“Really? That’s awesome.” Scott sat back down beside her, and Tessa touched his arm to anchor him in place.
“I know. I’m excited.” She smiled at him softly. “I can’t wait till I can go visit you at your dorm. Then we can be alone. We won’t have to worry about my mom walking in on us all the time.”
Scott inched a little closer, matching her smile with a playful look of his own. “Your mom’s not here right now.”
“She’ll be home any sec.”
Now that was a bald-faced lie. Her mother wasn’t due back from work for hours. Why did she just do that? Why did she feel this flicker of anxiety whenever Scott even suggested the possibility of physical contact?
Scott must’ve known she was lying, but he didn’t press the issue. Instead, he turned his face away and slipped his phone out of his pocket. “I gotta get going soon anyway,” he muttered, distracted by a text message.
“What? Why? You just got here. Scott, please just give me a little more time…”
Tessa’s voice trailed off. He didn’t seem to be listening in any case. His full attention was directed at his phone. It pinged with another incoming text, and the corners of his mouth quivered as he read it. “Gimme a sec, babe,” he said without looking up.
Tessa gazed longingly at her own phone out of the corner of her eye. If he could check his messages, why shouldn’t she? Was she missing anything important? Probably another follow spree, knowing her luck.
She didn’t dare look. Not in front of Scott. Her time with him was way more important than Twitter anyway. This was real life. Her boyfriend. There had to be some way to salvage this pathetic excuse for a visit. “Scott, don’t go yet,” she said. “What time is it? Did you eat breakfast yet? We have some leftover sausage in the fridge if you want—”
“Nah, I’m meeting people for brunch.” He stuffed his phone back in his pocket and looked over at her hesitantly. “Listen, Tessa. I actually came here today to ask you something. Are you serious about leaving the house soon?”
“Yeah! Really, really soon.”
“Perfect.” He nodded enthusiastically, and Tessa felt a tightness in her throat. What was he about to ask? Maybe she shouldn’t have sounded quite so optimistic…
“Because there’s this thing I’m going to in a couple weeks. It’s a freshman rush event for Kappa Sigma. We’re supposed to bring a date. So I was kind of hoping, maybe—”
She cut him off with a sharp intake of breath. “Scott, what are you talking about?”
“I told you, I decided to rush a fraternity.”
“You want me to go?”
“Well, I told all those guys that I have a girlfriend. I don’t want them to think I just made you up or something.” His eyes left her face and drifted back down to her clingy tank top. “Anyway, I want to impress them. I was kind of hoping I could show you off.”
Tessa stared back at him, speechless.
“Come on, Tessa. I really need this. And you just said you’re basically ready.”
“I said soon! Not two weeks from now!”
“So by soon you meant more like two months? Two years?” His face darkened, and Tessa bent her arms protectively across her chest. She knew what she was in for next. Scott’s epic tantrums could put most toddlers to shame. He’d be red as an overripe tomato soon.
“Scott, it’s not like I’m doing this on purpose,” she said, still hoping to nip it in the bud. “I have a disorder. You understand that, right?”
“I know, I know. And I’ve been extremely patient about the whole thing. You can’t tell me I haven’t been patient, Tessa.” He raised his eyebrows meaningfully. They both knew he was talking about more than leaving the house. There’d been nothing between them all summer beyond a few chaste pecks on the lips. “I just need you to put in an appearance, so they see you really exist. That’s it. Is that really so much to ask?”
She shook her head. “Scott, I’m sorry. I wish I could.”
He glowered, and the mattress bounced beneath him as he stood. “Isn’t that what a relationship is supposed to be about? I’m here for you. I’m sitting here sweating my ass off in this slow cooker of a bedroom—and you’re supposed to be there for me too! Right? Or is that not how this works?”
“Scott, wait!” she called after him. “Don’t be like that. I’m trying. I’m making progress. Dr. Regan says—”
“Whatever, Tessa.” He waved a hand to silence her. “Forget it. Forget the whole thing.”
“Scott…”
“I’ll see you later. I need to get some air.” He headed for the door.
She lurched after him, but she stumbled. Her foot had fallen asleep from the hours of inactivity. “You’re coming back, right?”
“Of course I’m coming back,” he snapped. “I always come back!”
“Wait!” She reached out in his direction, hopping awkwardly. “Come here. Can I have a hug at least?”
Instead, he pulled out his phone to check his messages as he paused in the threshold. Tessa felt a twinge of irritation mingled with relief. She knew he was ignoring her, but she might just prefer his neglect to the usual drawn-out fight.
“Later,” he mumbled over his shoulder, typing a new text as he went. “I’ll see you later. I gotta go.”
5
BLANK SLATE
Eric set down his phone next to the black marble sink and stood to towel off his hair. He could feel the tension gathering at the base of his skull as he thought through the jam-packed day that lay before him. First his workout—and some publicist had the bright idea to schedule him for a radio call-in while he finished up on the treadmill, just to add to the fun. Then he had to rush off to hair and makeup so he could spend the afternoon on location at a poultry farm, shooting an ad for chicken nuggets. Never mind that he was a strict vegetarian…and never mind that he was supposed to be a musician. His reps at the record label seemed perfectly content to set those facts aside. The day that stretched before him wouldn’t involve a single finger on a guitar string.
His phone buzzed on the countertop with a new incoming text.
Maury: You’re late, cowboy. Where are you?
Eric closed his eyes. He couldn’t face it. He’d give anything to escape the nonstop grind that his life had become. Just for a day. Or not even a day. Just a few measly hours when he didn’t have to work.
He picked up the phone and wrote back:
Eric: New song idea! Christmas song. You’ll love it. I just need an hour to work it out.
He paused, holding his breath as he waited for his manager’s reply. “Come on, Maury,” he whispered to the phone. “One hour. Come on.”
The phone buzzed again.
Maury: You got 30 minutes.
Eric pumped his fist. Half an hour of freedom? He’d take it.