Happenstance(45)

Sweaty.

I’m almost to my room when there’s a creak across the kitchen and Shayna steps out of her room, crossing her arms over her chest. “No.” She waves a hand at the couch. “You need to sit down and tell me what’s going on.”

My excuse is locked and loaded. “I stayed the night at a friend’s house.”

She snorts. “You don’t have friends.”

I wince. Should have thought that one through a little better. “Wow, you’re really going to call me out like that?”

For a beat, she pretends to think about it. “Yes. I am.”

Rolling my eyes, I cross to the couch and flop down, tucking the manila envelope under my thigh. She takes her time meandering over to me, propping her butt on the table that serves as a television stand. “Yesterday, you got three gifts in the mail. Sauteed that eggplant last night with some garlic, by the way. Very tasty.”

My mouth drops open. “What happened to the separate food rule?”

“You weren’t going to eat it,” she claps back, as if she had that rebuttal locked and loaded. “You only eat things that require a bowl. Soup, cereal, noodles…”

“Fine. I guess that tracks.”

“Also, you didn’t leave the address where you were going on the freezer. We both broke a rule, so we’re even.”

“I never follow that rule.”

“You don’t go out, that’s why. No matter how often I invite you.”

“Is this going to get emotional, because I’m…” I scrub my eyes with the heels of my hands, not caring what it does to my already tragic makeup. “I’m drained.”

“Why?”

My hands fall into my lap. “Why do you care?”

“Because I like you. You’re funny. You’re driven. You remind me of me before I started going to therapy.” She shrugs a shoulder. “I want to be your friend. Deal with it.”

“This conversation makes me want to jump out the window.”

“Me too.”

“Ooh. Even after therapy?”

“Therapy is an ongoing project. It doesn’t fix you.”

I exhale toward the ceiling and leave my head there. For some reason, my neck is sore from last night and not having to hold my head up feels amazing. Also, when I’m not looking directly at Shayna, the act of opening up is slightly less repugnant. “Look, it’s not you. It’s me.”

“I know.”

I give her a dry look, then go back to staring at the ceiling.

Shayna chuckles. “Tell me where you were last night and I’ll leave you alone.”

“I don’t want to tell you. It’s like…” I shake my head, vision from the hotel room vivid, playing out in the front of my mind, stealing a considerable amount of my breath. “Something no one would understand unless they were in this exact situation.”

Shayna sits down beside me on the couch. “I’m going to riot unless you give me more.”

“Figured that.” I study her for a moment, wondering what it would be like to come home and tell her about my day. Listen to a funny story about hers. Have plans to hang out. It would be great, wouldn’t it? I’d have that axe-drop feeling the whole time. Still, maybe I could test the waters? After all, I didn’t spend last night alone and company didn’t kill me. Yet. “Tell me something about yourself first.”

She squints an eye. “My dream is to visit the tulip fields in Amsterdam.”

“Okay.” My pulse beats wonkily. “And you work for a non-profit downtown…”

“Uh-huh. We provide counseling services to young mothers.” I notice that her eyes stray to something across the room. It’s the newspaper I saw downstairs. On top of a fresh stack at the bodega. “Although if the current mayor doesn’t get reelected, I’m not sure we’ll keep our funding. He’s been a big supporter, but…” She shrugs, looking half dejected, half resigned. “Obviously someone powerful wants him out.”

“Yeah,” I eke out, trying not to show how fast my blood is pumping.

This is the first time the deputy mayor’s mole status becomes more than a story.

His actions are going to affect people. Shayna. The people she helps.

My roommate is clearly starting to find my sudden silence odd, so I reach for a distraction. “What about something more personal?”

It takes her several moments to think. “I lost my virginity on the Staten Island ferry.”

“Oh wow.” I do a double take. “That’s a good one.”

She laughs, appearing somewhat distant for a handful of seconds. “It might be, if that dude wasn’t the very reason I’m in therapy.”

“Woof.” I reach out to squeeze her hand, but get nervous and draw it back before making contact. “I’m sorry, Shayna.”

“Thanks.” She nudges my knee. “Your turn. Who caused this walk of fame?”

That gets a smile out of me. “Instead of walk of shame?”

“Uh-huh.”

I worry the hem of my dress. “If that’s your attitude toward one-night stands, maybe you won’t be too judgmental about the fact that I…I was with three men.” Her jaw drops and I rush to continue. “It’s a whole bizarre story. I got trapped on the Roosevelt Island tram with them and it’s hard to describe, but there’s this connection. None of us have ever done anything like this, except Tobias. He’s an adult film star—”