Highly Illogical Behavior(25)

“Even so,” she said, “don’t shut out the possibility of getting better, okay?”

“I’ll try not to,” he said.

When she went to leave that night, his grandma hugged him a little tighter than usual and he knew why. She was proud of him. And that was something very new. He knew how to be pitied and misunderstood, but being admired wasn’t in his wheelhouse quite yet. Though, it was certainly something he could get used to.

? ? ?

He got his schoolwork done super early the next day so he could relax a little bit before Lisa came over. He didn’t really know what they were going to do, but he’d thought about teaching her to play Munchkin, which was this strategy card game his parents had bought him, but didn’t really like playing. He couldn’t even get past explaining the rules to his grandma before she said, “This sounds too hard for someone my age.” It’s funny how she only ever mentioned her age when she didn’t feel like doing something.

But he knew Lisa would catch on quick, especially after seeing her play chess. He wanted a rematch but decided to challenge her to something she wasn’t so familiar with first. You know, remind her whose house it was and all. This was his territory. His fortress of solitude, impenetrable to the outside world.

Only, that wasn’t so true anymore, was it? Something new was here, in the form of this surprisingly familiar seventeen-year-old girl. And as soon as Solomon opened the front door that afternoon, Lisa walked in with a casualness outmatched only by his grandmother’s the previous day. She gave him a wave and a smile and moseyed over to the living room to sit down on the sofa.

“Pool’s coming along,” she said, gesturing toward the sliding glass door and out into the backyard.

“I hope it’s not a trap,” he said, sitting down.

“Not a bad trap to be in,” she said. “I’m sure your parents will use it either way.”

“Sure they will,” he said. “But I am going out there.”

“Good,” she said. “Can I come to all your wild pool parties?”

“Oh no,” he said jokingly. “Co-ed fraternization is strictly prohibited.”

“Well,” she said, picking up the Speedo from the cushion beside her. “It looks like boys wearing Speedos isn’t.”

“My grandma. She bought out a sporting goods store or something.”

“Your grandmother bought you a Speedo?”

“Yeah . . . I didn’t try to defend it, okay?”

“Hey, I’m more than used to Speedos.”

“I don’t have a response for that,” he said.

“Clark,” she said. “Water polo.”

“Oh, right. That can’t be comfortable.”

“He loves it,” she said. “I think he’s an exhibitionist.”

“Feel free to provide photographic evidence at your leisure,” he said, turning red.

“Solomon Reed! Did you just make a sexy joke about my boyfriend?”

“Maybe. How does water polo work again?”

“Okay . . . so, think hockey but in a pool with way less clothing.”

“Awesome,” he said. “Is he any good?”

“When he wants to be. He’s got motivation issues. I was sort of hoping he’d try for a scholarship, but I can’t really figure out what his plan is.”

“There’s plenty of time left, right?”

“Not really. Applications are due to most schools by December.”

“That’s terrifying.”

“I can’t wait,” she said. “I fear I’ve outgrown my peers.”

“I’m your peer,” he said with a blank face.

“My other peers,” she corrected.

“Even Clark?”

“Especially Clark.”

“Oh,” he said, following it with nothing because that’s how much he knew about relationships.

“Sorry. I just wish he’d take things more seriously sometimes. Having a plan is sort of my thing.”

“No surprises,” he said. “You’ve clearly come to the right place.”

“So far, you’ve been all surprises.”

“Right. Well, I’ve reached my quota then.”

“The Land of Solomon,” she said. “Come for the holodeck, stay for the pasty kid in the Speedo.”

“I’m not wearing that thing. And you do realize I spend ninety-eight percent of my time reading and watching TV alone, right?”

“I realize you used to,” she said with confidence.

? ? ?

Lisa came over every day that week. She’d only stay two or three hours, just long enough to play a couple of games or watch a movie, and by the time the weekend rolled around, Solomon knew to expect her around three thirty or four every afternoon. And he could feel himself relaxing a little more with each visit.

On Saturday, Solomon’s mom insisted on cooking them lunch. He knew it would happen eventually—a mostly silent meal where he’d be forced to look on in horror as his parents took turns interviewing her between bites of food. Up to that point, they’d pretty much stayed out of the way, so well that he suspected they were making sure she’d be sticking around before getting too attached.