Page 25 of Uncovered


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“Grumpy?” I suggest.

He laughs. “That’s a nice way to put it. Anyway, I just wanted to make sure things were going ok so far. You like your classes and your roommate and all that, you know?”

“Yea, well, thanks. And things really are ok. I hit a bit of a rough patch, but it’s been a good day, so I’m taking that as a good sign.”

“Good, that’s good.” He nods. “Not that you had a tough time, just that you’re, you know, getting back on track.” He leans back, resting his elbows on the step above, just as I do the same. Our hands brush again, and he threads his fingers loosely through mine, then pulls back as though realizing what he’s done--like it’s a crime to hold my hand. I’m about to call bullshit when I hear Melanie yell my name from the street. “Phoebe, my lovely roommate, check your phone. I messaged you twice. Well, ok, like twice in the past two minutes, but still.” She runs up the steps and stops short when she sees I’m not alone, though Ty’s now standing a good two feet away from me.

She looks at him skeptically. “Ty, the tour guide, right?”

“Uh, yea. And I’ve seen you at the coffee shop.”

“Yep--you’re the Americano with no foam.”

“Yea, that’s me. Listen, I should go, but it was good seeing you, Phoebe. I’m glad things are going well. Take care, ok?”

“Yea, you too. Have a good night,” I call lamely as he walks away.

“What the hell was all that? Never mind, don’t answer that. We’re meeting Ian for pizza and I’m starving, so come on. You can tell me all about Ty, the hot guy, and what exactly he was doing on our doorstep on the way to dinner.” She takes my hand, turns me around, and we head in the direction I just came from. But I don’t protest because it’s been a day and pizza sounds good.

***

Ty

I watch as Phoebe and her roommate walk away, before turning to head in the opposite direction. I walk toward my house, cursing myself with each step. I’m an idiot for even showing up on her steps like some kind of weirdo. Who does that? I should have kept my distance, but ever since Knox told me about her panic attack at the party last night, I haven’t been able to think of anything else. Honestly, Phoebe’s never too far from my thoughts. I’ve grown more attached to her than is likely healthy. But her personality is magnetic--she draws me in. Her laugh, her smile, the way she looks at me like she’s about to call bullshit on everything I’ve just said. I’m hooked, and I have no right to be.

If she were anyone else--hell, if I were anyone else--I’d still be on that step holding her hand and talking. Or curled up on her bed, running my hand along her soft, subtle curves. Or walking her to class like a lovesick fool. I’m not much of a relationship guy, at least I never have been, but Phoebe’s different.

And also, Phoebe’s different. As in, completely off-limits.

I lost my mind there for a minute, holding her hand, smiling like I have nothing in the world to worry about other than making her smile in return. Jesus. I’m an idiot. But it won’t happen again. I’ve seen for myself that she’s fine, so this is it. I’ll leave her alone from now on. I have no reason to be all the way out by her dorm anyway. And like I said that first day we met, we have no classes or friends in common. The likelihood of us crossing paths again is slim. Well, except for the coffee shop. But fuck that. I’ll buy a fancy coffee maker and watch a million YouTube tutorials to learn how to make it. Because no matter what, I need to keep my distance, so I can keep my sanity.

***

The hum of the air conditioner whirs above me, the lone sound in the writing lab.

“Is it always this dead in here?” I ask Megan, one of the grad assistants who runs the tutoring center, as she lounges on a sofa in the back of the lab. It’s Monday, and we’ve seen two people so far. One guy was lost and thought he was in the library. And someone else wanted to make an appointment for tomorrow night. And the place wasn’t teeming with people last week either.

Megan puts down the book she’s been reading. “Well, we’re only a few weeks into the semester. But, yea. This is kind of a dead zone. All the morning people have been to class and come for help. And the late sleepers are just starting their day.”

“Makes sense, I guess.” I look at the near-deserted space, empty except for Katie, another tutor, who’s helping one of the hockey players with a presentation for his marketing class.

“Don’t worry, Ty. I’m sure someone will come in today needing you to decipher Shakespeare. Just like I know a business major will walk through those doors looking for help with their resume, or some sad sack of freshman looking for help with an intro class. For now, feel free to study or read. Just keep an eye on the door and be ready to assist anyone who comes in.”

“No problem,” I assure her. The schedule is set up so that we can each specialize in our chosen area. Megan takes the intro courses and business writing; Katie takes all non-English courses. And I’m the resident expert on British and World Lit.

“I’m going to head over to Drip for some caffeine, if you don’t mind holding down the fort? Can I get you anything?” she asks.

“Nah, I’m good, but thanks,” I decline, glad for the time to work on my Contemporary Lit paper. I grab my well-worn copy ofThe Kite Runner,flipping through to chapter nine to pick up annotating where I left off.

It takes me no time at all to get lost in Hosseini’s words. The rain is pouring down as Ali and Hassan leave Baba’s house, and I’m damn near on the verge of tears because I can’t reach through the page and punch Amir in the face like I want to. I’m halfway through scribbling notes in the margin about characterization and foreshadowing when I hear a soft voice say my name.

When I look up, I’m staring directly into Phoebe’s eyes.

***

Phoebe

“Ty? Is that you? What are you doing here?” Why in the world would Ty, the English major, be here at the writing lab? Shouldn’t he be a pro at this stuff? Unless...