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“I like that you ask questions and respect when I say no or not yet.”
“So why haven’t you given me a ‘no’ or ‘not yet’ answer now?” I asked.
“Because I want to tell you before someone else does but I don’t want you to think of me differently.”
I rolled my eyes and grabbed her hands in mine. “Eliza, you could barely walk through a simple algebra problem a month ago. My opinion of you is on the floor.”
She laughed, and I was relieved. “Oh good, no need to impress you then.”
“Hard to come back from not knowing the proper order of operations.” I winked.
She paled and took a deep breath. “I’m meeting with my probation officer. I was arrested for something that happened when I was seventeen. I don’t know if I have the time or mental energy to explain what happened but just know I wasn’t in the wrong and I knew I’d have consequences to my actions and I was,I am, okay with that.”
I nodded. I knew all of this, sort of. But her even voice and the flash in her eyes tell me something more than her words. She was right in her actions. And Donnie was going to pay. “I understand. Is this a boot situation?”
“What?” She looked relieved, her face filling with color again.
“You’ll tell me the story with your boots when you’re ready?” I ran a finger over her eyebrow, the bruise nearly gone. “And this?”
She nodded. “Yeah. I swear I’m not trying to hide anything, I just thought you should know, in case that changes things.”
“Of course, it changes things.” She flinched, and I was quick to add, “It means we can still grab dinner. I’ll wait until your meeting is over and then I am taking you to mediocre Thai food and an incredible lookout.”
And so that’s what we did. And the following week passed similarly, we fell into a routine. We still sat in our usual seats in English. I couldn’t blame her for that, but we’d walk to class together, and she’d spend every evening tutoring with me. She even called me twice for help on the new unit and I found myself waiting at her math class door the next Friday.
“And?” I asked when she emerged.
“It could have been better,” she groaned.
“What was the issue?”
“The stupid Log systems. I think I messed up using the calculator.”
“We’ll work on it,” I assured her. We walked to the parking garage, and I pulled her into a hug, inhaling the scent of her hair.
“What was that for?” she asked, eventually pushing away. I’d come to find out that physical affection was not the norm for her, despite her sweet signs and occasional moans when I kissed her, she always pulled back first.
“I just wanted to.”
“Oh,” she blushed and fumbled with her keys.
“See you in the morning?” I asked.
She nodded.
“Be ready to drop that pen name of yours because I plan on finishing first.”
“That’s not very gentlemanly,” she said, innocent little eyes staring up at me. Then her face flamed. “Oh gosh, I can’t believe I said that.”
“Oh, I am relieved!” I exaggerate my movements, making a show of how surprised I am. “You can create a joke, a naughty one at that.” I gave her a wink.
She rolled her eyes, hiding her flaming face, and got into her car.
“Be ready to drop that pen name! I will win that pie-eating contest for your secret name!”
She started her car; it took a few tries for the engine to roll over and she waved goodbye.
I gave her a few minutes head start and followed the same road. I was staying with my parents this weekend. It was like having two homes. My own space away from them and my childhood room just as I left it.
