Текст книги "Triangle: The Complete Series"

Автор книги: Susann Julieva

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He just gives me a look, and starts to walk towards the dorm. I follow him into the falling snow, my

heart beating madly. “Swear you won’t say a word to him. I mean it!”

But he just smiles to himself and falls into an easy jog, quickly disappearing behind a curtain of

twirling snowflakes. His voice echoes along the pathway: “See you tomorrow, James!”

I stare after him, dumbfounded, a feeling of impending doom creeping over me. He didn’t mean that,

right? He’s not actually gonna try to… is he?

Oh boy. I start to run after him. “Casey, wait up!”

But he’s already gone.

Chapter 7

Second Chances

NICK: Damn insomnia. I swear you don’t know how sweet being able to sleep is until you can’t do it

anymore. Staring at the wall or the ceiling, thoughts going a million miles an hour, body being

absolutely trashed with exhaustion, but not being able to sleep. It’s a goddamn nightmare, if you’ll

excuse the pun. Ha-damn-ha.

Doc doesn’t want to put me on sleeping pills yet, but I can’t stand just laying there in my room, so

I’ve settled into a cycle. I stay out at the cafe almost every night for as late as I can stand it, then head

back to my room, dragging myself the entire way. Then I stay up even longer, usually dicking around on

my computer, before hauling myself over to my bed, to hopefully pass out for a few hours.

It’s not great, but it’s the best I’ve got right now. Riz usually joins me at the cafe when he can. I get

the feeling that he doesn’t always sleep much either. I appreciate the company, so I haven’t called him

on the way he looks pretty exhausted sometimes too.

It’s a night without him though, and the entire campus is dark by the time I make my way back from

the cafe to my room. Even though it’s more than a little creepy, I cut through the drama department,

passing the doors to the large theater auditorium. They’re closed, but there’s piano music sneaking out

around the cracks. I hesitate near one and listen. The sound is distorted a little through the door, but

whoever it is, and it must be a music major, they’re real good. I want to sneak inside to see who it is,

maybe listen a little, but before I can decide if I should, the song stops. There isn’t another to follow it,

so I hurry down the hall before the person comes out and sees me listening at the doors like a creep.

***

The next night, when I take the same shortcut, one of the doors to the auditorium is cracked open, so I

slip inside. The theater is dark except for a few lights near the front of the house. There’s a grand piano,

shining and sleek, sitting center stage, and the musician that’s coaxing such sweet sounds from it shocks

me.

It’s Rizzo.

I didn’t even know that he could play at all, much less anything like this. I ease silently into one of

the seats in the last row, getting as lost in the music as he seems to be. It’s nothing I recognize, angry

and sad and bittersweet, and there’s something about it, some twist of melody, that’s so Rizzo that it

makes me ache a little. Reminds me of the way he can be when it’s just us talking about something.

Despite my stealthy listening, it’s not music for anyone but himself, and that makes it all the better.

Long moments of sound pass in notes and beats and nothing else before I realize that I’m not the

only one listening. Jeff slipped in at some point, and is standing there, hip against a seat across the aisle

from me, watching the stage. He scares the crap out of me when I see him, not expecting anyone else to

be there this late, and the movement of it catches his eye. He looks at me and tilts his head toward the

door behind us, an invitation for me to join him in the hallway. I know that I shouldn’t be intruding on

Rizzo like this anyway, so I nod and we leave the auditorium as quietly as we can.

It doesn’t surprise me when we start walking toward his office, quiet for a while before he clears his

throat. “Not many people get to see that. Not many people even know he plays. I think he’d appreciate

if it stayed that way.”

I’m not an idiot, and I nod in reply. Riz was past good enough to play for anyone, much less the

people he usually hangs out with. It’s something else that people would love about him, just like acting.

The fact that he doesn’t tell anyone means he’s got a reason not to, and I’m not going to be the one that

screws that up.

We make it to Jeff’s office, and he gestures at one of the chairs. Being in there again brings back the

hazy memories of getting kicked off the cast, but I try to forget that. It doesn’t work very well, and I

find myself trying to figure out what the hell I’ve done wrong now.

“He’s in there playing a few times a week. More if he needs to. I don’t ask questions – just make sure

he can get in and that no one hassles him.” Jeff digs through the piles on his desk, looking for something

as he talks. I watch him without saying anything, waiting for something that requires me to reply.

