Once and for All(57)

“And you do.”

“Well, yeah.” He must have known this sounded arrogant, because he smiled at me, diluting it somewhat. “But I’m still learning. I have this awesome professor, McCallum McClatchy. You ever read his books?”

I shook my head, not exactly wanting to share that the current novel on my bedside table was a fantasy novel about girls put under a spell that made them into tigers. They then had to fight a series of other tigers, also former humans, in order to turn back. I’d once been a big fan of contemporary fiction. Since I lost Ethan, though, real life had been bad enough all around me on a daily basis. Between the covers of a book, I wanted anything else.

“Oh, he’s great,” Leo continued. “Irish born, really sparse in terms of his prose, but with thick language. His whole first book takes place in a potato field over the course of one day, and it’s told from the point of view of the plow.”

“Wow,” I said.

“It’s incredible.” I’d never seen him this excited about coffee. “I’ll loan you one of my copies. If you don’t mind highlights and margin notes.”

“I don’t,” I said.

“Great. I’ll bring it to work tomorrow.” He smiled at me again. “It can be kind of a tough read, with all the footnotes and flashbacks. McCallum is my inspiration when it comes to time shifting on the page. But I can walk you through it.”

I’d said I wasn’t good at writing fiction, not reading it, I thought, but then told myself to stop being so judgmental. When you loved something, you wanted everyone else to love it in the same way. Right? Right.

Just then, my phone rang. With it buried in my bag, which was over my shoulder, it took a second to grab it, during which Leo raised his eyebrows at my ringtone. Who was being judgmental now?

“Hello?”

“Wave at me,” a voice said.

I glanced at the screen: Ambrose. “What?”

“I’m inside, in the living room. Facing you right now. Wave at me. Make it look urgent.”

“You need an urgent wave?”

“Just do it. Please?” Then he hung up.

I turned, peering over a group of girls huddled in the open sliding-glass door. Ambrose was indeed all the way across the room from me, a red cup now in his hands. A girl with broad shoulders and a high ponytail was facing him, her hands on her hips. He looked like he might be sweating.

“What’s going on?” Leo asked.

“Not sure,” I said, then waved at Ambrose. He looked surprised, then glanced both ways, as if wondering if it was too late to avoid being spotted. I waved again, this time with a bit more arm. The girl in front of him turned around, narrowing her eyes at me.

“What was that, your ringtone?” Leo asked me. “It sounded like . . .”

“It’s nothing,” I told him, as the girl with the ponytail turned back to Ambrose, sticking her finger in his face. I watched as he slid out from in front of her, talking the entire time, then made a beeline across the room, dodging in and out of people, before popping out the door a minute or two later. Ira, spotting him, began wiggling, his tail going crazy.

“Thanks,” he said to me as he slid in beside me, bumping my leg with his. Not only did I not feel awkward, I didn’t even move over. “Melissa was getting a bit clingy.”

I looked back at the living room, where Melissa, with her big shoulders, was now glaring at me. “What did you tell her?”

“That you are my ex-girlfriend and we’ve gotten back together since she and I hung out, and you are very jealous,” he replied smoothly, now scratching a grateful Ira behind his ears.

“Excuse me?” I said.

“It’s fine, our road trip to the mountains was weeks ago.”

“You went to the mountains with that girl?”

“I needed some clear air,” he explained. “Don’t you, sometimes?”

I just looked at him. Across from me, Leo snorted into his beer.

“Anyway, don’t let me interrupt your night,” he said, bending down to untie Ira from the deck rail. “We’ll just make our exit and hope for better results at the next party.”

“There’s always another party, isn’t there?” I asked.

“Hope so,” he said cheerfully. “Because this one is too small for me and Melissa. You might want to avoid her, you know, just to be on the safe side.”

“Won’t she wonder why Louna’s talking to another guy if she’s with you?” Leo asked.

“No, I told her she has a wandering eye and is super promiscuous,” Ambrose told him. “That’s why we broke up.”

“You did what?” I said.

“I’m going now!” he said, wrapping the leash around his wrist. “You two kids have fun.”

“Leo! What are you doing here?”

Once again, Ambrose was saved by the blonde—this time, a very pretty girl with long straight hair wearing denim shorts and a peasant blouse, gladiator sandals wrapped around her tan legs. Everything about her screamed beach and flowy, and I instantly was aware of my own drab ensemble.

“Lauren,” said Leo, breaking into a smile. “Hey.”

They embraced, her kissing his cheek, then both turned to face us. “Hi,” she said, sticking her hand out. “I’m Lauren.”