Oswald’s features soften, and I realize his words were just a turn of phrase, not something deeper like I imagined, but something in my tone or words must have reflected how serious I was. “There’s just something about you, I like being around you,” he admits, and I feel like his confession is more authentic than he originally planned before I responded like I did.
“We both do,” comes from behind me.
A wide smile crosses Oswald’s features, and he reaches for the door handle of the truck. “Let’s eat. I’m starving.”
“You’re always starving,” Memphis grumbles indulgently, and just like that, the serious moment is gone.
As we walk toward a restaurant, I realize two things—one, I would probably let them take me anywhere, and two, I’m not going to be able to give them up, despite how unhealthy it is, no matter what I keep telling myself. They make me feel something, something other than crazy, which is the exact opposite of how I should feel, considering I think they make my symptoms worse.
RISKY
Memphis
Waylynn followsOz out of the truck, and I’m right behind them, but I can’t stop thinking about the way she sounded when she promised not to think Oswald was crazy when he was teasing her. It was a vow if I’ve ever heard one.
Oz pulls open the door to the dumpy diner we’ve been going to for years. It’s farther from school, but not nearly as busy as all the restaurants around campus, so it’s an even trade off.
“Have a seat. Someone will be right with you,” a woman calls as she passes us with a stained coffee pot. Waylynn hangs back, ensuring that we pick the table. There’s a big part of me that likes that she does little things like that, because it makes me feel like she trusts us.
I place my hand on the small of her back to guide her to a booth in the back corner. When I stop, she naturally slides in and scoots toward the wall. I hesitate for a moment. I want to sit next to her and feel the heat of her leg pressed against mine, but I really shouldn’t. I’m already crossing lines I shouldn’t with her being my student. Oz happily sits down next to her when I sit on the opposite side of the table.
Just like I did when we were in class, I can pretend I’m here with my brother, who I received permission to teach when Hilbrand’s original TA left for a different position two weeks before the class started, since he was already enrolled in the course. Not that I think anyone here would notice who we are, but I can’t get too comfortable.
I hand Waylynn a menu, and Oz reaches for one himself. I watch her eyes scan the plastic up and down before they lift and land on me. I don’t look away when she catches me watching her.
She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear and moves her gaze from mine. “What are you getting?”
A hard-on, I think, but I answer, “Country fried steak.” Waylynn’s eyes go really wide, and she dips her head a little more. I have no idea why the tops of her cheeks are slightly pink, but it looks good on her.
“Hot turkey sandwich,” Oswald says and pushes his menu away.
“What do you want?” I demand. Hell, that did not sound like I was asking about food.
“Um…”
I’ve noticed she stammers a little when she’s flustered.
“Anything sound good?” Oz leans closer to her, pretending to look at the menu.
“I like lasagna.” She makes it sound like a question. I scan the menu, noting the lack of Italian options, and decide to take her somewhere that will have it tomorrow. Shit, I probably won’t see her tomorrow. I don’t like that.
“You should have said that when I asked what you wanted earlier.” Oz bumps her shoulder playfully. “That’ll teach you to speak up.”
“Next time.” I level her with my stare. I’m already trying to figure out how to make sure next time is tomorrow.
The waitress makes her way over to us, setting the dishes she just cleared on the table behind us and grabbing a notepad from her apron. “Afternoon, what can I get ya?” Her question comes out perfunctory before she even looks up. I reach for the menus to hand her ours, prepared to tell her we need a few more minutes so Waylynn can decide, but the waitress says, “Gravlin,” softly, like she knows me, but I have no clue who she is. Oswald looks over and his eyes narrow. It’s not me she knows, it’s him.
“Hey,” he says really slowly. There’s not a lot of recognition going on. I hope this isn’t some chick he hooked up with. This could go bad quickly.
The girl licks her bottom lip, and her eyes dart to Waylynn briefly before she focuses back on my brother. “Hey, Oz, I haven’t seen you in a while.” Her voice is noticeably softer.
Oswald tilts his head to the side right before his eyes widen just a little. “Wait, you’re Jackson’s sister, right? How is he?”
The girl’s shoulders fall, as does the curl of her lips. “Right, Mickey. He’s doing okay. Going to Central.” Her voice is a little flat, but there’s still a gleam of hope in her eyes.
Waylynn keeps her eyes on the menu, shielding her face a little and seeming like she wants to disappear altogether, especially when she sinks lower in the seat.
“Have you decided yet?” I brush the tip of my finger along hers, which is curled around the menu, to get her attention.