“I think he plays more when something’s bothering him. He’s been in there almost every night for

the past few weeks, and I knew he’d be in there after today…”

He trails off, and finally really looks at me, even though I know he’s been doing his creepy peoplewatching

thing at me the whole time. I’m not sure I’m comfortable under that sort of attention right

now. “What happened today?” I force the question out, even though I’m not sure I need to, and he

laughs. It takes me a second to realize that he’s not really laughing at me. That it’s soft and a little tired.

The same sort of thing I’ve been noticing behind Rizzo’s eyes lately at the cafe.

“We had a cast member walk off the show. He… wasn’t getting along very well with the rest of the

cast. So now I need to find a replacement.” I wince a little. It’s late February, and the show’s in May. At

this point, finding new cast could wreck the whole show, especially if it’s a lead. He sees the look on my

face and knows that I know it. Nodding again, he sits down behind his desk and gestures at me.

“Enough about our problems. Look at you! Word has it that things are getting better in your world.”

I can’t help laughing at the way he puts it. In my world. For the first time in a long time, I’m not in my

own world. I’m in the same goddamn crazy world as everyone else.

“It’s good to have you back, Nick.” There’s a significant little pause, and I can predict what’s

coming next before he even opens his mouth again. “You’re doing okay, though? Really?”

I know in that moment that Jeff knows. He knows everything that’s happened, and probably even

knew as it was happening. The drugs, the attempt, the hospital. Probably even the people I hooked up

with. I don’t know how he knows, but he does.

I nod at him, and even though I’ve barely said a word since leaving the auditorium, it’s hard to force

them out. “Yeah, Jeff. It’s… good. It’s okay. Still got a ways to go, but I’m getting there.” I can see the

next question on his tongue, so I talk over. “And I’m sober. Have been since, well. A while, now.” I

laugh again to try to ease the weirdness, but Jeff just smiles at me.

“Good. Fucking great.” His grin gets a little wider as I stare at him, it still being strange to hear

professors curse, even if it’s him. “Though if you tell me that you’ve given up acting in your new-found

sobriety…”

“Are you kidding?” I interrupt him without even thinking. “I miss it like I’d miss my leg if someone

cut it off! Hate that I couldn’t even fit a class in this semester.”

He laughs at me, but I don’t care, because it’s the truth. “What are you doing tomorrow, Nick?” The

question hits me out of the blue, but I do my best to remember my schedule. Tomorrow is Wednesday,

and Wednesday means:

“Class ‘til 3. Why?”

He tosses a script at me and I catch it automatically, only fumbling a little. It’s a battered cast copy

of Hamlet, with “Horatio” written in black permanent marker on the beat-up cover. I’m so busy staring

at it that I almost miss what he says next.

“Because you’ve got rehearsal at 5. I’ve found my replacement. Welcome back to the show.”

***

I don’t get stage fright. I get nervous, yeah. Who wouldn’t? But it’s a rush. It’s never stopped me. Going

to rehearsal is another matter. There’s a huge part of me wishing for something to calm my nerves, and I

practically twitch my way through classes. I get through, somehow, and 5 o’clock is rolling around

before I’m ready for it.

I feel like a sneak, slipping back into the drama department, the sound of people gathered in the

theater already filtering out into the hallway. Everyone’s attention is somewhere else when I walk in the

door, and it gives me a second to readjust to being here again. I see Riz right away, off to the side

talking to the girl playing Ophelia, and I have no idea if he knows about me being back on the cast or

not.

The surprised tilt of his eyebrows when he sees me points to “not”. I drop my bag off to the side,

giving him a little shrug as I slouch down into a seat.

Jeff sees me and gives me a smile and a reassuring nod before getting everyone’s attention to start

rehearsal. “Alright, people. I know everyone’s worried about what happened yesterday, but we’re going

to push on, okay? I found you a new Horatio, and hopefully you all won’t scare this one off.” There’s a

buzz of awkward laughter as people look around for the new guy, and a few pairs of eyes land on me.

Rizzo’s are the only ones that register any recognition.

Jeff doesn’t waste any time choosing a scene to start with, and within seconds actors and crew are

scrambling onstage and behind the curtain to their places.

Riz comes over when I settle on a spot to stand onstage and gives me one of his little grins. “Horatio,

hm?” When I look at him, I can’t keep the smile off my face.

“Hope that’s okay with you… Prince.” He laughs and shakes his head, and I finally lose that nervous

feeling in the pit of my stomach.

