The Anatomical Shape of a Heart(21)

“A stronger stomach?”

“Next best thing. Mint.”

“Umm…”

He dug out his phone and tapped the screen a few times. “An inbound N train is ten blocks away. You feel okay to walk to the stop?”

“With you?”

“That was sort of the idea, yeah.”

“How do I know you won’t lead me into some creeptastic CSI situation?”

“Damn. There goes my plan to harvest your kidneys.”

“Please, don’t mention kidneys right now,” I said, pressing the heel of my hand against my stomach.

He shuddered. “Now you’re making me queasy. Look, it’s a busy spot in the Castro. We only have to make one transfer. Fifteen minutes to get there, tops. Just text someone,” he suggested. “Make sure someone knows where you are.”

I thought for a moment. “Give me your wallet.”

“Excuse me?”

I held out my hand. “If you want to take me somewhere, give me your wallet.”

He didn’t even hesitate, just dug it out of his back pocket and handed it over.

The black leather was warm and worn around the edges. “I thought you were vegetarian,” I said as I cracked it open.

“A bad one, remember? Please don’t dig around too much in there.”

I wiggled out his driver’s license. “Afraid I’ll find condoms or your My Little Pony club card?”

“It’s called a Brony card, thankyouverymuch. Oh, Jesus—don’t look at the photo.”

How could I not? It was ten times worse than the one on my state ID, and I wasn’t sure, but he seemed to have a ton of acne, which made me feel a lot better about his stunning good looks now. “Let’s see, Jackson Vincent is your real name, and not some fanfic Fast and Furious character you made up—surprise, surprise. And your birthday is in December, so that makes me, what, five months older than you?”

“Told you I liked older women.”

I held back a smile. “Five eleven? You seem taller.” And closer. His cheek was only a few inches away from mine.

“Six one. I got the card a year and a half ago.”

“Where’s this address?”

“Ashbury Heights.”

“Huh. Do you go to Urban Academy?”

“Checking up on me?” He puffed up, more than a little pleased about this.

“Well, do you?”

“Would that magically make me safer in your eyes?” he asked.

“Probably not.”

“Good, because plenty of asshats go to that school, believe me.”

“If your family’s rich, I’m not impressed.”

“That makes two of us. What are you doing?”

Mom thought I was working, and since she was just starting a twelve-hour shift a few buildings away, I figured I’d flown under the radar. But Heath expected me home. I snapped a photo of Jack’s license with my phone and sent it to Heath with a text: Going out to the Castro. If I’m not home by midnight, this guy kidnapped me. Then I replaced the ID—seriously, was that the edge of a condom wrapper?—and stuck the wallet in my jacket pocket, along with my phone. “I’ll give it back to you when you deliver me home with both kidneys intact.”

If I hadn’t been sitting down already, his grin would’ve knocked me flat on my ass. “Any more arguments? Because we need to leave if we’re going to catch that train.” He held out an upturned palm.

Most people who offer to help you stand just end up giving you a weak hand, but Jack tugged me off the ground with a surprising amount of force. This earned him a few extra points in my mind. I like people who follow through on promises.

10

True to his word, after a train ride through Sunset Tunnel and a painless bus transfer, Jack led me across a street lined with parked cars to a corner shop nestled on the border between Castro and Mission. He was taking me to a tea lounge that served (wait for it) tea and small plates of food. It was one of those casual-swank places that probably charged an arm and a leg and attracted a weird mix of theatergoers and hipsters. Heath would love it; Mom would turn up her nose. And my heart was racing too fast to have an opinion.

Warm light glowed from soaring windows. It wasn’t superbusy—probably because it was eight thirty on a weeknight. We left the chilly air and stepped inside a warm and steamy room that smelled intoxicating, all spicy and herbal and citrus. Despite the high ceiling, the lounge felt cozy and had a sort of eclectic Eastern exotic vibe, with lots of cinnamony orange paint, expensive wood, and bonsai trees.

In other words, it was everything the anatomy lab was not, and I couldn’t have been more grateful.

A tea bar stretched along one wall, tables to the left, but Jack asked for someone—a cheerful girl named Star, who looked to be a few years older than us. They hugged. When Jack introduced me as “his friend Beatrix,” she shook my hand and winked.

“Can we get the table in the tatami alcove?” Jack pleaded. “It’s empty.”

“You’re lucky it’s late and I’m in a good mood. Come on.”

Along the back wall, the table in question sat on a raised platform covered with a bamboo mat. It seated ten people on floor cushions—some kind of Japanese deal. A sheer gold curtain divided us from the rest of the room and provided the illusion of privacy, but we could still hear and see everyone.