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“Pretty much.” She pinched the little straw from her drink again and stabbed at an ice cube. “I’m good at math, and after the first year, none of the courses were before noon. Seemed like a good deal at the time.”
“What if you could do it all over again? Without your mom hanging over your shoulder. Would you pick something different?”
The question barely computed. Zoe’s parents had always had strong opinions about her life. After her dad had died, her mom had become even more aggressive in trying to control Zoe’s future. She’d clearly been grieving. Zoe had been, too. She’d fought back about some things, but on others, she got worn down and just got used to going along.
“I don’t know,” she said quietly. “Maybe? There wasn’t anything I was super passionate about at school.”
“Was there anything you were passionate about outside of it?”
“Not really.” Usually, when people asked her questions like this, it made her uncomfortable, but Devin’s expression was so open as he gazed at her. He’d known her practically their entire lives, but it felt like he actually wanted to know more. So she dug deeper. “I liked normal stuff—hanging out with my friends, watching TV.”
“Making friendship bracelets.”
“Shut up.” She flapped a hand in his general direction as if to swat at him. Her cheeks flushed warmer.
One corner of his mouth lifted. “I still have mine.”
“You do not.” Oh wow. She’d made them for everybody one summer. She’d found a ton of old embroidery floss from some kit her mother had never finished. Bored, she’d gone to town.
She’d picked the colors for the one she’d given to Devin so carefully. Blue for his eyes, orange and brown for the Blue Cedar Falls team colors. Red for the hearts she secretly drew around his name in the back of her diary. Because she was super, super cool and not a dork at all.
“I do,” he promised, and for some reason, she actually believed him.
Her throat tight, she looked down at her drink again. Silence held for a second. Then she continued. “But yeah. Just normal teenager stuff, mostly. I mean, I liked volunteering at Harvest Home, too, but if I’d told my mom I wanted to work at a nonprofit or go into social services or something, I think she would have flipped her lid.”
“Did you ever try?”
“What? No.” The idea had never occurred to her.
But maybe it should have.
That was too much food for thought for this late into the night, though.
“How about you?” she asked. “You said construction was sort of something you fell into. Did you ever think about doing anything else? Going to school?”
The question seemed to take him off guard. Furrows appeared between his brows. She wanted to reach over and smooth them out, but even with the soft intimacy that somehow surrounded them now, it felt like too big of a line to cross.
“You mean college?”
She nodded, sipping at her drink.
“Sort of?” He lifted one shoulder before setting it back down. “Mrs. Jeffries in the guidance department thought I should, but it was never in the cards for me.”
“How come?”
“Money.” He said it without any bitterness to his tone. “There’s a reason I started going to Harvest Home, you know.”
Right. Crap. “Sorry—”
“It’s fine. I could have maybe gotten financial aid or something, but I needed to be out on my own.”
“I can drink to that.” She lifted her drink, and he clinked his glass against hers before taking a deep pull at it and setting it down.
He still seemed calm, but a familiar stiffness settled into his shoulders. A far-off look came into his gaze. “My mom died when I was young, you know. Really, really young. I don’t even remember her. But my dad—he was…”
As he searched for words, Zoe sat up straighter. A girl couldn’t hang around her big brother and his best friend all the time without overhearing some stuff. She knew Devin’s home life wasn’t great, but he’d never talked about it in front of her directly.
“Yeah?” She held her breath and reached out, brushing her hand against his. His skin was warm and rough, and she wasn’t oblivious to all the other, different ways she wanted to touch him. But she dropped her hand away after one quick, encouraging squeeze.