***

A week back at rehearsals, and I’m beginning to wonder how crazy I was to accept Jeff’s invitation

back to the show. When I’m not in rehearsal, I’m in class, and there are times when I have to run across

campus to make one or the other on time. It’s been close more than once, slipping into my seat just as

the professor starts to lecture.

The guy who sits next to me, some jerk-off soccer playing jock, grins over at me and the way I’m

practically sucking air in from my run from the drama department. Stupid cigarettes and my tiny lung

capacity. He actually laughs when I glare at him, and whispers over at me: “Close call.”

I don’t even respond, grabbing my notebook and a pen to try to take notes in the most boring class

on the planet. Like I care what some muscled-out jock thinks.

Even if he is less muscled and more just really in shape and sort of strong looking. And pretty

attractive, for a jock. With blue eyes, and great hands, and his smile’s actually really nice, and…

Damn. I need to get laid.

***

Another day, another rehearsal. Jeff seems to be pretty happy with my stuff so far, even though there are

times that I forget exactly where I’m supposed to be standing. I’ve had the lines memorized for months,

from when I didn’t get the part the first time, but the on-stage blocking isn’t always as easy to

remember.

But he just lets me know where to be, if someone else doesn’t tell me first. And even though he

smiles every time, I could kick myself each time it happens. I’m supposed to be making things easier

for everyone, not harder.

Jeff ends rehearsal and calls me over, and I’m certain it’s going to be about the scene we just

finished, and how Riz and I were practically dancing with each other with how often he had to shift me

into the right spot onstage. But Jeff just smiles from his seat. “How do you feel about interviews for the

paper?”

He really needs to stop with the cryptic, out of nowhere shit, because it makes me feel like an idiot

every time he pulls it on me. Like I don’t speak the language or something. When all I can do is look at

him like I’m stupid, he laughs.

“I’ve got a reporter from the school paper showing up tomorrow, and I’m supposed to find people

for him to talk to.” No, that doesn’t make any more sense than the first thing. There’s no reason for him

to be asking me about it.

“What about Rizzo?” I gesture over to where he’s packing up his things. “Shouldn’t they interview

the star?”

Jeff gives me a grin and shrugs. “Thought we’d switch it up this time. So their editor’s going to be

here after rehearsal to talk to you.” The editor? The familiar name flashes into my mind, James Foley,

and I’m nodding before I even realize it. I wanted to meet the guy, anyway. Why not?

***

Rehearsal the next day is almost over, should’ve ended already, but Jeff’s got Riz and I onstage yet,

running through one of our scenes, and we’re not going to stop until he’s either satisfied or sick of us.

I’m doing my best to focus on the scene, to give over to Horatio, which isn’t hard when you’re playing

off Riz’s Hamlet, but it means I know the second his attention falters, pulled off the stage for a split

second. It makes me frown, my own eyes shifting out to the house as well, catching the figure standing

by the door. It’s a face I know, but the surprise of seeing it here makes me falter too, hearing Jeff sigh at

the two of us.

“Fine. You two are done for today, get the hell off my stage.” Jeff softens the blow with a quirk of a

smile, though, the way he almost always does. “The writer from the paper’s here for you anyway, Nick.

Come on over.”

The paper. James Foley. A familiar face at the door that puts that sort of expression on Rizzo’s face.

Well, fuck me.

Riz doesn’t even say anything to me as he packs up his shit at warp speed, and I watch as he heads

for the far doors. I realize how much I have no idea what the hell’s happening, but I can’t run after him

right now. Because I have an interview.

Jeff grins as I walk over, and I wonder if he knows what’s going on. I wouldn’t put it past him.

“Nick, this is James, our editor-in-chief.” I can’t help nodding at that, looking at the guy.

“I read the paper.” It sounds idiotic coming out of my mouth, but I honestly don’t know how I’m

supposed to be handling this.

“Congrats. That probably makes you 50% of our reader base.” I get caught by his smirk, staring for a

second.

Jeff laughs, breaking me out of my thoughts: “Hey, I read it too.”

“Must be my lucky day,” he replies dryly. He’s… damn, he’s actually funny. In a sarcastic sort of

way. I feel myself smiling, but I don’t want to like this asshole. I don’t know everything that’s going on,

but I know the way Riz practically ran out of the theater, and I do remember some of what happened last

semester. I feel Jeff watching me, though, so I force a sharp little smile onto my face.

“Must be. You get to interview me, after all.” Hell, that didn’t come out right, cocky in a way I’m

not ready to back up. Like the way I remember Rizzo being before I got to know him. I know that Jeff’s

staring at me now, and that I need to pull back the attitude before he calls me on it.

