Christiana laughs with a lilt of amusement on the other end of the line.
“You? Responsible for flaming swords and knives and shit? Not a chance. You’re a bona fide klutz.”
“Pfft,” I snort, pursing my lips together in a scowl. “I am not. Trip over your own feetonetime in front of the Biochem classroom, and no one ever lets you forget about it!”
She belly laughs long and hard. “Well, tripping aside, you’ve proved that you can make animals disappear. Ba-dum-dum.”
I wince, crying out in a gasp. “Ouch, that was a low-blow.”
“Sorry,” she apologizes. “Too soon to joke about Blackie running off?”
I plunk down on a kitchen island chair, twisting my head to find the dog in question sleeping soundly on his bed in the living room. I’ve been paying him extra attention and showering him with treats today, but I still feel a pang of guilt.
“Yes, too soon. You’re just plain cruel,” I grumble. “It’s bad enough that Miles was so rude and mean last night. I can’t believe he’s the same guy that kissed me.”
I’d told Christiana all about it the minute I called her, sharing the details of the last time I’d seen or spoken to Miles, that he didn’t remember who I was when he saw me, and then how demoralizing his words were to me.
He used to be such a nice guy. Now he acts like a stuck-up jerk.
Christiana blows out a breath from the other end of the line.
“Obviously, I can’t speak for him or his intentions since I wasn’t there. But maybe cut him a little slack. No one ever knows what’s going on in someone else’s mind.”
I snort. “Did you just read that straight from one of our psychology textbooks?”
Christiana and I have been friends for years now, both in the same grad program at NYU. I initially lived with her and her roommate last summer, which helped me save money for the school year and room and board but chose not to this summer for several reasons.
One, I love Christiana with all my heart. She’s an incredible friend and brilliant woman, but she is a slob. Plain and simple. I just couldn’t deal with the mess she left behind in all our shared spaces. And being that I was the couch-crasher in our living arrangement, I had no right to call her out on it since it wasn’t my apartment.
The second reason was her obnoxious roommate, Nadine. She thought she was the Queen Bee and the overlord because her father owned the apartment and therefore dictated how things were to go. I’d asked Christiana at one point how in the world she put up with Nadine’s bitchiness, to which she replied, “It’s all about the money. I only pay a fraction of the cost, and it beats living at home with my brothers.”
Enough said.
Christiana has three brothers, and they are always trying to get involved in her business. They’re the worst. Plus, renting in New York City is beyond expensive. That’s why this summer, two weeks prior to the end of my spring semester, I’d asked my cousin if I could crash with him until the fall. My scholarships and grad student stipend are enough for tuition and expenses for the school year but doesn’t cover the summer months when I’m not in school and need a place to live. And my job at Rags & Tags doesn’t bring in enough to pay for rent and other expenses on its own.
Thus, I’d been desperate to find a secondary summer job that worked with my variable schedule and one that affords me the luxury of things like food.
That’s how this entire dog-sitting arrangement fell into my lap, if you follow. Ben, who is several years older than me and the son of my mother’s cousin, is the one who recommended me to his boss, Graham, when he learned they needed a last-minute pet sitter.
Fate seemed to intervene, in more ways than one. Because here I am, facing this highly unusual reunion with Miles.
“Sutton, don’t make it about you, sweetie,” Christiana commiserates. “It was just the wrong time, wrong place. Maybe Miles has some serious matters weighing on him, and with the drama of evacuating and whatever else, he lashed out at you. And look, it all turned out fine. No harm, no foul. You have heard nothing from him today, right?”
I heave a sigh. “Not yet. I did just get a response from Soraya saying, ‘thanks, having fun.’ But I still feel like there’s a knife hanging above my head ready to drop the moment Miles says something to Graham. I mean, you didn’t see him. He was so angry with me. That’s why I want to do something nice for Miles to show him I appreciated his help. But I don’t want it to come across as a bribe for him to keep quiet.”
“Hmm, I see what you mean. It’s a precarious walk along a tight rope. Well, maybe you should make something to bring over to him as a show of gratitude and leave it at that.”
“That might work. It’s easy, a nice neighborly thing to do, and it doesn’t suggest that I’m being pushy or threatening him to keep his mouth shut about what happened.”
“Right,” she agrees. “If you wanted to threaten, you’d use one of my brothers. They’d get your point across.”
The timer on the oven beeps, and I choke out a laugh. “Yes, let’s keep your Guido siblings out of this, shall we? Hey, I gotta run. But thank you for your advice. I’ll let you know how it goes.”
“No problem, sweetie. And who knows? Maybe if the food doesn’t work, you can offer something else in exchange. He might enjoy eating something else.” She chuckles darkly, and I gasp in mock outrage.
“Keep me posted, babes.”
I end the call and remove the quiche from the oven, feeling a little lighter, and less like the ball will drop at any moment. Maybe if I can talk to Miles again, offer him my gratitude, and mention our shared history and get him to remember the kiss we shared, he’ll be kinder toward me and less likely to narc on my mistake.
