THE NEXT FEW DAYS ROLLby in pretty much the same way—when wedohappen to see each other, we barely talk. A growing sense of loneliness starts easing its way into the cracks, and by the time I get home from class on Thursday, I’m not feeling too good. This really is the worst week ever, and something tells me tomorrow will be the same.
I offered to cook Lane dinner on Friday because it’s my birthday. I wanted to stick to tradition and cook myself a special meal, just the way I used to do with Kirk back in the good old days. Sure, Lane isn’t Kirk—but at least I would be celebrating. I hope Lane hasn’t forgotten, but I know I need to remind him, just in case. I won’t tell him it’s my birthday, though; I don’t want him to know. I’ll say it’s just a thank-you for giving me a place to crash.
Speaking of which… I pry open my laptop and shoot off yet another email to the college dorm office. I feel good at Lane’s, but I really need a backup plan. Sooner or later, he’ll ask me to leave.
I find him more and more distant lately. Sullen, even. He goes to his room earlier than he used to, and when he does grace me with his presence, he seems distracted. I don’t make a big deal out of it. I don’t even mention it, but I’m scared my being there is annoying him more and more with each passing day. We got on so well, though, which is insane, when you consider how our friendship started. I don’t know.There’s something he isn’t telling me, and it’s driving me crazy. I’m not even the nosy type, but this boy’s got my head spinning with a thousand questions.
I slam a fist down on the coffee table with a groan.
“Okay, enough of that.”
I want to cook something good tomorrow night. Who knows? A decent home-cooked meal could even help lighten the mood. I spend the next half hour turning over my options, and once I have the perfect menu mapped out in my mind, I put on my sneakers and head out to stock up on groceries, wandering from aisle to aisle, checking off my list and filling up my cart as I go. I throw in the everyday stuff Lane picks up each week and grab some things for me.
By the time I get to the checkout, I realize I might have gone a little off the rails. There are five bags of groceries bursting at the seams. I stagger down the street for a few steps before collapsing on the first bench I see, whipping out my phone and logging on to the Campus Drivers app. I need a driver. I skip over Lane, since I know he’s spending the day with Carter. My gut nudges me toward Adam instead.
My phone buzzes.
Ride accepted.
“HEY, LOIS!” ADAM PULLS UPwith a smile. “I had to triple-check when I got your request. Just making sure I wasn’t dreaming.”
“I need a mule to get my groceries home.”
“Does Lane know you’re cheating on him?”
“He’s got work with Carter today; I don’t want to disturb him.”
“He would’ve come anyway, you know. But I’m glad you called me.”
“He’s been in a bad mood lately,” I say. “I don’t want to be a pain in the ass or anything.”
Adam looks at me thoughtfully, like he’s got something important to tell me, but he just nods.
“Sometimes people go through rough patches.” He shrugs. “But don’t worry. Thanksgiving will be a fun reset.”
On the way home, we chat about college and his communications course, and by the time we pull in, I’m almost disappointed the drive is over. I like him a lot, and I’m excited to get to know him better. It’s the first time I’ve ever felt this at ease around a guy. There’s no ambiguity between us, no mixed signals, and that feels good. Once we’ve tidied away the groceries, I offer him a drink.
“That’s sweet of you, but I should get going.”
“Let me know if you need help with Thanksgiving stuff,” I say, hugging him goodbye.
When the door slams shut behind him, I collapse onto the couch. I swear, Adam is magic. I feel so much better, like I’ve finally managed to shake myself out of my funk.
That night, I sleep like a baby, so sound and deep I have no idea whether Lane even comes home.
17LANE
I didn’t go to class this morning. I couldn’t bring myself to pretend like today was just some normal day. Today is the twelfth. Three years ago, my brother died in a motorcycle accident. The rest of the year, I just deal with it, but on this one day, I give myself permission to fall apart.
The front door creaks open, and Lois walks through just as I step into the living room.
“Did you skip class?” she asks quietly.
“Guilty as charged, Officer.”
I know my voice is flat, but I can’t help it. I pour myself a black coffee with one hand, dialing Carter with the other, watching as my roommate dumps her bag near the couch and joins me by the sink. I bring my phone to my ear and glance at her.
“Still okay for tonight?”