The guy gives me a look. “Right. Let’s get started then, big shot.” He nods to Jeff with a hint of an

amused smile, and leads me to the front row where it’s most comfortable to sit. Jeff gives me one last

look as he heads over to grab his own things, leaving me standing there with this guy and feeling like an

asshole.

We sit down and he takes some stuff out of his bag to set up for the interview. Pen and notebook,

plus a silver dictating machine. He tilts his head and looks at me. “You ready to start?” He looks at

some scribbling on his little book. “That’s Nick… Keller, right?” I nod as I try to settle myself in the

seat, looking for a way to be more comfortable sitting there.

“That’s me. Least last time I checked.” I can still feel the asshole tone sneaking through, and I try to

pull it back, knowing I’d never hear the end of it from Jeff if I screw up this interview. If this is part of

what I have to do now that he’s let me back on the cast, then I have to do it well.

I can tell that I’m not making the best impression so far, but he ignores my tone. “We need to cover

some basics first. How old are you, Nick?” It seems like a strange question. Nothing to do with the play,

but I just shrug and go with it.

“Twenty.” I watch as he makes a note in his book, and before he can ask another question, I push on.

“And I’m a Scorpio, blue is my favorite color, and I like rainy days and long walks on the beach.” The

humor’s a long-shot, and I wonder if I should just drop it, but it keeps slipping out on me.

He gives me a look that’s only mildly annoyed and mostly amused. “Shame. I’m not sure we’re

compatible then. I’m not a big beach person.” He writes more into his book, not letting me see what he

is writing. He continues as before, in the same professional tone, and I wonder if there’s any way to

crack this guy. “You’re a sophomore, is that correct?”

“That’s what they tell me. Though I think they’re probably being generous at this point.” It slips out,

and I try not to wince at myself. If he doesn’t realize who I am, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t, unless

that’s why he’s acting like this, I don’t want to be the one that clues him onto the fact that we’ve met

before. Sort of.

He arches an eyebrow and looks at me, and he seems to really notice me for the first time now, the

way he takes me in. I can see something that might be recognition in his eyes momentarily. But he

doesn’t seem sure. He opens his mouth to say something, shakes his head and closes it again. He takes

the dictating machine in his hand and starts to record.

“So tell me, how do you feel about being in the show?”

A little laugh slips out before I reply, because that’s probably the easiest question he could have

asked. “It’s amazing. I mean, the people. The show itself. And working with Jeff again is great.” I shift

in my seat, trying to face him more as we talk.

He actually smiles a little. “We’ve seen you in An Ideal Husband last year, as Sir Robert Chiltern.

You were the youngest cast member then. Does it feel different to be back this year?” I know they’re

normal interview questions, but I can’t keep the laugh in.

“You could say that. I, uh, I’m actually sort of coming to the cast late. Jeff asked me to fill in for

someone who left. So that makes things different right there.” I figure I’ll just leave out the whole

getting kicked off the cast thing. No one’s going to want to read that story, even if I wanted to tell it.

He nods. “So the rumors are true.” He sounds like this is off the record. But he continues the

interview right away. “It’s not a small part you’re taking on, either. You’re playing Horatio, Hamlet’s

confidant. Tell us how you see this character. What makes Horatio tick?”

“Loyalty.” The answer slips out before I even stop to think about it. “Friendship, too, but loyalty

first. I mean, here’s a guy that’s been in battles, is going to school at Wittenberg even though he’s most

likely a regular guy. And he gets pulled into all this crazy stuff because Hamlet wants him there.” I lean

in a little as I’m talking, getting more into it.

“Everyone else pretty much wants him to leave, but Hamlet trusts him and loves him, so he stays.

And he does whatever he can to help this poor guy that’s lost his dad, and had his mom marry his uncle,

and who’s pretty much losing his mind over everything. Oh, and who just happens to also be the prince

of Denmark.” I realize I’m rambling, but if there’s one thing Jeff pushes, it’s knowing your character, so

I’ve put a lot of thought into this, and it’s hard to stop talking.

“It’s a crazy thing to think about, really. He shows up, because he really cares about his friend and

wants to make sure that he’s dealing with things okay. He’s totally unprepared for what’s happening

with these insane people, so he tries to make it through with his common sense. And in return, he gets to

watch as this guy he loves gets pretty much mentally torn apart by his own thoughts, and everyone

around him ends up dead. And just when he’s thinking that he’s going to join everyone else and maybe

off himself, because y’know, screw that shit, Hamlet goes and asks him to stick around a little while

longer so he can tell everyone what happened. And he does, just because Hamlet asks.” I blink,

registering how much I’ve said, and how the guy – James – his mouth is quirked to the side in a little

smile. I give him a grin and shrug. “Loyalty.”

“Do you think Horatio’s loyalty acts as an important counterbalance to all the lies and betrayal in the

play?” I almost feel like I’m writing essays for some class on Shakespeare, but at least the question

makes sense.

“Oh, yeah, definitely. I mean, you’ve gotta have that one good guy in there, right? Or else it’s just a

bunch of crazy-ass royalty running around killing each other. And yeah, that’s good for tabloids and

stuff, but what’s a normal guy in the audience going to care? You throw Horatio in there, and it sort

of… makes it hit home.”

He’s still smiling a little when he glances down at his notebook to find his next question, clearing his

throat before he asks. “Would you say you and Horatio have something in common?” It’s something I

have to think about for a second, but I end up nodding as I look at him.

“I think so, yeah. I mean, I think all good actors have to find some sort of connection with their

characters, you know? To really get in their heads and make it real for the audience. So I guess I do or

Jeff wouldn’t have let me get up there to be Horatio.” I smile as I lean back in my seat to get

comfortable again. “Not that I’ve got a friend who’s going through the same stuff Hamlet goes

through.” Not that I have a lot of friends at all, a stupid little voice in my head throws at me. “But I like

to think that I’d stand by him, if I did.”

He at least looks interested in what I’m saying now, so I guess that’s a good sign, even though he

moves on to the next question without much of a reaction. “How did you get into acting? Is there

something specific that draws you to it?”

I laugh at that one, loudly because I can’t help it, and it takes me a second to stop. “You mean other

than me being an attention whore?” It’s something I’m willing to admit now, although I’m pretty sure

Doc would be frowning at the actual term. “I actually got into it in high school, and it just carried over. I

love being on stage, being able to get people to look and pay attention. To make them forget that I’m

some random guy on a stage, and make them hate or fall in love with a character. It’s great. Jeff gave me

a chance last year, and another huge chance this year, and while it’s been pretty crazy, I’m grateful for

it.” I’m still smiling, but it’s serious, and I have a feeling he’s going to pick up on it. “Don’t know where

I’d be if I didn’t have acting.”

He does get it. I can see it in the way he looks up at me for a minute that’s just a little too long before

asking the next question. “Can you tell us a little bit of what to expect from the show?”

“Orgies of death and blood. It’s a Shakespearean tragedy.” I try to keep a straight face, but I can feel

the smile bleeding through. And then… then I can’t help throwing another comment in, even though I

know I probably shouldn’t. “And I think costuming’s been talking about putting Riz in leather pants.

Though I’m not sure if that’s supposed to be common knowledge yet or not, so probably don’t print

that.” I watch to see if that gets a reaction at all.

It does, as if mentioning Rizzo finally makes the connection for him. He leans back in his chair a

little and looks at me with a slight frown and a strange little smile. “Now I know where I know you

from! Your hair used to be black. And all this time I’ve been wrecking my brains why you looked so

familiar.”

My hand automatically goes up to the back of my head, rubbing at my hair a little. It’d been black

for so long that I still forget that it’s not any more. I’m not quite sure where this is going to lead, but I

decide to just throw it out there. “Yeah, a lot of people don’t recognize me now.” I look at him and can’t

quite keep the edge out of my voice. “Probably not someone you wanted to recognize, though, huh?”

He stops the recording and puts the dictating machine down. “Certainly not before the interview.”

He gives me a quick smile. “But it turns out you’re not a total ass.”

“Not any more, at least.” I look at him, and can’t quite hide the smirk. “Jury’s still out on you,

though.” I try to hold the look as seriously as I can, but I can feel the smile pushing through more.

“What, no instant and violent loathing? Don’t tell me I’ve lost my special touch.”

“Well, you haven’t special touch-ed me yet, so I don’t know…” It slips out without me thinking

about it, something I probably would say automatically if I was talking to Rizzo, and the fairly

comfortable thing we’ve settled into. I know it’s wrong here before I even finish saying it, and I start

shaking my head. “Sorry, sorry. Ignore that… Just me being an asshole.”

He eyes me somewhat amusedly. “Yeah, the thing about actual assholes? They usually don’t realize

that’s what they are.” I suppose he has a point, but I shrug and shake my head.

“Doesn’t stop me from being one though, apparently. Old habits’re hard to break, I guess.” It could

apply to so many more things than just flirting with the guy that had put that look on Riz’s face, but I

just leave it at that.

There’s a short silence that could be uncomfortable, but somehow isn’t. He puts his dictating

machine back into his bag, and when he looks at me again there’s something almost mischievous in his

eyes. “You don’t really like long walks on the beach, do you?”

I raise an eyebrow at him, not nearly as smooth as I’d like to be, and I swear I can feel the phantom

tug of the ring that used to be there. “Are you kidding? Sand gets everywhere. And I don’t exactly tan

easily. It’s a nightmare.” I’m almost surprised that he’s put away his things already, but we’re not

talking about the show any more, so I suppose it makes sense.

“Amen,” he grins. The smile’s almost contagious, and I grin in return.

“Yeah, you don’t really look like one of those lucky bastards that can just tan at the drop of a hat.” I

smile a little more until Jeff calls over from the doors.

“Nick? I’m headed to my office. Leave one of the doors unlocked for-” He cuts himself off, glancing

at James. “For later, okay?” I nod, knowing that he’s talking about Rizzo.

“I got it, Jeff. Thanks.” He gives me a smile and lets himself out of the auditorium with a soft hiss of

the door closing behind him. I turn back to James after a second, and even though I probably shouldn’t

ask, I do.

“I actually don’t like to hang around in here too much without anyone else around. I, uh… we could

go somewhere else, if you still needed stuff for the interview?”

“Oh.” He is quick to stuff his pen and notebook back into his bag. “I think I’ve got it covered for the

most part. But if there’s more you’d like to tell me about the play or maybe working with Jeff… How

do you feel about coffee?”

I laugh at the question. How do I feel about coffee? “What, you mean the nectar of the gods? It’s one

of the only vices I’ve got left. I’m pretty sure my blood is about 80% caffeinated these days.”

He nods as he gets up. “Guess the Plato it is then.” I nod in return, getting up and grabbing my own

bag, shoving a few things to the bottom so I can throw my rehearsal stuff in too. I throw it over my

shoulder and look back at James.

“Ready when you are.”

***

The cafe is just as busy as it always is in the evening, but there’s a few empty tables waiting when we

get there. The girl behind the counter catches my eye, and I nod, letting her know that I’m going to be

ordering my usual. I glance over at James to ask if he wants anything too, but something else catches

my eye before I can say anything.

Rizzo’s here. Of course he is. And I would’ve realized that if I’d taken a second to think about it.

He’s sitting off to the side with Andrea, her hair still pulled up from rehearsing her Ophelia scenes

earlier, and they’re leaning close over a pair of still steaming mugs. And Riz is looking right at James

and I, giving us a look that I can’t quite place, but that I know isn’t good. Even Andie’s eyes are a little

sad, and I feel like kicking myself.

I turn back to James and give him a little push toward one of the empty tables on the other side of

the cafe. “Go. I’m getting us something to drink. And then we’re going to talk.” I don’t even wait to

listen to his reply before going to get my drink and something simple for him.

When I finally get to the table and sit down, putting his drink in front of him, I’ve been dealing with

Rizzo’s eyes on me for long, uncomfortable minutes. “Okay,” I jump in, not even giving him a chance

to ask about the play again, “now are you going to tell me why Riz is looking at me like I kicked his

puppy, or not?”

Chapter 8

Icebreaker

JAMES: At Nick’s words, my eyes immediately want to wander over to Rizzo’s table. I noticed his

slender figure the moment we walked in, I always do, but I’ve avoided actually looking over so far. And

I somehow manage to continue to do so now. Mostly by frowning at Nick. I surprise myself by

answering, even though it’s clearly none of his business. Although… maybe it is? “If you don’t know, I

can’t tell you.” I stare down at the coffee he brought me. But it doesn’t feel right to leave it there, so I

look up again. “You two are friends now?”

“The closest thing I’ve got to one. And he’d probably kick my ass for putting it that way. So we’ll go

with yes.” He gives me a strange little smile as he takes a drink of his own coffee. “And I’m not used to

people looking at me that way any more.”

“That makes me wonder if you actually used to kick puppies.” I smile grimly. “But if you need to

know, Rizzo hates my guts. So I guess we can safely assume that seeing one of his friends hanging out

with me is not his favorite sight in the world.”

Nick returns the smile, but shakes his head a bit. “No, no puppy kicking. Plenty of other shitty