“You can tell me, you know,” he adds, “if anything feels wrong. Even if you think you’re overreacting.”
I look at him, surprised by the intensity in his voice. “I know.”
“I mean it.” His eyes stay fixed on the road but his voice is softer now. “Any time, day or night. I don’t sleep much anyway—too many lab readings to monitor. So, if you ever need a ride, or just... someone to show up. I’m around.”
“I don’t need a bodyguard.” I turn to look out the window. “I can handle myself.” The words come out sharper than intended, loaded with all the hurt from spring break, from years of being protected from truths they thought I was too fragile to handle.
“Do you ever stop pretending?” Alfie’s voice is quiet, but sharp. Not accusing. Just... knowing.
My pulse stutters. But my laugh? My laugh comes easily. Too easily.
“I have no idea what you mean, I am thriving.” I stretch out the word like a punchline, flashing him my most dazzling grin.
He doesn’t smile back. He just waits.
I exhale sharply, shifting my rings around my fingers. Stupid rings. Stupid Alfie.
“Like I said, it’s fine.” My nails press into my palm, hidden in my lap. “I can handle myself.”
“I know you can.” I watch him now, the corner of his mouth lifts slightly. “You’re probably tougher than all of us. But you’d do the same for me, wouldn’t you? If I called at 3 AM needing help?”
The fight drains out of me. Because he’s right. I’d show up in my pajamas, half-asleep, no questions asked. Not because he needs protecting. But because sometimes, showing up is the only thing that matters.
“You don’t actually need backup though.” I point out. “You’re like... intimidating by default.”
He snorts.
The fluorescent lightsof Dora’s Diner are harsh after the dim bar. We order some food before we sit down since we’re both hungry. Alfie slides into the booth across from me, his eyes catching on my outfit.
“It’s weird seeing you like this,” he says.
I glance down at my uniform. “Not exactly my signature style.”
“That’s an understatement.” He picks up a menu he probably has memorized. “Though I did see those dinosaur socks peeking out of your shoes earlier.”
“Hey, those are my lucky socks! Each one shows a different period of paleo evolution.” I find myself grinning despite everything. “The T-Rex is my favorite, obviously.”
“Obviously.” His lips quirk.
A waitress brings over Alfie’s fries and my pancakes and I thank the pancake gods for fast service.
“When did that start? The whole fossil obsession?”
“Junior year of high school.” I steal one of his fries. “I always stood out. I was this kid who couldn’t decide what I was interested in. One week it was French club, the next Robotics. Then I remembered that trip to the history museum in London.” I trail off, remembering. “I insisted that my parents took me to the closest one to us.”
“Let me guess, you went home and started collecting rocks?”
“More like commandeered my mom’s garden for ‘excavation sites.’” I laugh at the memory. “Poor woman couldn’t plant anything without me examining it for ‘specimens.’ But it was the first time I felt like... like I’d found something that was just mine. Something that made sense. It felt like I was looking at clues, at keys to the past. I loved it.”
Alfie’s watching me with that intense look. “I get that. It’s how I felt first time I looked through my grandpa’s telescope.”
“Yeah?” I lean forward, genuinely curious.
“I guess I see them as clues or keys to the future.”
I grin.
“Yes! Careful, you’re starting to sound like me, you might accidentally become Tara 2.0.”
