Frenemies(32)

“Which you think I provide,” Henry said. “I’m like the conduit for craziness.”

“Maybe. It’s like how Georgia will date only men who are, essentially, genetically predetermined to be *s.” This didn’t qualify as sharing personal information with the enemy. Henry had known Georgia as long as he’d known me. He knew the guys Georgia dated.

“And what about you?” he asked.

“Me?” I shot him a look, but he didn’t appear to notice. “I don’t really date that much.”

“Just disastrously,” Henry said, and let out a laugh.

Ha ha.

He ignored the scowl I sent his way easily enough, and before I knew it we were sitting outside my building. I wanted to flounce out of the car, slam the door behind me, and have that action garner the sort of response it would if I were a girl like Helen. If I were Helen, the faintest hint of disapproval would have the man groveling. A slammed car door would guarantee weeks of flower deliveries, I was sure of it.

I didn’t know what it said about me that I wanted that, but I suspected it was a moot point in any case, because I didn’t do it, because I wouldn’t stoop to Helen’s level. (And also because my disapproval had so far inspired Henry only to match my level of snideness and immaturity whenever possible. There was a decided lack of blossoms.)

“Thank you for driving me home,” I said very stiffly. “Um. Have a good night.”

“Oh, come on.” Henry had one arm propped up on the steering wheel, and leaned back against his door so he could face me. “What are you going to do now?”

I glared at him. He returned the glare mildly, with a hint of smile, as usual.

“Things,” I said coldly.

“Like what things?” He grinned. “I’m not driving all the way back out to Winchester. It’s Saturday night. You look like you want to kill somebody and I’m betting that’s the most entertainment I’m likely to see tonight. Bring it on.”

“I think, actually, that you’re the raving lunatic. That exposure to you makes people feel like they’re also crazy but, no, it’s really just you.”

“That’s an interesting theory,” Henry said. “Now are you going to tell me what this is all about?”

Which is how I found myself trudging up the stairs in my apartment building with Henry at my side. Not an eventuality I’d ever thought to plan for. I was actually struck dumb by the fact that it was happening.

“I just have to change,” I said when we got to my door.

“I heard you the first time,” he said, his eyes laughing at me as he stood over me. “I promise not to look.”

“The point is that my apartment is a mess,” I said. A little bit desperate.

“Because I care deeply about the state of your apartment?”

“I do!” Just flat-out desperate.

“Why does everything with you regress to the sixth grade?” Henry asked. Rhetorically, I assumed.

“Look, I don’t live in a historic town house, okay? It’s just the same crappy one-bedroom I’ve had for years,” I said—still just as desperate and also a bit too loud. It reverberated up and down the hall. Henry looked incredulous.

But he didn’t get a chance to respond, because the door next to mine flew open then, and Irwin the Irritating—clad, as ever, in that same tatty bathrobe—threw himself into the hall.

“Really, Miss Curtis!” he scolded me. “I must protest! Do you know what time it is?”

“It’s eleven-thirty,” Henry said. In an overly helpful sort of tone, as if he thought Irwin had ventured out to ask the time because he really wanted to know. I considered the fact that he was a wiseass for a moment, but then turned my attention to Irwin.

“It’s actually Ms. Curtis,” I interjected. Henry slid me a look that suggested he wished I would shut up.

“Your dog has been barking for hours!” Irwin snapped at me.

This was a complete lie. Linus the Wonder Watchdog wasn’t even barking as I stood there, talking, directly outside the door. The only things that Linus barked about were when he wanted to a) go outside while I was sleeping, b) eat while I was sleeping, or c) attack whoever was foolish enough to ring my buzzer. Otherwise, please. He was too lazy.

“He seems to have stopped,” Henry pointed out. Helpfully.

Irwin brandished his notebook at me. “I’ll be sending my complaints to the landlord! Just you wait!”

“Fine,” I snapped at him. “Go right ahead! I’m sure you’ve been doing it for months. The landlord doesn’t care what happens in this building unless it can turn into a lawsuit, though, just so you know.”

“I’ll be sure to note that remark as well,” Irwin huffed, and sure enough, rooted around in his pocket until he found a pen. He extracted it with a flick of his wrist. As Henry and I watched, he stuck his tongue between his teeth, opened the notebook, and began to write in absurdly tiny letters across the page.

Next to this, having Henry in my apartment seemed by far the lesser of two evils.

“So,” I said when the door had slammed behind us, Linus was leaping up to lick at Henry’s face, and Irwin was left out in the hallway to scribble in his journal all night long for all I cared, “this is home sweet home.” I eyed him as I flicked on the lights and saw him take in the towering mass of books. “Be careful. Some of the stacks are dangerous.”