“Star midfielder?”
“And now full-blown teenager,” Ren says. “He’s my neighbor.”
“No way.” I swipe another fry into the ketchup. Ren watches the movement before his eyes find mine again as I chew. “Was he already living in the building?”
It feels strange that I haven’t seen the apartment Ren moved into a few months after I left for New York. We’d made so many memories in his old place. Evenings out on the balcony, movie marathons on his couch, Wednesday night dinners. But when his roommate, a friend from college, relocated to Washington, Ren decided it was time to find a one-bedroom. I’ve only seen snippets of it in pictures,or when we FaceTime. It makes me feel one step further removed from his life.
“Moved in a month after me,” he says. “He’s applying for soccer scholarships.”
“That’s amazing,” I say. “I bet he loves having you as his neighbor.”
“He’d love you more. He’s super into film stuff. Always wants to talk about Hitchcock.”
I pause with another ketchup-laden fry halfway to my mouth. “Ren. You know about Hitchcock.”
“I know whatyou’vetold me about Hitchcock,” he says. He leans toward me, hands folded on the table between us. “I hate to break it to you, but I don’t really seek out slasher films. Not big on watching people get ripped in half or dipped in wax.”
“Hitchcock horror is different than modern-day horror,” I say. “I don’t want to watch, like,The Strangers. That’s all Stevie.”
“Face your fears, Joni,” Ren says.
I smile, let him win this round. “So,” I ask. “How are we feeling about the list?”
Ren looks a little wary as he sits back, fingers playing at the sides of his glass. “Honestly?”
“Honestly.”
“I say we scrap the list. If we see something we want to do, we can, but I think this last hour has been better than rushing around trying to fit everything in.” He flinches as he says it.
“Hey,” I say, an uneasy feeling coming over me. “Why are you looking at me like you’re scared?”
“Because I don’t want to disappoint you,” he says, tipping his glass up toward his mouth but not taking a drink. “I get it.”
“Get what?”
He gestures with his glass at the sidewalk, where people are still streaming by, at the river beyond. “The list. Trying to fit everything in. I don’t want to waste our time together either, but today…”
“Sort of felt like we were wasting it?” I ask.
Ren shrugs. “Yeah.”
“Well.” I grab a napkin, wipe away a drop of ketchup from my wrist. I wish I’d seen it earlier, wish we hadn’t wasted so much of our precious time together before coming to what seems like the now-obvious conclusion. And I don’t want to waste a minute more feeling that way. “I agree with you.”
“Forget the list?” Ren says, eyes hopeful.
“Forget the list,” I say, picking up my glass, extending it in his direction. “From here on out, we do what we want. The whole point is enjoying each other’s company.”
Ren presses the lip of his glass against mine, keeps it there. “Cheers to that.”
* * *
Once the sky turns pink, we head back to the hotel, drifting together and apart. The night is finally cooling down.
“Hey,” I ask as we wait at a crosswalk. “Did you ever ask your boss about an A&R position?” After enough to drink at the Tiki bar and beer garden, it just falls out of my mouth instead of the more tactful way I’d planned to raise the subject. I haven’t brought it up since we talked about it last summer. A&R isn’t the type of job Ren’s parents envisioned for him—a result of having two overachieving older siblings in more “traditional” fields—law and event planning—and even if he doesn’t verbalize it, I know that creates extra pressure for him. But Rendeservesto talk about it with someone. He deserves to have a cheerleader, to just be excited about what opportunity might be around the corner.
His eyes scan the street ahead for a minute before he looks down at the sidewalk, back up at me. “I did,” he says. “Just a couple weeks after you moved, actually.”
“And?” I ask, nudging him. “What’d he say?”
