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“That’s just it. Certain criteria have to be considered. All while the clock’s ticking.”

“When it rains, it pours,” said Georgie.

“And washes me away to New York City.”

Her eyes lit up. “You’re going?! When?”

“The week of the 23rd,” said Oliver. “I’m meeting colleagues there to discuss a possible loan from their collection.”

“The Big Apple. I’m envious!” Georgie rounded the last record rack, the cashiers only a few shoppers away. “You should visit Serendipity III while you’re there. They have a frozen hot chocolate to die for. It comes in this huge goblet. It’s almost too much for one person.”

Sweet-loving Oliver’s heart did a happy dance. “Shame you can’t come along.”

“No, that’s a good thing. I’m not always the best at sharing, ’specially when ice cream’s involved.”

“The bane of being an only child.” Oliver grinned. “If you think of anything else worth seeing or”—he chuckled—“eating, let me know. I’m really looking forward to it but haven’t had much time to research. The timing couldn’t be worse, actually.”

“Ollie, if you’re worrying about the presentation stuff, don’t.” Georgie stepped forward in line. “I can take the lead. I’ve already made detailed notes and arranged to meet up with Kait to start on the mourning robes.”

Of course she has. Fondness swelled in his chest.

“I’m also chasing down a book from the Reference Library. It has photos of carvings and reliefs from inside the pyramids.” Her focus swayed briefly toward a loud customer arguing with one of the cashiers. “It’ll be the perfect guide for her.”

“I’d loan you materials, but taking them out of the museum is a big no-no,” said Oliver.

Georgie waved him off. “It’s fine. This book has everything she’ll need.”

“Well, at least let me photocopy a few things for her. I can fax them over to your school if that’s okay?”

“Great!” She glanced down, shuffling through her CDs.

Grateful for her thoughtfulness, Oliver’s attention lingered, first on her long lashes, then the softness of her rosebud lips, lips he should’ve kissed that day on the subway steps. Regret wrenched his heart as he said, “You’re magic, you know that?”

Looking up, Georgie blinked into a smile. “Ollie, that’s so—thank you.” She scrunched her nose and opened her mouth as if to say something more but was interrupted by the cashier’s “Next, please.”

Georgie bounced her brows and headed to the counter. She struck up a conversation with the male employee about the demanding customer he’d just served. The ease with which she made others feel seen was one of Oliver’s favourite things about her.

But so was her honesty.

Friends. Oliver pined as her laugh, the sweetest music he’d ever heard, filled his ears.

He glanced at R.E.M’s Automatic for the People in his hands, his focus snagging on the CD’s fourth track “Everybody Hurts”.

His heart weighed heavily, the unrelenting ache of his yearning for the kind teacher torturing every breath. “Yeah,” he whispered to himself, “but some of us hurt more than others.”

* * *

Leaving Flash Jack, the head shop located below street level a few doors north of Sam’s, Georgie and Oliver trudged up its stairs, returning to the bright lights of Yonge. She dropped a small packet containing several sticks of incense into her tote alongside the red and white plastic bags holding their Sam’s purchases. “We used to shop here every Saturday as teenagers.”

Oliver widened his eyes as they turned right, heading away from the loud dance music spilling from a nearby strip club. “Really?!”

“Oh, not for drug paraphernalia!” Georgie laughed, reaching inside her tote again. “For posters and pins.” She pulled out the Lucky Elephant Popcorn. “They stocked British and Japanese imports we couldn’t find anywhere else.”

“The thrill of the hunt,” said Oliver.

“God, yeah! We’d scour Yonge from King Street all the way up to Bloor, going in every record and bookstore, every head shop. We’d hit the arcades, loiter around the Gardens for a bit, then grab a McDonald’s and head home before coming back down for that night’s game.” She tore open the top of her popcorn and tilted it in his direction. “Want some?”

“Sure.” Oliver shifted all their Canadian Tire shopping bags over his wrist and along his forearm to peer inside the box. “It’s pink!”