“Yeah, you do. He was in our calculus class senior year.”
I shake my head again, watching Arlo load his plate with Thai food.
“He wasn’t circumcised…”
Arlo pauses, his gaze traveling from the Pad Thai to Rose and then me.
I slap a hand over my face as recognition sets in. “You couldn’t have just described what he looked like? Or the fact he asked both you and Katie Marshall to the same dance? Or that he had an allergic reaction and passed out in calculus?”
Rose’s smile grows to full-watt. “I knew you’d know who I was talking about.”
“Why are we talking about full-bun Beau?”
She belts out a laugh. “He had a cat that he trained to use the toilet. Remember? We went to his house for that club you made me join?”
“Leadership?”
“Yes!”
I shake my head. “I don’t remember the cat.”
“That’s the only thing I do remember,” she admits.
“I don’t think we can train a kitten to use the toilet. He’s tiny. He’d probably fall in and drown.”
Rose’s smile falls into a smirk. “See? You do care.”
“Just because I don’t want a dead cat on my conscience doesn’t mean I care.”
Rose pets the cat and leans closer to it. “She sounds tough, but really, she’s a big softy.”
I fix her with a glare that she ignores, but then Arlo clears his throat and pulls his wallet from his jeans. He fishes out two bills and hands them to me. “I’d offer to go get stuff myself, but shopping carts are kind of my nemesis right now.”
“Arlo, you’re a class-act,” Rose says, taking the money. She turns to face me. “I’ll go to Walmart for supplies. Need anything while I’m there?”
I glance at the cat and the full plate Arlo’s placing in our microwave. “Why don’t I go?”
Rose shakes her head. “That’s okay. I want to keep him here for the foreseeable future, so I’ll do it.” She dumps the sleeping cat into my hands, his tiny body warm and impossibly weightless.
“I—”
She shakes her head. “Sit down and cuddle with Elton. I’ll be back before you can finish telling Arlo about Texas.”
She slides on my flip-flops that are still by the front door from having taken the trash out, and her purse from the hook beside the door, and disappears, leaving a wave of silence so loud, my ears burn.
Arlo’s gray eyes latch on to me. I wonder if he recognizes my growing unease or if like this morning, he’ll be immune to it.
“Coach Harris doesn’t talk with an accent,” he says, shocking me out of my stupor and serving me a curveball.
“Nope,” I say.
He studies me for a moment, his gaze intense and intentional. I swallow, considering how to change the subject, but before I can, his attention shifts to the kitchen behind me. “If I were silverware, where would I be?”
“Top drawer. Next to the dishwasher.”
He pivots, and then a noticeable wince tugs at his lips. I take a step forward, ready to help or support him or—I’m not sure what—but he quickly recovers and tugs the drawer open. With a fork in hand, he moves to grab his plate, but I reach it first, carrying it over to the small dining room table that is mostly used to house random stuff we bring home and don’t know what to do with. It’s only cleared off tonight because Rose’s dad came by to visit last weekend, and we did a deep clean on the apartment.
“What happened?” I ask.
Arlo takes a seat with a quiet sigh before physically lifting his left leg and moving it like one would a suitcase. “Last bowl game of the year. I pivoted, and the linebacker kept going straight. Plowed through my knee and tore my ACL in half.”
I cringe. “I’m sorry. That sucks.”
He lifts his shoulders with a casual shrug, though his brow furrows and his eyes pinch at the corners, revealing it matters a little more than he’s letting on. “It’s allowing me a couple of months to have the excuse to be a couch potato. I can’t complain.”
“So, you came from Jersey to attend Brighton?”
His eyes and lips lift with a smile. “I did.”
“Do you miss home?”
He shrugs again, but rather than appearing unsure, he looks somehow confident—brazen with the gesture. “Yeah, but I like living out here. I like that it gets cold at night—even during the summer. And I like all the crazy tree huggers and how chill everyone is.” His shoulders lift again as though snapping him out of his train of thoughts. “What about you? Do you miss Texas?”
I breathe out a laugh. “Every day.” I glance toward the window with the shades we’ve had shut for months to keep the gray weather at bay. “I miss the sun. I miss the heat. I miss my friends.”
“Are you planning to go back?”
I drop my gaze to the cat as it rolls flush against my stomach, stretching its tiny front legs out, and nod. “After I graduate.”
“Well, see? I’m a junior, too, that means we’ve got a full year and some change.” He smiles. “And I could use some help finding out how to break my curse.”
5
Arlo
Olivia blinks back her surprise and then laughs. “Curse as in a hex?”
I stare at her long enough that her smile falls.
“What are you talking about? Don’t tell me you’re superstitious.”
“I’m not superstitious.” Mostly. I don’t mention the socks I haven’t washed in several years that I’ve worn for every game.
“But, you think someone’s cursed you?”
“I know someone’s cursed me.”
Her lips teeter and then fall. “Oh, yeah?” She raises her eyebrows with a silent challenge. “Who?”
“An older lady who owns a shop downtown.”
“What’d you do to her?”
“Aren’t you supposed to presume innocence?”
Her eyes narrow. “I don’t know you well enough.”
“Pretty sure that stipulation isn’t in the Bill of Rights.”
“But it’s in my personal rules of safety and self-preservation.”
“Self-preservation? Worried you’ll fall so hard for me you won’t remember your own name? I’ll admit, it’s happened a time or two.”
Olivia takes a step back and rolls her eyes. “Exhibit A for why I’m asking what you did.”
“The details are a little fuzzy,” I admit.
She stares at me, her teeth clenched with a cringe—likely expecting the worst from me.
“I can’t be held fully accountable. My teammate Ian was the instigator.”
“Tell me you didn’t tease or mock her. I hate jerks.” Her eyes tug down, and her forehead bunches like hope and disappointment are at war.
“No. At least, I don’t think so. From what I can recall, my buddy ran into her.”
The grooves in her brow deepen. “That’s not so bad. Did you guys apologize?”
It’s my turn to cringe. “Well … she may have dropped a large ball because of it.”