"Hey," he said tentatively.
"Hey."
I looked at Constance. Constance looked at me. Like she was trying to process something. Was my guilt written all over my face, or was the warmth in the air that I felt around Josh now palpable to everyone else as well?
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"You missed breakfast," he said knowingly.
"Observant," I replied. Because he had to say it knowingly. Like he was so smart and had me all figured out.
"Can I talk to you?" Josh asked, one hand in his pocket, the other cradling his books at his hip. He was wearing an op
en coat over a battered corduroy jacket over a band T-shirt, and his jeans were frayed at the cuffs.
"Sure."
"I'll see you in there," Constance told me. She looked at me over her shoulder before disappearing inside the chapel. