Ryanna: :( Poor you. ((( ))) (U) Don't worry, there are other fish in the sea! I know Charis will cheer you up! LOVE from Seattle ;) [frownie face, hugs, broken heart, winkie face-and what was my sister implying about Char?]
Karl: Heard about your girlfriend. Talk to Charis yet re: the good news?
I stared at Karl's message in exasperation. Did every fucking body think my severed relationship meant I'd go straight to Charis? I mean I had in a sense, but …
Joel: Where are you? I've got two Gaeng Daengs here.
Now we were talking. I texted him back:
Asher: I'm at Sloane's. Can you pick up a third for her?
Joel: Sure and I'd better get a Pad Thai too. That woman can eat.
I smiled. She sure could.
At the thought of protecting my dinner from her invading hands, my spirits lifted, just a bit.
"HOW YOU DOING, CHARIS," JOEL boomed past my shoulder when I opened the door. He scanned the room, then glanced back at me with a question in his eyes.
I tried to pluck the bags out of his hand and failed. "She's not here."
He frowned and bumped past me. "If she's visiting her folks, how did you get in?"
"Key."
"How'd you get a key?"
"I water her plants when she's away." I grabbed for the bags again, but he swung around and dumped them onto Charis's black counter, crowding me out.
"If she's away why'd you ask me to get her food?" He crossed his arms in challenge.
"She'll be here." I was confident she would-eventually. I mean, where the fuck else would she go? Mr. Fiancé's place?
Mr. Fiancé. The motherfucker.
I made another grab for the bags, but no luck. Joel is an older brother, himself, and as such has Powers. I crossed my arms, because the rule is you never let them see you drooling. But damn, I was starving. I'd just worked out my aggression toward Sir Asshole Husband-to-be on the squash court-glowering at every guy there, I might add.
"If she's not home now, but will be eventually, then she doesn't need her plants watered," Joel reasoned. "Ergo, the question becomes why are you here?"
In case it's not obvious, I tend to attract logic factories for friends.
"Never mind that." Even if it was a damn good question.
I began unloading containers.
"I'm selling you out if Char calls the cops on us." Joel pointed. "Hold on, punk. Your beef, my chicken, her shrimp."
That was all we said for a while. Joel isn't much of a talker.
He's two years my senior, finishing up his Electrical Engineering degree. His life goal is to work in Batavia with the particle accelerators. Well, why not? We all have goals. But then he took a summer internship at Fermilab and learned his degree in quantum physics got him shit without an EE background.
At that point lesser mortals might have been deterred by the funding challenges, but Joel is a single-minded bastard and went on for his master's. We met in Signal Processing class a couple of years ago and now we're both on track to finish at the same time.
"How's she been?" he said at the end of his meal, swiveling on Charis's stool and locking his hands behind his head.
I was helping myself to Charis's soft drinks. "How's who been?"
"Aura, who else?"
"Ah." I waited until I'd guzzled half the bottle to answer him. "Yeah, so me and her, we're history."
His eyes widened, and he shook his head slowly.
Aside from his brown skin and close-cut hair, Joel is a lot like me. He's built about the same, shoe size, shirt size, everything. His story is a lot like mine, too; he used to be a certified nerd, once upon a time. Like me, he morphed around sixteen, only in his case, it was from kayaking and swimming on the other side of the Pass.
Today when people see us together, two big athletic-looking guys, they assume we wouldn't know a Gaussian density distribution from a basketball.
Personally, that suits me fine. I'd prefer not to have my business interests come up in social situations, as I always get a stream of messages I have to field when that happens, mostly from people wanting to suck my cock. I get it, you need a job, but I'm not a fucking corporation.
As for Joel, he's ruler in the realm of relationship phobia. Women tend to fuck him first and not bother asking questions later, assuming he has nothing in his pretty head to say. Which suits him fine. He's incredibly jaded and cynical.
I knew he wouldn't be even a little surprised at my breakup.
I sighed. "Don't say it."
He didn't need to. His expression said it all. After his first introduction to Aura, he bluntly proclaimed himself not a fan. He wagered I'd throw in the towel before we graduated. I'd taken that action, fully planning to buy her jewelry with my winnings.
"You were right. I owe you three hundred."
"Say that again." He cupped his ear. "Riiight. What a sweet sounding word. I believe the phrase I used was 'oil and water.'"
I grinned, conceding his win. "You nailed it. Twenty years and we couldn't emulsify."
"Lessee, that's three hundred … plus fifty for the food."
"Why should I pay for the food?"
"As interest for being a fool."
"Nah, I get credit for owning it." I nabbed his uneaten spring roll.
"You don't seem too crushed."
"I'm not. It was long overdue. For some reason everyone seems to think I should spend spring break bawling my eyes out. What are you up to? Off to see your family in Seattle?"
"I'll spend a few days fishing in the San Juans with my grandpa. The rest of the time I'll be studying. You want to come?"
"No, I'm sticking around. Maybe I'll work on the house." I narrowed my eyes. "So you tell me, how's Charis been?"
"Who knows?" He shrugged. "Last time I saw her was fall quarter."
I breathed a silent sigh of relief. He wasn't Mr. Marriage.
Great. One down, just 15,000 of the student body to go.
Who the hell was Charis's as-of-yet unidentified fiancé?
Maybe the answers were closer than I thought. Right then the front door opened.
She was home.
I managed to act casual, calling out "hey" with Joel. Sloane halted, then strolled to the counter, letting her backpack slide off and standing with her arms akimbo.
I hadn't seen her since last night. In that bulky black coat, with her cheeks flushed, windblown hair sparkling with melting snow, she looked like a baby chipmunk dressed in a bear outfit.
No siren here.
I felt myself relaxing. Everything was going to be fine. Maybe yesterday's lunacy had been just that. Maybe everything would go back to normal now.
"What are you guys doing here?"
"No complaining, now. We come with bribes." I waved at the countertop.
"I came with bribes." Joel head-gestured me."He came with nothing. Hello, Charis, how's it going with you? Sorry for the breaking and entering bit."
She blinked at him; when Joel smiled and used that deep tone of voice in that lazy way, women did that. I went around the counter, determined to out-smile him.
"I brought Pad Thai and shrimp curry," Joel was going on. "All for you."
"I formally forgive you, and bless all your progeny with good fortune," she told Joel. To me: "I thought you'd be at a bar, drinking off your hangover with everyone."
"Hangover's gone. And Doug's out of town and Winona's spiffing up her place for the party and I don't know what Karl's up to." I'd told her all this in my texts, naturally-texts she hadn't bothered to return.
"Well, I still have a hangover." She grimaced. "My head feels like someone's swinging a baseball bat inside it."
"I'm not surprised." My smile disappeared. She'd just shrugged off her flannel-lined coat, revealing an oversized tan sweater and loose-fitting chinos. Completely non-alluring clothes.
Still not a siren.
Then why was my breath catching and my dick trying to pop up like a jack-in-the-box? What did I care if she smelled like snow and oranges or her lips were rosy pink and she was within touching distance …
Fuck. I wasn't drunk. She wasn't drunk. My heartbeat thundered in my ears anyway.
I wanted to grab her. Smash her against me. See the surprise in her eyes. See how fast I could warm her up.
Conclusion: The whole thing hadn't been some crazy aberration.
"You're scowling at me," she said. "Why are you scowling? You never scowl. Your face is permanently fixed in a smile."
"He's not," Joel said. Then: "Wait, he is."
So I said it. What was the point in beating around the bush?
"Sloane, what the hell do you mean, you're getting married?"
"'I'M STARVING' IS NOT AN ANSWER," I informed her coldly.