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My phone immediately rings again, as I’m sliding out of bed.
“What, Clair?” I answer it again.
“You didn’t tell me where you are!”
“I stayed over at Paxton’s house.”
She lets out a shriek of glee. “I’m in love with love!” she sings out. “Ruby and Paxton, sitting in a tree...”
“I’m really hanging up now,” I tell her, and do that.
I go use Paxton’s restroom, brush my teeth with the extra toothbrush that I find in his cabinet drawer because my mouth tastes funky, wash my face, and then, somewhat refreshed and awakened, I pick up my clothes off the floor. It takes some disentangling, and there’s a rip in my blouse, and I can’t find my underwear, but I manage to make myself decent.
Yawning again, I look at the wall clock. Ten a.m. I never sleep that late.
Following the smells of coffee, I wander into the kitchen.
Paxton is spreading out a glorious feast for the two of us.
He’s got my coffee already poured, and he’s done it the way I like it—light—and he’s probably remembered to put in two sugars.
This feels comfortable. This feels right. I could get used to this.
And that terrifies me.
I could get used to it. I could come to depend on it.
I sit down at the table across from Paxton and take a long sip of coffee, then set my mug down. He’s diving into his omelet, eating with enthusiasm.
I look at him. “Paxton, what are we doing?” I ask him.
He chews and swallows before he answers. “Do you need a talk about the birds and the bees? Maybe I should have led with that last night. When a man and a woman like each other very much...”
No, I’m not going to let him joke his way out of this one. “But really, Paxton. When I graduate, I’m probably going to move. I might not stay in New York. I want to travel for a while, and then I want to work in publishing. I have no idea where in the world I might end up, and you’re tied to the Rovers. I mean, you love the Rovers too. This is your place. I don’t know where I’ll be.”
I gulp down more coffee.
Paxton gives me a look of bemusement. “Why do we have to worry about that at all? You’re borrowing trouble from the future. You and I are having a good time, aren’t we? Just enjoy life. Don’t stress.” He takes a big bite of cheese omelet.
“That’s easy for you, Paxton, but I’m not you. Do you know why I study my ass off? Do you know why I tiptoed around when the professor dumped me and threatened to tell everyone I was a crazy stalker and get me expelled? I’m going to school on a full scholarship, and I can’t afford to screw this up.”
“Ruby would help you if you ever needed it. And obviously I would, although I feel like you wouldn’t accept if I offered.”
I frown. “I would appreciate the gesture, but I couldn’t let you. Yes, I know my sister is making great money and dating a very wealthy man, and no, I would never take a cent from her. I already took too much from her when our parents died.”
I look at all the delicious food spread out in front of me.
“Eat,” he urges, and I do, taking a bite of a bagel, but just to be polite. My stomach is squeezing in on itself. I feel like I’m about to have a panic attack, and I haven’t had one of those in many years.
“So,” he continues. “What does your perfect life look like?”
No guy has ever asked me that before.
I pause to consider my answer. “Well, after I travel around Europe, I want to write poetry, even after what Professor Nass-hole did to me, and I want to publish it. I want to reclaim my voice. I also want to teach writing and literature to disadvantaged kids, because it can give them their own voice, and open up new worlds to them. I want to make the classics accessible to them, and also more modern books that are relevant to their lives. I’ve actually thought of trying to get funding to start a small publishing house for books written by kids.”
I look at him to see if he’s going to burst out laughing. He’s nodding in understanding.
“That all sounds great. So what’s the problem?” he asks.
