I sighed. “Maybe.” I let out a breath, knowing that I needed to talk this big thing out, even if it wasn’t easy.
“I also have an idea that might be weird.”
“How weird?” Nessa asked.
“One second,” Elise said and looked down at her phone. “It’s Dillon. He said we’d talk later. Is this okay? I can call him back.”
I looked at the eager faces of my friends and smiled. “We can talk about it later.”
Or never.
How could I bring up the fact that our friend—Nessa’s best friend now—had offered to be my rebound?
I didn’t even know what I wanted out of that.
No, it’d be better to keep it to myself.
At least until I figured out what I wanted.
If that time ever came.
Chapter 4
Pacey
“How have you never had chicken parm before?” Tanner asked. I shrugged, looking down at the very delicious-looking, cheesy and saucy concoction that my roommate had prepared.
“I don’t know. I’ve seen it on the tele, but I don’t think my mother likes tomatoes all that much. It wasn’t a thing we ate.”
Tanner shook his head and began plating our meals. “You guys are missing out.”
“It looks it.” I took the plate from him and passed it down the line to Miles and Dillon.
“I am a little spoiled with you and Dillon constantly making us food.” Miles groaned.
I grinned. “I know, right? We don’t even need to cook. We’re just in charge of dishes all the time.”
“Because the two of you aren’t allowed to cook unless it’s chopping cheese into cubes and putting crackers on a plate.”
“Thank God charcuterie is in right now,” I said dryly, and Miles snorted. “You can at least do that. Mine looks like a Lunchable that’s been tipped over.”
“That is true,” I said solemnly, and Miles flipped me off.
We made our way into the kitchenette rather than the formal dining room. The other area was a little too big for the four of us, but I was starving, so I didn’t care where we ate. We sat down and dug in, and I took my first bite. Spices and tomato and cheese burst on my tongue, and I groaned aloud.
“Dear God, where have you been all my life?” I said after I swallowed, and Tanner grinned.
“I told you you’d like it.”
Dillon shook his head. “And I didn’t dispute the fact that he would. You and I are going to have to find out what other things he’s missed over the years.”
“You act as if I haven’t lived in America for the past decade. Just because my mother doesn’t like tomatoes or pasta doesn’t mean that I have hidden from all food that’s not UK-involved.”
“You say that, and yet, in my head, you’ve only eaten fish and chips,” Dillon said and winked.
“Once you guys can make me decent fish and chips, we will talk. But don’t you dare bring me tartar sauce.”
“What’s wrong with tartar sauce?” Miles asked and then took a big bite of his pasta.
“We use malt vinegar, thank you very much.”
“I remember going to Epcot once,” Tanner put in, his voice low. “Mom asked for tartar sauce when we were in the England part, and they gave her such a look of shock for even asking that she went away and ate them without anything.”
I shook my head. “I thought Disney World was supposed to have the happiest people on Earth.”
“Maybe, but our trip ended with my mother annoyed that she couldn’t get what she wanted with the fish and chips.”
“Well, if you ever head over to actual England and not just the one in Orlando, Florida, I’ll show you around.”
Tanner snorted. “I don’t see that happening, buddy.”
I raised a brow. “You don’t want to spend time with me, then?” I asked, teasing.
“No, I don’t see myself able to afford a trip to England.”
I shrugged. “We can make it happen.”
“You’re not paying for me to go to England.” Tanner practically growled the words, and I nodded.
“Fine. Maybe I can stuff you in my luggage.”
“You could try,” Tanner said and then snorted. “Man, I’m a good cook.”
Tanner never really complimented himself or said anything about himself at all. The fact that we had not only gotten a childhood story and him mentioning some good things about his food out of him meant that Tanner was in a good mood tonight.
“Anyway, how are your classes going?” Dillon asked as we kept eating.
Miles shrugged. “They’re okay, I think. I don’t know how it’s going to be until the first exam. That’s how it is for me, anyway.”
Tanner nodded. “Sometimes, it’s the same for me. My goal is not to stay up late studying before the exam, though. And to keep up on my paperwork.” He snorted. “Let’s see if it happens.”
“I am taking two more labs than I thought I would, and they’re only one credit. But having consistent, four to five-hour times sitting in a classroom, working with my hands, I may need to start drinking more,” I said dryly.
“I never understood that about science labs. They take more time than the course itself and yet are only one credit. It’s ridiculous.”
“I have a feeling it’s because the people who assign those credit hours don’t understand what those labs are needed for. And the people who provide the material for it know, and might feel bad about the one measly credit hour, but they also know that you can’t move on to the next semester until you know certain things. Especially since we’re all entering the last semester of our junior year. We need to know these things so we can go off to grad school or start our careers. We can’t just hope we’re going to understand what we’re doing without actually learning anything.”
“You’re going to end up a professor, aren’t you?” Tanner drawled.
I shrugged. “I’m going to grad school. I think I want to go into industry, mostly because I like keeping a roof over my head and am accustomed to certain aspects of my monetary life.”
Dillon snorted. “Whatever you say.”
“I think I’ll know more once I’m in grad school. I have half a mind to go one way, yet the other part of me wants to work with my hands rather than in a classroom. I don’t know yet, and that bothers me.”
Tanner nodded. “We’re all at that point where we have to decide what we’re going to do with the rest of our lives. It’s not at all frightening,” he drawled.
“Not at all,” I agreed.
My phone buzzed, and I pulled it out of my pocket, wondering if it was my parents. They hadn’t contacted me since they told me about the divorce a week ago, but at a glance, I saw it wasn’t them. A small smile played over my face at the name on the readout.
“Who is it? Sasha?” Dillon asked.
“Sasha is sadly still with her boyfriend. We’re just friends.”
“Nessa, then,” Miles said decidedly. “Although I still don’t know why you don’t just date her,” he grumbled.