I knocked twice on the chipped wood. The old latch hadn’t caught completely; the slight pressure caused the door to drift open a few inches. A sliver of dim light spilled over my sneakers. Before I could lose my nerve, I pushed the panel the rest of the way open and stepped inside.
The room was quiet except for the metallic ticking of the ancient radiator in the corner. Aleksey sat on the edge of his bed in faded jeans and a worn gray t-shirt, elbows on his kneeswith his head buried in his hands. His phone lay face-up on the hardwood floor next to his boots, screen lit, the alarm app open to eleven-thirty.
“What do you want now, Karter?” Aleksey muttered. He didn’t even lift his head from his hands. His voice sounded scraped out and exhausted.
“How did you know it was me?” I stopped just inside the doorway. “You didn’t even look up.”
“No one else in this house stands in that hallway for five minutes trying to decide if they’re gonna turn the knob on my door.”
Fair enough.
I shut the door, sat down on the floor near his feet, and leaned my back against the cracked plaster wall. The takeout bag went on the bed beside him.
“You didn’t eat dinner,” I said.
Aleksey finally lifted his head. His eyes narrowed. “Are you tracking my meals now?”
“I don’t have a spreadsheet, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“That’sexactlywhat I’m asking.”
“No spreadsheet,” I said. “Just pattern recognition.”
“Pattern recognition.” He shook his head slowly. “God, you’re a pre-med nerd tracking when I eat. That’s even worse than a spreadsheet.”
“Eat the food, Aleksey.”
His glare held for another beat before the stiff set of his shoulders gave out.
He let out a long sigh. “I’ve got the AD breathing down my neck, and my mom texting me for help with rent. I need to be completely locked in.”
“I know,” I said. “I get it.”
“No, you don’t.” He scrubbed a hand hard over his face. “I tried to freeze you out. I tried to shut it all down completely. Andthen I spent half the team skate looking to see where the hell you were. I can’t afford to have you in my head right now.”
A long breath leaked out of me, the first full exhale I’d managed in days.
Still, I knew better than to offer up some bullshit, empty promise to magically fix his life, so I simply took out one of the styrofoam containers out of the takeout bag and nudged it against his thigh.
“Then, for now, don’t think about it,” I told him. “You don’t have to figure out the AD, and you don’t have to figure out the rent tonight.”
Aleksey’s head snapped toward me, his dark eyes hardening. “Real easy for you to say that. Just hit pause on the rent problem for the night. What’s a couple hundred bucks to a Johnston?”
The urge to pull out my phone and transfer him the cash was almost blinding. It would take two seconds. But I knew enough about Aleksey to know that was a bad idea. Handing him charity right now would be like lighting a match at a gas station; his pride would ignite, and he’d throw me out and lock the door.
So, I kept my hands off my phone and met his glare head-on. “I’m not saying the bill disappears. I’m saying you’ve got a night shift ahead of you, and starving on my floor isn’t paying your mom’s rent. So just eat the damn food.”
The fight drained out of him. We sat in silence until he finally relented, grabbed the food I offered him, and picked up the plastic fork.
For the first time all week, neither of us was waiting for the other to throw a punch.
Aleksey stabbed a fry with his plastic fork. A few nights ago, Matt left your door wide open.” He chewed, looking straight ahead. “I saw a busted skate lace tied to your bed frame.”
I furrowed my brow at the sudden change in topic. “You were staring at my bed?” I asked.
“Just the frame. What’s the story?”
“It’s from the first goal I ever scored.” I stole a fry from his carton. “I was a kid. I kept it.”
