I hang onto the feeling for the rest of the night. We don’t stay for long, but when she subtly hints she wants to talk to some industry professionals to the right of the room, I encourage her. I follow happily and grit through the conversation one of them has with me about my father.
Before we leave, we run into Dr. Adebayo again. Their conversation is brief, but she tells Rosie she’d like to connect her to one of her colleagues. Says he didn’t have time to attend, but she’s sure he’d be interested in Rosie’s background.
I don’t know if it’s purposeful, but I watch as my roommate falls into the same posture as Dr. Adebayo. Her hands start to fold the same way, and her feet turn pointed and intentional.
She can see herself in this position twenty years from now. I can, too.
After explaining the plot ofSpy x Familyon the walk home, I realize this is the most talking I’ve ever done in one night. Albeit, almost all of it was to one person, but that’s what makes it significant to me.
I can’t say I’m entirely comfortable with Rosie yet but having her recognize me as Grant’s brother and not Keller’s son has effectively switched something on. Trust.
Trust that if anyone will get to know me, beyond being a successful businessman’s prodigy, it’s her. That’s a comfort I hold on to, late into the night, when I’m getting ready for bed and recognize a friend is on the other side of the wall.
seven
ROSIE
I never doubtedLiliana would keep space for me in her life. She wouldn’t forget the friendships she has just because of a boyfriend. We wouldn’t stop visiting our favorite hole-in-the-wall restaurant just because her boyfriend can afford to take her to fancier places, either.
It’s hard to beat the charm of a ramen shop tucked away from one of Boston’s main streets. The brown-brick restaurant has been our go-to since undergrad—mostly because they have ten-dollar Saturday specials and a pork broth neither of us can refuse.
A sleeve of Liliana’s light pink cardigan almost dips into it while she’s pushing her boiled egg around her bowl. “Do you have that ‘no extra credit’ professor again this semester?”
I groan into a bite of noodles. “Yes. Don’t remind me. He spent fifteen minutes of our first class emphasizing that extra credit is for lazy students.” I roll my eyes. “Like we’re not the same cohort he taught a few months ago.”
“That’s both my favorite and least favorite thing about grad school. You get to keep the good professors.”
“But the bad ones, too.”
“Exactly.”
Our back-and-forth dynamic is held deep in my heart. I don’t think there’s anyone who fully knows me, who I am, and my deepest worries, but Lil is definitely the closest in my life.
“How are your classes going?” I ask while wrapping more noodles around my chopsticks.
She beams. “Good, surprisingly. I decided to choose romance as my focus for my literature course. The class seems interesting so far.”
I lean over the table to pat her arm. “That’s great! So when are you letting me read one of your stories?”
Her face falls. “Never.”
“When you become a published author you can’t stop me from buying your book, you know.”
“Who said I was going to become a published author?”
I smirk. “Your journal entries where you go on and on about how it’s your life’s dream.”
“Rosie!” Liliana metal spoon clanks against the bowl when she drops it, along with her jaw. “You went through my journal?!”
I laugh, throwing my head back and nearly choking on the food in my mouth. “I fucking got you. Iguessed. You walked straight into that.”
If her jaw could go any lower, I think it would. I clutch my chest with laughter. Too easy.
Liliana rolls her eyes, but eventually she starts chuckling, too. “You’re so annoying.”
“You love me.”
“Uncontrollably.”
