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Colin’s mouth thinned. He folded his napkin into his lap, once, twice, three times. “People deserve happy endings and not enough get them. That’s all I mean.”
The arrival of their food put an end to the conversation. Allison watched Colin organize his plates of appetizers, disappointed that she hadn’t been able to press him further. Though she hated to admit it, she’d wanted to hear what he meant by that last comment. Who didn’t get the happy ending they deserved?
He couldn’t be talking about them, right?
Thankfully, the delicious scents coming from her plate offered a welcome distraction. Grabbing her fork, Allison dug in and quickly discovered she’d made an excellent choice. The drunken noodles’ sauce had that perfect balance of heat, sweet, and salt; the flat noodles were tender; and there were so many vegetables (including those little baby corns she loved).
With her second bite, she accidentally groaned with pleasure, and Colin’s head jerked up. “You sure seem to be enjoying that meal you say you eat all the time.”
“Shut up.”
Colin snorted. Then he reached across the table to set a spring roll on her plate.
Allison’s gaze jumped from her dish to his face. “What are you doing?” He might as well have grabbed her hand and pressed it to his mouth given the way her heart was thumping.
“You love spring rolls.”
She did. So much. And when they’d dated, he’d never given her one unless she’d asked.
Allison’s bones felt like they were crumbling.Thiswas what she couldn’t do. This was why they needed distance, why they shouldn’t be out sharing a meal like it was a date and laughing over old times like they were pleasant memories. Spending time with Colin was quicksand. A riptide. A tornado. It would swallow her up. And take everything Allison wanted, everything she’d worked for, and dash it to pieces.
It was easier—safer—for her heart (and her future) if Colin remained a villain. Otherwise, she risked a repeat of sophomore year. Except, at Claymore, there were no second chances.
“Colin.”
He sighed. In his fingers, he spun a cup of plum sauce. “I know. We can’t go back.” When he glanced up, his eyes snagged hers. Their table was small enough that they had to concentrate to keep their knees from bumping, and so close, Allison could see every glint of bronze and green in his irises. A cache of coins and emeralds. A trap like dead man’s treasure. “But sometimes, I”—he was whispering, and she had to lean in to hear him—“I wish we could go forward instead.”
So do I.
The silent words were a blast to her chest. Allison couldn’t want this. She needed to go. Without guards, a thick titanium wall, and at least three sets of hazmat suits between them, Colin was a danger to be around.
Glancing at her phone, she decided on her typical escape hatch for bad dates and other social emergencies. Swiping open a three-day-old text from Sophie, she muttered, “Shit. Sophie needs me. I have to go.”
“What?” Colin gaped up at her.
She dug in her purse for some cash and tossed it on the table. “Help yourself to my leftovers.” She’d barely had three bites.
“What about the talk?”
“You go.” With that, she left.
As it turned out, a positive side effect of that horrible lunch with Colin was that Allison’s desire not to think about him outweighed her wish to avoid her father and his email.
Her entire drive home, she’d had to actively work to keep Colin’s words out of her head. Like a game of Whac-A-Mole, they kept popping up, forcing her to punch them down again.
I wish we could go forward.
People deserve happy endings.
No. No. NO. She shoved each memory away. What was he doing? Was he angling for them to get back together? Did he not remember how much they’d argued? Or the way things had ended? How he’d dumped her without warning?
They were done. There was nothing left between them except Wendy’s class. And the advisee position over which they were competing.
As Allison mounted the stairs to her room, she whipped her phone out of her pocket and brought up Jed’s email. She needed something big to squash these Colin thoughts.
She read her father’s dismissive words once, and then twice, letting the anger boil into her veins. Sitting at her desk, Allison folded her legs beneath her on her chair and summoned her monitor’s glow. No more agonizing over this. Jed deserved anything she had to say to him.
“Whatever you write, you send,” she told herself. She needed to resolveonething today. It wasn’t going to be teaching and clearly wasn’t going to be Colin, so her father would have to do.
