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I roll my eyes. “She told me she watched theAmerican Idolfinale with you last week. I know for a fact that didn’t end until eleven.”
“Whatever. At least it wasn’tThe Bachelor.Maureen would have had that cued up for the two of them to watch together.”
I’m standing outside now, leaning down to speak to him through my door that’s still open. “You’re exaggerating. I love that lady. She’s a spitfire.”
“A spitfire. Is that a nice way of saying she’s a hellion who won’t listen to anyone?”
He’s smiling and I’m enjoying this banter, enjoying this easy back and forth with Leo way too much.
“Hey,” he looks past me, “I think someone is waiting on you.”
I turn to see a bundled-up Pilar waving at me from just few feet away. “Sky, I thought that was you.”
Looking back to Leo, I do my best to smile through my disappointment. “Thanks for the ride. I’ll see you Tuesday at around ten-thirty?”
“See you then.” As I turn to go he calls after me, “And thanks for today. I’m glad I got to meet your family. They’re great.”
I nod, fighting back the flood of emotion brought on by the reminder of family. There’s gratitude and grief associated with the word.
“Hey, girl.” Pilar greets me with a smile and a hug. And it’s good when she pulls me in close. The contact is something I desperately need at the moment and it gives me the additional few seconds I need to compose myself.
“What are you doing all the way over here on this side of campus?”
“A friend of mine, Ghislaine, lives here. She’s a French Literature major. Do you know her?”
“Is she an international student?”
“Yes.” Pilar smirks. “She’s from Lyon.”
“I’d say she took the easy way out with that major but plenty of native English speakers major in English Lit.”
“Good point.” Pilar shivers as I fiddle with my key card. “But she’ll freely admit to taking the easy way out.”
“I haven’t met her. I’d remember that name. Do you only associate with glamorous people who have international jet-setter type names?”
“Mais non, Skylar! Idohang out with you.” She pairs that dig with a hip check.
Climbing the stairs, she asks, “What’s the story with that guy who dropped you off?”
I turn back with a raised eyebrow. “The story?”
“Isn’t he that guy…The one who…I know I heard him speak at some professional development lecture series last year. It was on patent acquisition.” She’s laughing when she says, “I remember sitting there lost in a fantasy of that man mauling me in some dark empty classroom. Everyone said it was really informative but I barely heard a word he said.”
“You’re an engineering major?”
“Mathematics.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“I was just tagging along that day with Devon. So what’s the story?”
“No story. I babysit for his daughter. His name is Leo Hale. And he probably was the speaker. I know he does something with patents and he’s involved with the engineering department’s research in some way.”
“Leo Hale…Yeah. Devon was saying he secured his first patent for some polymer-based sealant used in auto manufacturingbeforehe finished his undergrad.”
“Wow.” I try to play down my reaction and come off as neutral. “That’s impressive.”
“He looks like a hot lumberjack. Mmm…So much intelligence packed into that manly man.” We’re standing at the other end of my hallway. “What’s he like?” she asks, and I think on that loaded question as she’s knocking on her friend’s door.
