My sister rolls her eyes, bested once again by an eight-year-old.
“I blame you, Uncle Griggs,” Nat calls after me, but I don’t turn around, don’t take the bait. My smile is no longer forced when I think of my precocious niece, when I hear Natalie mumble to herself:
“Merde.”
Chapter Eight
Maggie
I should be used to it by now, that leaving for the day is more like packing for a weekend vacation. But my upcoming exam and paper translates to extra supplies, which means an overloaded bag. Books? Check. A myriad of Post-its, colored note cards, and highlighters? Check again. Camera and my planner. I pet the top of my planner with sincere affection before fitting it into my bag. I was resistant at first to handwriting instead of putting my notes in my phone—until I saw how much more I remembered from the act of writing everything down. Now I’m a convert, or at least a hybrid.
My phone alarm sounds with my second reminder. If I don’t leave for the bus now, I’m going to miss it. And I’m thinking I should lay off the hitchhiking for a while.
Coat on, luggage over my shoulder, and I’m out the door and down the hall when I hear my name.
“Need me to lock up, Mags?”
Shit. Again? This weekend threw me off. He threw me off.
“Thanks, Paige!” I call over my shoulder to my neighbor. Why she’s always up when I leave is beyond me since she usually works nights, but I love her for it. Can’t imagine what I’d do if someone had easy access to my place. Never mind if something gets stolen, but mess with my organization or make me deal with change in the one place I never have to? I don’t think I could handle that.
I’m down the stairs and at the bus stop with minutes to spare, so I lean inside the covered depot and text Miles, apologizing for sleeping through our pastry-gorging Gilmore Girls session last night.
Me: What time did you leave?
Miles: Only stayed for one episode. Feeling better, sweetie? You were so out of it last night.
I barely remember answering the door to let him in. It’s been a while since a migraine like yesterday’s. Even after the meds kicked in, I was too wiped out to function, which also means I was too wiped to tell him about Saturday. Miles didn’t push, just let me doze while he popped in a DVD and hung out.
Me: Miss you. We’ll try again next Sunday?
Miles: Always , sweetie…but one thing I need to tell you…
The bus eases around the corner, and I scramble to find my bus card in my bag while not letting go of my phone. While Miles has a flare for drama, he’s not one to use it on me. But when the bus stops in front of me and he hasn’t followed up his previous text, I’m guessing he’s allowing for a dramatic pause.
I get on the bus, swipe my card, and fall into the nearest seat. Still no text, and I have no patience.
Me: WTF ? What do you need to tell me???
Miles: Shit. Sorry. Had to say good-bye to my guest.
I roll my eyes even though he can’t see me.
Me: You had a bootie call after you left me? It must have been midnight. Who ARE you? And tell me Andrew doesn’t say yes to you at that time of night?
I picture him laughing. It’s not like this is the first time we’ve had this conversation, because this is Miles. Miles loves everyone, and everyone loves Miles. It’s biologically impossible not to. There have been studies. His non-answer is the answer. I know he and Andrew are just having fun, but I find myself wanting to live vicariously through Miles, for him to find a happily ever after so I can sort of have one, too.
Me: Guy or girl? Wait. I don’t care right now. WHAT DO YOU NEED TO TELL ME?
This time his response is immediate.
Miles: He came to Royal Grounds yesterday looking for you.
I don’t need him to clarify. I do need to catch my breath and focus before I miss my stop. But my haste gets the better of me.
Me: Do I want to know more?
Miles: Do I need to know more? You left with him after closing and he shows up looking for you the next morning. Details, girl.
Me: Later. Tell me what he said. Plz.
Miles: Not much. But I think you did a number on him…and I think you should think about seeing him again.
I don’t date. I can’t date. Miles knows this. It’s too much right now. I have him. I have Paige. Everything nice and neat and uncomplicated. Griffin—God, just thinking his name is enough to throw off my concentration. I shake my head, trying to erase the lingering thought of What if?
It’s too late. I’ve already missed my stop.
Shit. I gather my stuff from the seat next to me and hurry off at the next corner, only a block from where I need to be. I stop on the sidewalk to respond one more time to Miles before I miss my biology exam.
Me: Missed my stop! Mention of a guy I spend a single crazy night with, and I can’t even get off a bus. That was me, thinking about seeing him again. Decision=no.
I pick up the pace as I approach campus but keep checking my phone for Miles to respond.