Ethan just sat there and laughed silently. I reached over and pulled his hat over his eyes.
“Apparently,” I said, “a boy and a girl can’t stand next to each other if they aren’t dating. Which we apparently are now. And, how did you so eloquently put it, Oliver? Boning? We’re doing that now too, according to some ballerinas. So maybe you should buy me a ring, just to cover all your bases.”
There wasn’t any real anger in my rant—joking about us dating made it okay. It made the idea seem more impractical, a little safer; if it was public domain, I didn’t have to take it seriously. And neither did anyone else. Especially not Chris.
“Already covered, actually,” he said. “I bought a few off of Tina. Didn’t know your size so I got an array. One should fit. If not, I know how to use a belt sander.” He gestured to my fingers. “I’m sure I can sand those down a size or two if the rings run small. I did take shop class, you know.”
“Such a charmer,” I replied. Though I had to look away and fight the rising blush—he’d looked me dead in the eyes when he mentioned buying a ring, and there was something in the gaze that made me think he might be serious. Maybe not about the marriage, but the rings, potentially.
Thankfully, I didn’t have to try to fill in the conversation. Ethan started asking Elisa questions about Marat/Sade and Jane piped in about her friend’s involvement with the tech department, so I was able to finish my waffles in relative peace and quiet.
It wasn’t until after brunch (and a heaping bowl of ice cream) that Chris pulled me aside.
“I’m sorry,” he said. We were on the path just outside the dining hall, and the snow was beginning to fall once more. Jane and Elisa and the boys were already ahead of us, running about and pretending to push one another in the snow. One good shove and those pretends would have consequences.
“For what?” I asked.
“For that ring joke,” he replied. “I didn’t really know what to say. But I know you’re not dating and I didn’t want you to feel awkward about it. Just . . . trying to make light of the situation.”
“Nah, I get it.” I started walking again, heading toward the art building. My stomach was flipping with every step, but I tried to keep it cool. “You handled it well. You’re funny, kid.”
We walked a little longer in silence.
“Would you . . .” he began, then trailed off. He coughed—clearly forced, but whatever—and tried again. “Maybe when you’re done with your thesis tonight we could hang out? I’ll just be in the painting studio finishing up work. And I have a feeling by the time you’re done we’ll both be ready to never look at art again.”
“What did you have in mind?” I asked. This was potentially a one-eighty from the I understand you aren’t dating thing, but I’d give him the benefit of the doubt.
“Well, Ethan said he and Oliver were going to be watching movies.”
I shook my head. “No no, we don’t want to interrupt that.”
He raised an eyebrow—it almost disappeared under his hat.
“It’s code,” I said. “For when he and Oliver need alone time.” I made sure to do air quotes.
“Oh! Well then. Um. I suppose that kills that idea.”
“How about this,” I said. “I’ll meet you in the studio and then we can go from there. Maybe you’ll treat me to frozen yogurt because I made it through my thesis without a nervous breakdown. Maybe you’ll treat me to extra frozen yogurt because I had a nervous breakdown.”
He laughed. It trailed off at the end though, and I realized we were both walking dangerous ground. Eggshells. Had Mandy had a nervous breakdown? How long was she battling the idea of killing herself?
“Sounds like a plan,” he said. “And thank you for the heads-up about Ethan and Oliver. I might have just dropped in on them.”
I laughed. “That would have been a sight worth seeing. Your expression, I mean. Not what you stumbled into. Unless you’re into that.”
He smiled.
“Not really my cup of tea,” he said. Maybe it was unconscious, but his eyes darted to me when he said it.
“Anyway, I need to head back to my room to get some stuff. I’ll be in the art building until dinner, most likely. So see you around?”
He nodded. We were outside of my dorm and there was this moment, this awkward as hell second, when it felt like we should go in for a hug, but that might have been misconstrued—do we go for a cheek kiss, a nuzzle, or do we keep the space? Crows sat on the roof of the dorm, watching. Waiting. As if they, too, wanted to see if I’d break my inner promise never to fall in love again. Before the moment could linger, I did what I always did and put on the charm and slapped him on the shoulder like a bro.
“Catch you on the flip side,” I said, and turned away before I could tell if he was disappointed.
The crows fluffed their feathers. They didn’t speak. Neither did Chris.