“I would feel better if you took my car.” He grabs his keys from the island and holds them up, making sure I see where he’s leaving them—as if it would be an issue for me to find something sitting right in front of my face. I stifle the urge to roll my eyes. “I’m already late, I’ll hitch a ride with Ezra.”
I recognize the name because Ezra Birkner is also one of my professors. “That seems like an unnecessary inconvenience for both of you when I havemycar to take.”
“It’s no big deal. We carpool often.” He’s not looking me in the eye now, seemingly preoccupied with filling his mug with coffee while simultaneously typing something on his phone—a text to Professor Birkner, I assume.
Yet, I can’t help but feel that he is deliberately trying to avoid looking at me, and then it dawns on me. “You think my car is unsafe.”
Come to think of it, Jack has had everything I could possibly need delivered since the day I started. At first I thought it was because he was thoughtful, but now I am wondering if it might be because he doesn't want me to have to drive her anywhere.
He opens the fridge and pulls out a container of creamer, still not making eye contact. “No. Iknowyour car is unsafe.”
“It isnot.” I am genuinely offended. I worked hard to save up all five thousand dollars I paid for that car. It was my first real grownup purchase. I realize it’s not the nicest, but it is reliable and I have it serviced regularly.
Now he looks at me. “Quinn. If someone hits you in that thing, there’s a solid chance it’ll end up a twisted hunk of metal.”
Sienna is finished with her bottle now. I place it on the countertop more roughly than I intend and the sound of it smacking against the granite cuts through the space between us. “It was a Consumer Reports top safety pick,thank you very much.”
“Yeah.” He puts the creamer back in the fridge, wholly unaffected by my small outburst, and turns to face me. “In 2005.”
I release a sound of indignation. Sienna takes it as an opportunity to take my bottom row of teeth into her tiny fist and yank downward. I gently remove her hand and kiss her fingers. “My jaw does not unhinge, cutie girl. Quinny is not a boa constrictor, but thank you for trying.”
Jack snorts a laugh as he comes over to kiss her chunky cheek before heading toward the door. “Take my car. I’ll see you both around five.”
The door closes behind him and I’m left to stew in my own annoyance. I’m charmed that he is so attentive and caring,but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to stop somewhere for window chalk so I can draw a giant peen on his back window.
My car isfine.
And whatever the slime that’s oozing and swirling in my stomach right now, it’s not because I’m smitten.
It’s hyperacidity.
Or something.
11
CHIVALRY, OR SOMETHING
QUINN
History of Psychologyis my only in-person class this semester. I’ve always been incredibly thankful that in my four years at Cypress, most of my classes have been available online. It’s what has allowed me time to juggle going from one full-time job to the next.
While I appreciate online learning for the flexibility, it’s kind of refreshing to be in a classroom once a week. Actually getting to see faces and have real discussions is a nice break from the virtual grind of monotonous lectures and neverending assignment lists.
I can’t say I don’t feel sketched out at times when I am in person, because I have no idea which of my peers may or may not have had something to do with my dad’s murder.
As a postgraduate next semester, I won’t have the option to remain mostly online—which will make holding down a fulltime job on the side fairly impossible—but I will haveDaddy’s moneyat that point and I’ll be able to live quite comfortably through both my master’s and PhD.
Sometimes I consider leaving Cypress for the rest of my education. Not because I don’t love it here, but because I feel anxious to be as far away from reminders of my father—andthose who seem to still worship him—as humanly possible once this school year ends.
But leaving academia is not something I ever intend to do and staying in Hallow is more than ideal when I don't consider all the baggage I have accumulated over the years. It’s been my home for my entire life, and if nothing else, I find a small amount of comfort in the familiar.
Thinking of the future gives me a sick feeling that has never been there before, and I am certain that it comes from knowing that once I move on to the next portion of my education, I will also have to move on from Sienna. And as much as I don’t want to admit it, Jack.
I know this is ridiculous because I have been with them for such a short time, but when I hear Jack’s booming laugh from around the corridor the sick feeling turns to something more heated andtingly.
It reminds me that being in his space for only a semester and a half is probably for the best.
I steel myself because I have no choice but to pass by him to get to the exit I’m heading toward. I don’t know why I’m so nervous but interacting with him in this setting feels strange. Saying hi and moving on is not an option, mostly because I want to know what he’s doing here and who is with Sienna. I assume her Grammy, but I am curious nonetheless.
