I looked at my watch. “Nine fifteen. Why?”
“I wanted to be back by nine thirty.”
“What happens at nine thirty?”
“This beautiful dress turns into a shabby rag.” She twirled around. I bent and threw her over my shoulder. “Oh my god, put me down!”
“No, princess. I’m getting you back by nine thirty.”
I busted through the door of Senior House and run up the stairs, with Grace hanging over my shoulder and punching my butt. I heard someone behind me say, “Dude, that chick’s wasted.”
I set her down right in front of her door, looked at my watch, and put my hands up. “Nine twenty-nine, baby.”
She high-fived me. “You did it! Thanks, buddy.”
I looked behind Grace to see a scantily clad girl in a jean miniskirt and heels. Grace turned around to follow my gaze. When she looked back, I smiled innocently at her.
“You like that? Is that your type?”
I leaned against her door and crossed my arms over my chest. “Not really.”
“Were you a player in L.A.?”
“Not at all.”
“How many girls have you been with?” Her expression fell serious.
“Is this a trick question?”
“I’m just curious ’cause you’re a good looking guy and . . .”
“You’re beautiful. Does that mean you’ve been with a lot of people?”
She huffed. “Fine, don’t answer the question.”
“I’ve been with a few girls, Grace. Not a lot.”
“Have you ever been with a virgin?”
I jerked my head back and noticed that her lip was quivering and her eyes were wide and earnest. “No. I’ve never been with a virgin,” I said. I lowered my head to meet her gaze but she quickly looked down and stared at her shoes.
I was very close to asking Grace if she was a virgin but I already knew the answer and I didn’t want to embarrass her.
“Well, I better get to practicing,” she said.
“Hold on one second.” I ran into my room and dug around before returning with Surfer Rosa & Come on Pilgrim by the Pixies. “This is a great album, one of my favorites. Track seven is the best.”
She read the title, “Where Is My Mind?”
“That’s the one.”
“Cool. Thanks, Matt. Hey, tomorrow after class”—she was hesitant—“I was gonna go up on the roof and study.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well . . . do you wanna join me? We can listen to music.”
“Yeah, let’s do it.”
“Okay, I’ll be done at three. I can make sandwiches?”
“That sounds great.” I gestured for a hug. As she wrapped her arms around my waist, I kissed the top of her head and smelled her lilac hair.
She pulled away and squinted. “Did you just kiss the top of my head?”
“Just a friendly kiss. Like this.” I bent and kissed her cheek. She stood still, her eyes wide. “Goodnight, Gracie.”
“Night, Matty,” she whispered as I walked back to my room.
GRACE AND I hung out practically every day after that, and a routine quickly formed. We would sell our blood and have pajama dinners and find other ways to save money. We studied together, and she played music while I photographed her. Her long blonde hair would fall across her face as she played with passion, tossing her head back and forth with the movement of the bow. It quickly became my favorite sight.
Throughout the fall and into the winter, Grace and I hung out a lot, mostly with her music friends. Brandon and Tati became our couple buddies, and though Grace and I weren’t a couple at all, it felt that way. Grace and Tati found ways for us to get free admission to all the museums, and they even dragged me to a free symphony. I thought Tati and Brandon were a little overly enthusiastic about listening to classical music for two hours straight, and I definitely thought they were going to kick me out for wearing jeans, but I was surprised by how much I liked it and how cool everyone was.
But as much as Grace was into music, she was always looking for stuff for me, too. She’d slip newspaper clippings under my dorm room door about photography exhibitions around town. We did everything we could to get out of the crappy dorms and the pervasive smell of fish sticks emanating from Daria’s room.