Richard shakes his head, and she slides out of the booth. They’ve positioned themselves in the corner of the Grille farthest from the drinks machines. As she crosses the room, winding between tables, Richard notices one lone diner, a guy, checking her out. Haley seems oblivious to his gawking, and after she passes him, the guy redirects his gaze toward Richard. Rises and walks toward their booth.
Jordan.
He slips into Haley’s seat. “You’re just a one--man move--on--dot--whatever, aren’t you?”
Richard forces a smile. “I tutor her in math.”
Jordan laughs. “Didn’t look to me like any homework was going on.”
“You wouldn’t know what homework looks like. Anyway, what are you doing here? I thought everyone went to Main.”
Jordan’s expression clouds. “Yeah,” he says, drawing the word out slowly. “I can’t go there right now. Long story. We need to talk.”
Over Jordan’s shoulder, Richard watches Haley. She’s ordering something at the counter. “I’ll catch you later tonight,” he says. A little too quickly.
Jordan looks at him curiously, then turns, glances in Haley’s direction. “Okay, I see what’s going on here,” he says, twisting back and grinning at Richard. “Afraid I’ll interrupt whatever you’ve got going with your new little lady friend?”
Richard resists the urge to shove him from the booth. “You can imagine whatever you like,” he says easily. “But we’ve got a ton of calc to get through, so . . . beat it. I’ll catch you later.”
Jordan rises. Haley walks toward them now. She carries a tall water glass in one hand and two of those really good cellophane--wrapped M&M’s Rice Krispies Treats in another. Jordan has to pass her as he heads back to his table. When he does, he says something. Brief, just a few words. Doesn’t wait for a response, saunters on. Grabs his pack, shoulders it, and leaves the Grille.
When Haley sits, she passes Richard one of the treats.
“Friend of yours?” she asks, tilting her head toward Jordan.
“Housemate,” he replies. “What’s this?”
“Rice Krispies,” she says. “My favorite. Which means you get your very own.”
“The benefits of eating with a woman who doesn’t share.”
“You know it,” she says, unwrapping hers. She breaks off a chunk, pops it in her mouth.
“So, what did Jordan say to you?” Richard plucks at the thin plastic covering the treat.
Haley’s head snaps up. She looks startled. “What?”
. . .
The house begins to fill.
“Hey, you started without us!”
“Catch up, man.”
“Exley, you’re a genius.”
It’s the party before the party. The rev--your--engines part. The bring--it part. The part where they prepare themselves for whatever and anything and everything the night offers.
It’s almost enough. Almost.
. . .
13
Haley
“What?” Haley exclaims. Jordan? It’s like Richard’s Tasered her with the name.
Richard is having trouble with the cellophane on his Rice Krispies Treat. They pretty much shrink--wrap them for freshness.
“My housemate,” he says. “His name’s Jordan. I thought he said something to you just now.” He tries pulling, but the plastic won’t rip.
She reaches across the table and grabs it from his hands. She slides a finger beneath the folds of plastic wrap, plucks the treat free, and holds it out to him.
“Thanks,” he says, accepting it from her. He takes a bite.
“Jordan,” she repeats. “I always thought that was a girl’s name.”
“Could be both,” he says. “I like names that cut both ways. You know, non – gender specific? Taylor. Ryan. Francis. Although with Francis, you have to change the spelling.”
“I’ve never met a guy named Francis.”
“Frank,” he tells her. “Every Frank’s a Francis.” He takes another bite. “You’re right: these are good.”
“What’s Jordan’s last name?” she asks. Casually, she hopes. There could be more than one Jordan on a campus, right?
“Bockus,” he says. “Why?”
Shit. This isn’t happening. Never, in all Haley’s sort--of dealings with guys, has it been this easy. Like she’s known him forever. Once she’d gotten over the nerve--racking attractiveness of Richard Brandt (usually these sorts of crazy good looks mess with her, making her say even more stupid things), being with him is so comfortable. Like pulling on a pair of favorite, stretched--out jeans.
Except these jeans live in the same house as Jenny’s rapist.
Hang out with Jenny’s rapist.
“No reason,” she says. “I just ask random questions. Can’t you tell?” She smiles at him.
Richard isn’t buying it. “Did he say something rude to you?”
“Not at all. He just surprised me. As I passed him, he sort of leaned in and said, ‘Watch out for that guy, he’s a smart one.’ ”
Richard glances away from her. Drums his fingers on the table.
“Why? Is he the rude comment sort?”
“He thinks he’s funny.”
“But you don’t?”
“Let’s just say I’m not a fan,” he says. He breaks off another piece of treat but doesn’t put it in his mouth.
“Must be a drag to share a house with someone you don’t like.”