He takes two steps toward me. He starts to say something. He gets as far as the first syllable, his hand coming up toward my waist, his face doing the thing it does before he kisses me —
The front door opens.
“Oh,” I say. I’m out of my bedroom before he can finish the syllable. “My roommate. Come.”
I don’t look back to see if he’s following.
Penelope is setting a paper coffee cup down on the kitchen counter when I walk out, a tote bag of groceries slung over oneshoulder. She lifts the tote onto the counter with one practiced motion, and she pulls out a bunch of dill, a lemon, and a small glass jar of organic jam. Her hair is in a low ponytail. She’s wearing wide-leg jeans and a soft grey sweater.
She sees Chase behind me, and her face shifts into a careful, polite expression.
“Hi,” she says.
Her eyes flick to me. Just for a second. Then back to him.
“This must be Chase.”
“Hi. Yeah.” Chase steps out from behind me. He wipes his palm on his jeans — I watch him do it, the small unconscious gesture, and I thinkplease don’t, please don’t, please don’t— and sticks out his hand. “Chase. Good to meet you. Thanks for taking care of my girl.”
My girl.
I don’t flinch. I make a point of standing perfectly still and letting the phrase land where he meant it to land, which is in the soft territory ofaren’t we sweet, and not where it actually lands, which is in the slightly harder territory ofjust so we’re clear.
Penelope takes his hand.
She looks at me for the smallest half-second, and then back at him, and her smile is gracious in a way I need to practice.
“Penelope. Nice to meet you.”
“Place is beautiful,” he says.
“Thank you. I can’t take credit for the building. Just the furniture.”
“It’s really nice in here,” he says.
The compliment lands flat. He knows it. He shifts his weight to his other foot. I can feel him retreating into himself, and I can feel myself not stopping him. I am so tired all of a sudden that I want to lie down on the rug.
She turns back to the groceries, graceful about it. She doesn’t make him feel small. She does, however, move on.
“You guys are coming to the party, right?”
Chase’s eyes flick to me.
My stomach.
“There’s a thing tonight,” I say lightly, like it’s nothing because it is nothing. “A house party. Pen’s friend invited me this morning. I was — I was going to tell you.”
He looks at me for a half-second longer than he needs to.
“Yeah, no, sounds good.” His voice is even. Too even. “We’ll be there.” He looks back at Penelope. “Thanks for the invite.”
“Yeah.” She closes the fridge. “It’s going to be fun. Mara will text you the address. We’ll be there by eight.”
I nod. “Okay.”
She picks up her coffee cup and walks past us toward her bedroom. At the door, she pauses. She turns her head — just barely, just enough — and her eyes find mine, and for a half-second I see something on her face that I don’t yet know her well enough to read. Concern, maybe. Or recognition. Then her door closes.
The living room falls quiet.
