Saint Anything(99)

Already, he was sitting on my bed, grabbing one of my magazines off the bedside table. I pulled open my desk drawer, retrieving my charger, then held it out to him. “Here.”

He flipped a page, then glanced up at me, but didn’t reach for it. “Oh. Great, thanks.”

I dropped it on the bed beside him, then went back to my desk. He didn’t budge, even as I returned to my homework. Every minute or so, I’d hear him turn a page.

My phone beeped, and I glanced at it. It was a text from Mac.

6 orders garlic knots. Nothing else. Ideas?

I smiled. Spaghetti dinner? Carb addicts meeting?

Will let you know.

“So,” Ames said. “What are you working on over there?”

I put my phone down. “Ecology.”

“Ugh.” He made a face. “Just the word sounds hard.”

To this, I said nothing, going back to my work and hoping he’d take the hint. No luck. I was wondering if I’d actually have to ask him to leave when my mom came down the hallway.

“Sydney, I forgot to mention that—” she was saying, but stopped suddenly when she spotted Ames on my bed. “Oh. I thought you were studying.”

“I am,” I said.

“I’m distracting her,” Ames said cheerfully, shutting the magazine.

As the crease between my mom’s eyes deepened, I knew I hadn’t been wrong earlier at dinner: whatever pull Ames had once had over her, it was waning, if not gone altogether. And he didn’t even know it. “Better let her get back to it,” she said, her voice clipped. “Okay?”

Now he looked up. “Oh. Sure.”

My mom stepped back from the door, clearing the way for him to leave. A beat passed, though, then another, before he took the hint and got to his feet. “Thanks for the charger,” he said to me, then squeezed my shoulder as he passed. “You’re the best.”

I said nothing, my eyes on my mom as she watched him take his time leaving the room. As he passed her, he said, “You want some coffee? I’m thinking about making a pot.”

“No, I’m fine,” she replied. “I have work to do.”

“Okay,” he said, turning toward Peyton’s room. “If you change your mind, just let me know.”

My mom watched him walk away. When she looked at me, I went back to my book, quickly.

“You want this open or closed?” she asked, nodding at the door.

We looked at each other for a long moment. She gets it, I thought. Not all of it, but some, finally. Finally.

“Closed,” I said. She nodded and shut the door.

*

The next afternoon, I was sitting behind the counter at Kiger listening to Jenn lecture her morons about quadratic equations when Mac’s truck pulled up right outside the door. I blinked, not quite believing my eyes. But when Layla climbed out and came in the door, I knew it was for real.

“Is he here?” she asked. Her face was red, eyes swollen.

“Spence?” I asked, although I knew. She nodded. “No.”

She bit her lip, then pulled out her phone, handing it to me. There was a text exchange on the screen, first her asking if they could at least meet and talk. Then his reply.

Have tutoring. Sorry.

“He dumped me,” she said. I looked up at her: now she was outright crying. “Over the goddamn phone.”

“Oh, Layla,” I said. Outside, Mac was still behind the wheel. As much as I wanted to see him—I always wanted to see him—I understood why he was keeping his distance. This was about her, not us. “I’m so sorry. That sucks.”

“He’s an *.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, sniffling. “I knew something was going on. He was suddenly so busy, not replying to my messages . . . so I called today and asked him, flat-out. He didn’t even try to deny it.” She cleared her throat, sticking her phone back in her pocket. I glanced out at Mac again: he was still looking in at us. “I don’t know why this keeps happening to me. I’m a good person. I mean, I try to be, and—”

“You are,” I said, standing up and walking around the counter.

“All I want is someone decent.” She sniffled again, her eyes filling with tears. “You know? Kind. Good. Like in all those love stories I’m such an expert on. It can’t just be fiction. It can’t. Those guys are out there, I know it. I just can’t find them.”

With this, her voice broke. I put my arms around her, pulling her in close as she buried her head in my shoulder. I knew whatever I said right then she wouldn’t hear; with that kind of pain, a deafness comes. But if she had been able to listen, I would have told her she was right. Those guys were out there. In fact, one was watching us right now, somewhere nearby. Keeping his distance, knowing she needed me to herself right then, but still, just outside the door.

*

“I don’t even see why you need me,” Layla said glumly as we sat on the hood of my car after school a couple of days later. “I thought I was just helping with the demo.”

There was now less than two weeks until the showcase, and clearly, Mac was not the only one getting nervous. Eric, high-strung even under the best of circumstances, had switched into maniacal preparation mode, demanding constant practice and focus. The fact that Mac had to work, Ford was more interested in getting high, and Layla’s heart was broken did not deter him.