You Owe Me a Murder(26)

“They don’t serve it cold,” he said.

“Why?”

Alex shrugged. “Maybe they developed a taste for it this way back in the 1600s, prerefrigeration.” He took another sip. “For what it’s worth, it’s growing on me. I also ordered us some Scotch eggs. The bartender says they’re awesome.”

“What are they? Eggs in plaid kilts?”

“Not a clue, but I figure we should go native.” Alex passed me a paper napkin and motioned to my face. “Your makeup is messed up a bit.”

Oh god, I probably looked like a raccoon. I licked the napkin and wiped under my eyes, trying to clean up the kohl liner that had streaked from my tears. “Better?”

He stared into my eyes, inspecting me, making me flush, and then nodded.

“I guess I shouldn’t go to plays—?I can’t handle them,” I said, trying to make a joke.

“For me it’s the SPCA ads they have on TV. You know the one where Sarah McLachlan sings?” He shook his head sadly. “Gets me every single time.”

I managed a weak smile.

“You okay?”

My throat tightened. “I guess. It’s just, you know, everything in the past few days and then the play was so emotional.”

I wanted to tell Alex about Connor. About what had happened between the two of us and how that now made everything more confusing. I was still mad at Connor for how he’d acted with us. And then I felt guilty for being mad because now he was dead. And then there was also this heavy level of regret that things between us would never be better.

“Yeah,” Alex said. The waitress dropped down a plate in front of us. Two dull gray orbs rolled around the center. Alex poked one of them cautiously with a fork, cut the sphere in half, and then sniffed the bite before putting it into his mouth. “Huh—?hard-boiled eggs wrapped in sausage, I think.” He chewed. “Not bad.” He pushed the plate toward me. “I have to say, for the first play I’ve ever seen, that one was pretty good.”

I put my glass down, surprised out of my depressing thoughts. “Really, you’ve never been to a play before?”

“Nope.”

“But you seemed so excited, I figured you must be some kind of musical theater nut.”

“I’m always excited to try new things.” Alex turned so his knees faced mine. His elbow rested on the counter beside us. He looked perfectly relaxed. His dark hair curled over one eye. He looked like a friendly pirate.

“You mean that, don’t you?”

He nodded. “Sure.”

I paused to consider what he’d said. “New things freak me out. I tend to stick with what I know I like.” I took a big drink of beer to avoid how awkward I suddenly felt. “That’s lame, I guess.”

He glanced over. “No, it’s not. It’s just what you feel. Why would liking new stuff be better?”

I shifted on the hard seat, avoiding his gaze. “Because it is.” I struggled to explain what seemed to me a basic truth. People who tried new things were exciting and daring. They were the opposite of me. “Everyone knows that.”

Alex waved off what I said. “Who cares what other people think?”

“Most people,” I pointed out. “Me.” I winced at the truth. I cared too much. I hated every single post my mom put up, imagining what people thought. People I didn’t even know. The general public passing judgment on every mistake and heartbreak. I’d been dreading what it would be like when Connor and I got back to school and he told everyone what had happened.

I swallowed hard. I guess that wouldn’t be a problem anymore.

“Does it seem weird to you that Connor is gone?” I asked Alex. “That he could be alive one day and then dead the next?”

“I guess that’s partly why I want to try new stuff all the time. I figure I’ll regret more of what I don’t do, versus stuff I do that doesn’t turn out. Like, this play was fun. Some other stuff I’ve tried sucked, but I survived.”

“What kind of stuff sucked?” I asked, curious.

Alex ate another bite of the egg. “I ate a cricket once on a dare. That was gross.”

My nose wrinkled up in disgust. “I could have told you eating bugs was a bad idea.”

Alex chuckled. “Yeah, maybe. Although millions of people do it.” The smile fell off his face. “And I asked this girl out once. She was in a writing group at the library with me and I thought . . . I don’t know . . . I thought she would say yes. She clarified right away that I thought very wrong.”

“Sorry,” I said softly.

He shrugged. “Yeah.” He took a drink.

“A guy broke my heart right before I came here,” I blurted out. I couldn’t say Connor’s name yet. I wanted Alex to feel for me, not Connor, who was now more sympathetic because he was dead. My throat was tight and I was suddenly sure I was going to start crying again.

“Ass-hat,” Alex said. His insult shocked me and I almost spit out a mouthful of warm beer. He smiled at me. “His loss.”

“Technically, I’m the one who got dumped. I don’t think he saw it as a loss.”

“If he didn’t see that you’re brilliant, beautiful, and have a killer knowledge of sci-fi movies, then it’s his loss. But that’s my point—?sometimes you try stuff and it blows, but sometimes new stuff turns out pretty cool. Like the play—?that was good.”