Undecided(101)

“You have good taste in girlfriends?”

“Wrong again. You were doing so well, Nora. When’s your next meeting with the Dean? I’m going to tell him you’re not progressing as we’d hoped.”

I snicker. “Leave Dean Ripley out of this.”

A chilly February wind blows through the alley, making us both shiver. We step back inside and head up front to check out the rest of the show, stopping abruptly at the kitchen door. On the other side, lingering behind the coffee counter, are Nate and Marcela. They’ve been cordial since the Chrisgiving blow up, but to the best of my knowledge, nothing has actually happened between them. Now, however, they share a bowl of popcorn, their hands bumping when they reach in at the same time, glancing at each other for a long moment, then removing their hands and pretending to watch the show.

Ever so slowly I see Nate’s canvas sneaker-clad foot slide across the inches separating their feet, stopping just short of actually touching Marcela’s sparkly gold boot. After a second she shifts her heel, bumping her foot against his. They don’t look at each other again, and they don’t move.

“Ooh,” Crosbie whispers, equally captivated. “Who needs sleight of hand when you have sleight of foot? Maybe I haven’t given that guy enough credit. Maybe he does have game, after all.”

We back away from the door, unwilling to interrupt. “Let’s go out the back,” I suggest. “Where are you parked?”

“Down the block.”

Our coats and my purse are stashed in the storage room, and we snag them quickly and head out into the alley and around to the street. The plan is to go to Marvin’s when open mic wraps up, so Nate had given us the okay to store our props here over night. I worked the first part of the evening but my shift ended when Crosbie’s performance started, so it’s okay for me to bail early.

“Do you think they’ll ever get it together?” I ask. “The anticipation is killing me.”

“Of course they will,” Crosbie replies, reaching for my hand. “Has magic taught you nothing? What you don’t see is just as important as what you do.”

I think back to my belated epiphany. How sometimes it’s the things we do when we think no one is watching that really matter. “You’re right.”

“Of course I am.”

“Ha ha.”

We reach his car and he gallantly unlocks the door and gestures for me to climb in. “Wait. Why are we getting in your car?” I ask. “Aren’t we going to Marvin’s?”

Crosbie checks his watch. “Show’s not over for another half hour. We’ve got time.”

“For what?”

“To go back to your place to bang our brains out.”

“Ooh. Be still my heart.”

He laughs. “Just get in.”

I do as instructed and he closes the door, then rounds the front and climbs into the driver’s seat. “Give me a hint,” I order. We’d agreed not to do anything special tonight, so this feels suspiciously like I’ve been fooled.

“Hold your horses.”

He starts the car and gives it a second to warm up, but before he can pull out, a car comes up alongside us, honking maniacally.

Crosbie groans. “Dammit.”

I can’t help but laugh as he rolls down the window to see Kellan leaning across the passenger seat of his car, not one but two girls squeezed into the front.

“Great show tonight!” he hollers. “You have to tell me how you did that thing with the glass of water!”

The girls echo the praise and Crosbie handles it smoothly, perfectly comfortable with the attention. It didn’t take long for him and Kellan to get back to best friend status, so I still see Kellan from time to time. Things aren’t weird but they’re not entirely normal, either, and Kellan seems to have forgotten his vow to stop messing around. I’m not the person who moved into that apartment in September, and Crosbie’s not the person I thought I met then, either. But Kellan is exactly who he appeared to be—no pretenses, no illusions. Maybe he’ll change, and maybe not. Whatever he’s doing seems to be working for him, and that’s what matters.

He invites us to a Valentine’s party at one of the sororities, but Crosbie demurs, saying we have plans. Kellan gives a lascivious waggle of his eyebrows, wishes us luck, and speeds off.

“Jealous?” I ask, when Crosbie exhales and watches them go.

He looks over. “Of what?”

“Of that. Of the…variety.”

“Are you kidding?” He pulls into the road and starts driving back toward Burnham. “I’ve got Nora the Nerd, Nora the Assistant, Nora the Convict, Nora the Party Animal… Your multiple personalities provide all the variety I’ll ever need.”

“I don’t know what I see in you.”

He flexes his arm, and even in the dim light from the streetlamps it’s obvious he has very impressive muscles. “It’s probably these guys.”

I squint. “I can’t see anything.”

A few minutes later we reach the Frat Farm and find parking a couple houses down from Alpha Sigma Phi. The place is dark, the guys either at the open mic to support their friend or at one of the various parties around campus.

“A frat house,” I whisper, getting out of the car and following Crosbie down the sidewalk. “How charming!”