“I already get good use out of it!” he said. “I check the time!”
“Now we can also check in on each other.”
He harrumphed and changed the subject.
I find a tree that is stripped nude by winter but has wild, tangled branches that should make a nice background. Then I drop my backpack on the ground, hold my phone up, and smile for the camera.
“Thought you were camera shy.” I nearly drop my phone at the sound. “Or is itshyshy?”
I turn and find Luke standing behind me, looking awkward and beautiful and here.
“Sorry if this is weird,” he says when I haven’t spoken. “I was on my way to class, and I thought I saw someone who looked like you, so I turned around and ...” He runs his hand over his jaw. “Yeah—out loud, it’s all coming out much creepier than it seemed in my head.”
“No. It’s not weird,” I lie.
“I didn’t know you were ... here. I thought you said in September.”
“I changed my mind. I started in January.” I can see the wheels turning in his mind. If we’ve been on the same campus for three months, how have we managed to avoid each other all this time? The truth is, I’ve seen him, in the distance, walking with friends. One time he was nursing a cup of coffee over his laptop in the library. When you know to look for someone, it’s much easier to spot them than when you don’t know they’re even in the same town.
“Oh,” Luke says, and I can’t tell whether he’s hurt or surprised or relieved that I didn’t text or call him and say I was here.
“Well,” he says. “It’s good to see you. You look great.”
“You too,” I say, a lump forming in my throat again at our stilted conversation. It’s the conversation of two strangers who don’t know anything about each other. Or maybe it’s the conversation of two people who know too much about each other and have run out of things to say.
“I better get to class,” Luke says, and starts to go. I raise one hand in a wave and turn my attention back to my phone screen, trying not to spiral over this one meaningless meeting.
I’ve just sent the selfie to Ernie when I hear Luke’s voice again. “Actually,” he says, “I’m not really ... it feels weird to see you and then just go to class.”
My face warms, even though there is absolutely nothing embarrassing about what he just said. “Yeah, for me too,” I admit.
He rubs the back of his neck. “There’s this great fro-yo place not far off campus,” he says. “I mean, if you want. No pressure.”
I swallow. “Sure.”
We make small talk as we walk to Luke’s car in the parking lot of his residence complex. He tells me he’s changed his major to engineering, and I tell him I’m trying out nursing, but I don’t know if it will stick.
“You’d be a great nurse. You’re good at taking care of people,” he says.
I inwardly flinch at the irony. I didn’t take care of Luke, not while we were dating, not when Ro died, and not when Mel did. If anything, I’ve always been great at being taken care of. Especially by the Cohens.
When we reach Luke’s car, he puts our backpacks in his trunk. I climb into the passenger seat and he jumps in on the driver’s side.
A few minutes later we’re at the fro-yo store. I order first and quickly pay for my own yogurt so we don’t have a whole “who’s paying” thing, and Luke doesn’t say anything.
We settle at a table near the window. It’s a little cold for frozen dessert, but this whole encounter with Luke plus the indoor heating at Yo Yo Fro-Yo is making me sweat. I peel off my jacket, hang it on the back of my chair, and then tug down the long sleeve of my shirt as quickly as possible.
Except I’m not quick enough.
Luke leans forward across the table. “You got a tattoo?”
“Yeah. It’s nothing—just some words.”
“Can I see?” he asks, reaching out his hand and carefully pushing the sleeve back up my arm. I feel all kinds of lightheaded at his touch and exposed by the quiet way he studies the words that cover the dip between my arm and elbow.
Happy, grateful, well-dressed, brave,alive,the words say.
I see Luke swallow as he keeps staring at them.
