My backpack felt way too heavy for the second week of classes, and I attributed the excess weight to printing out all the slides for my human memory course. The professor flew through the presentation like he had somewhere else to be, and taking meaningful, hand-written notes was practically impossible. On the bright side, home wasn't too far of a walk. The mile-long trek could be a pain during the winter—and amid the blistering heat of late August and September—but I'd take a hailstorm over trying to find parking on campus.
Baker, who lived over in midtown, nearly missed her finals every year because of the limited parking. Her commute was one of the reasons we didn't live together. That, and the fact that she rented out the basement of some 60-year-old man's house, despite the psychopathic tendencies he'd presented during her tenant interview.
I was frugal, but not that frugal.
I'd almost reached the train crossing when I spotted Theo sitting on a hill above the tracks, smoking a joint. He wore his classic red beanie and a black sweatshirt that couldn't possibly have kept the masochist warm.
We locked gazes just as I was about to hop the railway, and although I couldn't make out his expression from here, I knew he recognized me under my hood because he held my gaze like he was trying to convince himself he didn't know me.
As the seconds passed by, neither of us waved, and neither of us severed eye contact.
Dammit. You can't ignore him now, Moe.
I sucked in a breath and wandered over to his hillslope covered in sagebrush, disregarding Carl's suggestion to make a run for it. Theo watched me with curious eyes, but he didn't say anything, even as I sat down next to him on the ground.
"On your break?" I asked casually, my gaze roaming over the train tracks below us and the snowy neighborhood beyond. The clouds were crisp and clumpy this afternoon, as if the atmosphere was so cold, the water vapor molecules were forced to huddle together for warmth.
"Just got off work."
I curled my fingers into the frozen soil, unsure how to puncture the tension. The last time we'd been alone together, he'd had his hand...in me. What was the appropriate step forward after something like that? Where did we go from here?
He offered me his joint, and I hesitated, my eyes darting to his stupid, pretty face and back to the item in his hand. "How heady is it?"
"There's hardly any THC," he said. "Barely a high."
I accepted and brought the burning cylinder to my lips. I had to be careful with weed. My anxiety couldn't take much more than a few puffs, and the wrong strain would have me clutching my head and trying not to swallow my own tongue. But this joint had a nice woodsy, fruity taste, and it didn't seem to pack a punch. Not a strong one, anyhow.
I needed to buy some of this for Jay. It was a better alternative to smoking cigarettes—something he'd picked up again after quitting treatment—and it would probably take some of his pain away, too. Mom would throw a fit if she ever caught a whiff of marijuana on him, but it wasn't her disease, and she didn't get to tell him how to cope with it.
"Sorry about my sister the other day," Theo said, pausing to release a stream of smoke from his lips. "I swear I didn't give her any details. She's just too fucking intuitive. I had to tell her I was hooking up with someone to get her off my back."
I grinned at the memory of him reacting to Charlie's teasing, the way his face pinkened with embarrassment. "You don't need to apologize. She was hilarious." I shot him a wry smile. "Guess she got all the funny genes."
His amused huff was quiet. "She's nosy. It's going to bite her in the ass one day." He finally turned to look at me, and the compassion on his face was disarming. "Also...I'm sorry about your uncle's recurrence. Sounds like you two are close."
The sentiment was comforting, especially coming from someone who'd experienced true sorrow in his life. "He's the only person in my family I can tolerate," I admitted, struggling to look him in the eyes—too afraid he might see into the neglected spaces of my soul. "It's been a hard couple of years. But you get it. You've been there before."
"Yeah."
We sat in silence for a moment, and I bit my cheek, deciding I better check my boxes before I announced my proposal. "How's your ex?"
"Still trying to revive our dead relationship."
My stomach dropped, and the fear of murky waters returned. "Is it dead?"
Was I intervening in someone else's love story? Was I the roadblock to resolution?
