Mortified, I go back to fiddling with his books.
“It’s okay.” His laugh is gentle. “It did sound like I was asking you out. But don’t worry, I’m not looking to date or anything. I just thought you might want to hang out with me and some of myfriends. You know, do something a little different.” He dips his head and chases my eyes until I reluctantly focus on him.
“Different?” I hedge. “Different from what?”
He answers with an arched brow.
“So what do you and your friends do?” Besides house parties, Alderford doesn’t have much to offer. I can’t picture Leo hanging out at the pool bar or stuffing his face with beers and burgers at Mike’s Grill. Now Mountain Brew, the coffee shop, yeah. He looks like the type who camps out there until he’s covered in cobwebs.
He shrugs. “Eat, talk, maybe have a drink or two. Sometimes we play games.”
So maybe he’s not so different from Zander and the O-Chi’s after all. The brothers love to have Mortal Kombat and Call of Duty tournaments. But I’d bet an epic fantasy game would be more Leo’s style. “What, like Elden Ring?”
Uh oh. Blank look again. Suspicion confirmed: he’s definitely from Mars.
“You know, the video game?”
“Oh. No,” he laughs. “We usually play tabletop games.”
“So like Dungeons and Dragons and stuff like that?” I’m not a big fan; seems like a lot of work just to hear a good story. Why not just read a novel?
Leo’s amused—by me, I think. “Yeah, stuff more like that.”
How do I politely say no? Because even though I’m intrigued by the idea of doing “something a little different,” it’s not feasible. Let’s say I make an excuse and go hang out with Leo and his friends. It’s a long shot, but what if I enjoy it? What if I want to hang out with them again? My life is my classes, Zander, Liv, and parties. There’s no room for anything else, especially something so far outside my usual sphere. I picture myself telling Zander I can’t come over because I’m gonna go play board games with some other guy and his friends. He’d look at me like I’d lost my mind.
“Tell you what—” Leo takes a spiral notebook out of his backpack and starts writing on the first blank sheet. “This is where we’ll be.” He tears off a corner and hands it to me. I guess he’s never heard of a smartphone. “If you decide you want to join us, just come on over.”
“Um, okay.”
“After seven.”
I nod, staring down at the writing but not registering any of the words. I get this strange sense I’m holding more than a torn sheet of notebook paper; I’m holding possibilities. Some ominous, some exciting, some just plain weird.
“Okay,” I say again as I get to my feet. I jerk a thumb over my shoulder. “I should get back to my paper. It’s due tomorrow.”
“Good luck.”
“Uh, yeah. Thanks.”
He smiles and I can’t help but smile back. We look at each other just one beat too long before I turn on my heel and head for my carrel.
Once I’m a safe distance away, I peek at his note again. It’s written in a cursive so beautiful it looks like calligraphy.Avery Bauer, 1622 E. Main St., basement apartment.Avery? Is that a guy or a girl? And how did he/she/they get an apartment on East Main? That’s the street with the oldest houses, dating all the way back to the late 1700s. Most of them are stores and businesses, and they’re on the Register of Historic Places. Very few are rented out to students.
With a sigh, I fold the note and tuck it into the front pocket of my bag. Might as well put it out of my mind. Tomorrow night I’ll be hanging out at O-Chi, just like always.
I’m slouched on the beer-stained couch doing everything in my power not to think about Leo’s invitation, including making as much physical contact with Zander as I appropriately can. And even though Leo’s note, which I stupidly put in my back pocket, isnagging at me like it has claws, I haven’t glanced at the clock more than, oh, about a hundred times.
Liv is in the kitchen with Jenna, Mia, and some other girls, trying to make cocktails with the frat’s scanty collection of non-alcoholic beverages.
“There’s, like, hardly anything in here!” she whines, holding up an orange juice carton.
“So?” Trevor argues from the living room. “All you need is a splash.”
Liv mutters something under her breath, but Trevor isn’t paying attention. He and Zander just started their turn at Mortal Kombat. Zander leans forward and growls, heedless of my legs stretched across his lap.
His twitches and jerks translate to side-kicks and head-butts on the TV screen. “C’mere, bitch!”
“Yeah?” Trevor snarls back. “Take that, motherfucker!”
