Wrecked(31)

But Haley’s got this freckle--sprinkled nose that turns up at the end. And it’s positioned between these round blue eyes that laugh easily at his attempts at humor. And this warm flush that sweeps across her cheeks whenever she says something spontaneous and revealing. Which is often.

Sitting across the booth from her, fake--fighting over the last of the spicy fries, feels like being with an old friend.

Haley picks up one of the last, and biggest, fries.

“What’s it worth to you?” she says, waving it before his face.

“I’ll do your problem sets this week,” he says.

She tilts her head, considering. “Nah. Tempting, but that’s cheating. Plus I need to learn the stuff. Try again.”

He picks up the limp pickle spear on his plate. “I’ll give you my pickle.”

She makes this choking sound, like barely contained laughter. “That is just wrong,” she manages. “Sorry. You’ve got to do better or it’s mine. They’re all mine.”

“Okay,” he says. An idea comes to mind. What the hell. Just ask. “I’ll trade you for an apple. A whole bag of apples. And what might possibly be the best apple pie on the planet. Range Orchards, just a few miles from campus, has pick--your--own and they sell all sorts of stuff: cider donuts, pies. I’ll borrow a car from a friend and we can go this weekend. If you give me the last big fry plus the rest.”

Richard holds his breath. He has no idea why he suggested this. Completely unplanned. He hadn’t even thought of the local orchard where he went with his family last fall during Parents Weekend until just now. Ellen had loved it. “Stop me before I eat another cider donut!” she’d wailed after her third. He’d preferred the pie.

But he realizes that this is something he’d like to do. With Haley.

She doesn’t answer. Instead she gets this . . . look . . . in those eyes, reaches across the table, and next thing he knows she’s feeding him the jalape?o fry in question. She holds it until the last possible second, and is it his imagination or does she brush her fingers against his lips? She pushes the rest of the plate toward him.

“Well,” she says with a sigh, “you drive a hard bargain, Math Dude. I would have fought you for these, but I love apple picking.”

“Somehow I knew that.”

“So we’ll go this weekend?”

“Saturday. It’s supposed to rain Sunday. Can you go Saturday?”

“It’s a date.”

The word hangs in the air between them. He knows it sounds like something she probably didn’t mean . . . but in a way, it is. A date.

He has never gone on a “date” before. Unless you count prom. The one time ever in his young life that he formally asked a girl to accompany him to something.

He has absolutely no idea how this has happened.

“You want anything?” Haley says, holding out her cup. “I’m going to get a refill.”

Richard shakes his head, and she slides out of the booth. They’ve positioned themselves in the corner of the Grille farthest from the drinks machines. As she crosses the room, winding between tables, Richard notices one lone diner, a guy, checking her out. Haley seems oblivious to his gawking, and after she passes him, the guy redirects his gaze toward Richard. Rises and walks toward their booth.

Jordan.

He slips into Haley’s seat. “You’re just a one--man move--on--dot--whatever, aren’t you?”

Richard forces a smile. “I tutor her in math.”

Jordan laughs. “Didn’t look to me like any homework was going on.”

“You wouldn’t know what homework looks like. Anyway, what are you doing here? I thought everyone went to Main.”

Jordan’s expression clouds. “Yeah,” he says, drawing the word out slowly. “I can’t go there right now. Long story. We need to talk.”

Over Jordan’s shoulder, Richard watches Haley. She’s ordering something at the counter. “I’ll catch you later tonight,” he says. A little too quickly.

Jordan looks at him curiously, then turns, glances in Haley’s direction. “Okay, I see what’s going on here,” he says, twisting back and grinning at Richard. “Afraid I’ll interrupt whatever you’ve got going with your new little lady friend?”

Richard resists the urge to shove him from the booth. “You can imagine whatever you like,” he says easily. “But we’ve got a ton of calc to get through, so . . . beat it. I’ll catch you later.”

Jordan rises. Haley walks toward them now. She carries a tall water glass in one hand and two of those really good cellophane--wrapped M&M’s Rice Krispies Treats in another. Jordan has to pass her as he heads back to his table. When he does, he says something. Brief, just a few words. Doesn’t wait for a response, saunters on. Grabs his pack, shoulders it, and leaves the Grille.

When Haley sits, she passes Richard one of the treats.

“Friend of yours?” she asks, tilting her head toward Jordan.

“Housemate,” he replies. “What’s this?”

“Rice Krispies,” she says. “My favorite. Which means you get your very own.”

“The benefits of eating with a woman who doesn’t share.”

“You know it,” she says, unwrapping hers. She breaks off a chunk, pops it in her mouth.