Theo let out an aggravated sigh. "I don't know how I'm supposed to trust her again. I've never been the kind of guy who clings too tightly, you know? But after this...I don't think we could have a healthy relationship. I'd be jealous all the time. I wouldn't trust her if she wanted to go out with friends. And I don't want to be that guy." He took one last hit before stubbing the joint on the ground. "So yeah. It's over, whether she believes me or not."
I was relieved to hear he wasn't keen on repairing their relationship; it opened the gates for a friends-with-benefits contract.
But the second I opened my mouth to ask him his thoughts on the matter, he said, "You hungry?"
The trajectory of our conversation threw me for a loop, and I shifted to face him. "Yeah, I could eat."
"I've got some food at home if you want to join."
Butterflies danced in my stomach, and I examined his calm, inscrutable expression. Was this the invitation I thought it was? Had he tucked the sensual offer between syllables, hoping I'd speak his language? Or was I completely off base?
"Sure," I said, submitting to my own desires.
He rose to his feet, dusted off his jeans, and extended his hand. "Come on."
Theo drove us to his apartment on the other side of town, and because he was actually conscious this time around, we discussed our impressions of Reno.
The bad, the ugly, and the utterly bizarre.
I hadn't realized my copilot grew up in San Francisco, although it explained his eye makeup and the progressive transactions I'd witnessed, particularly for a cis, white, able-bodied male. When I asked him why he'd chosen Reno as his college destination, he'd said he was drawn to the smaller crowds, the four seasons, the research opportunities, the affordability, and most peculiarly, the "vibes."
"What do you mean?" I asked. "The gambling addiction vibes? Or the granola girl vibes?"
A small laugh crinkled his eyes. "All of it. No one thing defines this place. It's got the outdoors, the artsy shit, the casinos, the rednecks, the breweries, the meth addicts. It's diverse, but no one cares. It doesn't try to be anything but what it is. And the people here aren't looking to impress anyone from out of town." He shrugged, changing lanes on the freeway like it was second nature, like it didn't spike his anxiety or douse his skeleton in dread. "I don't know. In a place like this, you can just...exist."
I'd never heard anyone describe the Truckee Meadows that way, but I couldn't disagree with his points. Reno really was an undefined mountain town, and for whatever reason, it drew Americans from either coast.
"The sunsets are really nice," I conceded.
He grinned at me. "They are. Did you see the clouds last night? I didn't even know that color existed."
I felt myself mirroring his excitement, inexplicably joyful that someone else shared my appreciation for Nevada skies. "Yeah, I did." As a matter of fact, I'd taken about seventeen photos of the event on my phone, each of them more vibrant and colorful than the last, but I wasn't about to tell him that.
We made it to his apartment by nightfall, and I half-expected Theo to throw me onto his bed the second we stepped through the door. But instead, he began extracting a whole shopping cart's worth of vegetables and condiments from the fridge.
Oh. He was serious about the food.
Way to be a horndog, Moe. You're no better than a man.
I set my pack down on the dining chair I'd occupied weeks prior, perplexed by the pile of ingredients on Theo's counter. "Are you...cooking us dinner?"
"Is that okay?"
I gaped at the skinny graduate student I'd only ever seen scarfing down fast food scraps during his night shift. "Do you know how to cook?"
"Of course I do. I'm an old man, right?"
My lips twitched. "Are you still butthurt about that?" I'd been calling him 'ancient' since we first crossed paths. I didn't realize the insult had managed to slip under his skin, though.
His scowl was playful. "I'm not even that much older than you. I've got what, three years on you? That's nothing."
"Yeah, that's what all the predators say," I teased, and his subsequent laughter was bright and clear and genuine. I was glad that after everything we'd experienced together, we could still tap into our old coffee shop banter. And if I was being honest, the ribbing was better than ever. Something about seeing each other naked had shattered any concern of coming across too flirtatious or obnoxious or overconfident. Now, talking to Theo was just...easy.
As the barista retrieved a bag of pasta from the pantry, my eyes swept across the stony apartment and landed on a large cardboard box by the front door. "What's that?"
He followed my gaze and frowned at the source of my inquisition. "Alyssa's things. I figured I probably shouldn't burn them, despite what Charlie says." His posture deflated ever so slightly. "She hasn't come to pick them up yet. I think it's her way of denying that this is really happening."
Emotion coarsened his voice, but I had no intention of exploring any lingering affections for his ex. We'd wandered down that road before, and I'd ended up flat on my back with his tongue down my throat.
I didn't want to repeat New Year's Eve until we'd properly communicated our wants and intentions. Tonight, Theo had invited me over for dinner, and that was the only thing I could be sure of right now.
"...What are we making?" I asked, joining him at his marble countertop.
"Tuscan shrimp over pasta. And..." He set a pack of nuts down in front of me with a smug grin. "Apple walnut salad."
I winced and shot him an embarrassed look. "Theo, I'm allergic to nuts and shellfish."
His face fell. "...Really?"
"No."
He exhaled, shaking his head, but his begrudging smile was the reward I'd sought all along. "What the hell's wrong with you?"
I blew a puff of air out of my cheeks. "Far too many things to list." I shuffled over to the sink to wash my hands, bumping his hip with mine. "What can I chop, geezer?"
"Oh...." I closed my eyes, savoring the way the butter and garlic mixture stimulated my mouth, my nostrils, and the pleasure center of my brain. "Oh...my god."
Clearing his throat, Theo set his empty plate on the coffee table. "You need to stop making those sounds."
"Or what?" I taunted from my cozy corner of the couch. "You gonna jump my bones?"
He leveled his gaze at me, and the mischief in his eyes sent an alluring thrill through my abdomen. "No. But I might just steal your prawn."
"You wouldn't."
He lunged for me like a puma, and I batted his fork away with my own. Sadly, my other hand held a precarious plate of pasta sauces level, putting me at an obvious disadvantage, and the delinquent reached around my waist to pin me to the cushion. "No!" I screamed beneath the weight of his torso. "I only have one left! Fuck off!"
He stabbed the last garlic shrimp from my plate and gulped it down right before my eyes—like the callous sadist he was.
I buried my face in the couch, groaning in turmoil. "You really are the devil, Theo."
He laughed and unhanded me, slipping away before I could kick him in the nuts. I set my tableware aside, and then I spun around and yanked his beanie down over his face—leaving only his wide, broadening smile exposed to the world.
"That was delicious," I confessed, though it came out angrier than I intended. "How am I supposed to go back to eating canned beans and ramen now, you ass?"
He laughed, sliding the beanie off his head, and beneath tousled brown locks, his gaze was fond. "Guess you'll just have to come over for dinner more often."
My grin dwindled as his comment sank into my skin, and my walls emerged from the floor where I'd banished them. "Is...that what you want?"
A dining buddy? Someone to cook for on a regular basis?
Or was he seeking something else? Something extra?
He studied my face, as if he were searching for an answer that wouldn't scare me. "I wouldn't hate seeing you more. Outside of making your coffee." He tacked on a joke as a means of preserving our repartee. "It came as a shock, but...you're not the worst company in the world."
My bewildered gaze drifted back to the coffee table.
Well, that was strategically vague.
It had been a little over a month since Theo broke up with Alyssa, and I had no idea where his head was at. Was this his way of asking for something casual? Or was he just a decent guy who wanted to cook me dinner before sex?
Did I have it all wrong? Had he already moved on from our one-night stand? Was he simply trying to befriend me?
What was this? What were we doing?
And why was I too scared to ask?
"You're not so awful either," was all I managed to say, but I wanted to slap myself for failing to verbalize the words inhabiting my throat. He smiled again, and it was like he could see the storm behind my eyes, the confusion, the fear of assuming intent, because he didn't probe any further.
Dropping the subject altogether, he took my plate to the kitchen, leaving me alone with a constricted chest and an apprehensive Carl crawling over my shoulder.
Danger, danger, danger, the pest chanted in my ear, digging his claws into my nape. But this time, I saw the neon hazard signs all on my own.
And they sure were pretty.