much as looked at another woman: it’s like … it’s like … Like I’ve been holding my breath for years and only just realized. Losing Jane was like losing the only future I ever envisioned for myself, but for the first time in a long time, I’m not feeling good exactly, but better—like I’ve taken a single, shaky inhale after a lifetime underwater.
Chapter 18
Sadie
Istare at myself in the mirror.
The girl’s code shoots fire out of her hands
at the boy for calling her bird’s-nest hair cute.
James Royce admired something about me, admired myhair, when I look like a hamster in a high wind. My eyes drop from the mess on my head to my pink face. I curl my hands into fists. I can still feel the muscles in his back under my fingers when he hugged me.A friendly hug, Sadie. Stop hyperventilating.You’ve got bigger fish to fry than James Royce and his long legs and unexpected compliments. Cycling? Getting on a bike? My stomach does a weird loop the loop. I won’t be able to balance. I close my eyes, stick my arms out to the side, and lift one leg. In half a beat, I put it down again.Nope.God, doing this with James … Ever since I moved in, all he has to do is look at me with those deep-blue eyes and all my secrets spill out.
I grab my brush and yank it through my hair. I never wear fitted clothes. My chest is too large; my legs are too big at the top and too narrow at the bottom … Ugh. Once I’ve straightened the chaos on my head out, I clean my teeth and stomp out into the living room: James is sitting at the kitchen island, looking at something on his phone.
“Will this do?” I say, scowling, as I look down at myself.
“It looks great, Sadie,” he says softly. “And if you don’t like the cycling, we can leave and go get some more banana chocolate loaf. How’s that for an incentive?”
That goddamn banana chocolate loaf. I dream about it. Dream about James and me cooking together and our eyes meeting over sponge cakes. It’s stupid. A smart guy like James Royce might compliment me and be kind to me, but I’m the girl who has no qualifications and no chance with a guy like James Royce.
He stands and steps forward, squeezing my hand. “Think of it as another first, Sadie. Failure is fine. No judgment from me. Okay?”
“What are you going to do while I cycle? Or fall off, more likely,” I mutter.
“I thought I might read my book.” He winks at me.
Where is Mr. Morose this morning? I think he’s been missing for a few days now; like the coffee with Jane, the drinking, and the hug all shifted something. I guess I should take that as a win. But I am not prepared for him being cute. I roll my eyes. “Okay, okay. Let’s just get it over with.”
“Go and put your sneakers on, and I thought you could wear this.” He holds out a cycling jacket. It looks very fancy.
“Whoa, whoa. They’ll think I’m some expert in that. What happens if I fall off and rip it? I bet it cost like over a hundred dollars.”And you’d have to be insane to pay that, I don’t add. But as he shifts on his feet, my face heats. His expression tells me that it cost a lot more than a hundred dollars. I run my tongue over my teeth.
“Five hundred?” I say, and he won’t meet my eyes.
“Try three,” he says.
“Oh,Jesus.”
“That’s not even that expensive in the cycling world,” he adds, and I gawk at him. “Please, Sadie, it will protect you and …”
“I’ll get my own jacket,” I mutter and disappear into the bedroom again.
I’m terrified of falling off. So I tell him that on the way, and he says, if I need him to, he’ll run along behind me and keep me upright. My face heatsagain at the very idea, but it’s possibly less embarrassing and less painful than wiping out in front of a boatload of strangers.
When we arrive at the cycling center, my chest eases a bit as everyone asks obvious questions and looks like this is the last place on earth they want to be on a Saturday morning. But people are dressed in jackets remarkably like the one James offered me, and I kick myself for not taking him up on his offer. Also, no one asks the obvious question: How the fuck do you balance on this thing?
The instructor goes through the features of the bikes we’re using for the class in detail, then gets everyone measured and on the right size of bike. It takes a while to deal with us all, as he runs through the correct way to sit and pedal. He shows us how to push off and balance and tells us not to worry if we can’t do it the first or even tenth time. He says we’ve loads of time to practice, and the trick is to keep trying and not to panic. That’s easy for him to say. James stands there staring at me earnestly with soft blue eyes, and I wish to God he wouldn’t look at me like that. It makes my insides go funny.
“Why are you here, at a riding class for a grown-ass woman, when you could be doing something important like taking apart a new Samsung phone?” I say.
“You think taking a phone apart is more interesting than this? I’m enjoying being here with you. It’s fun.”
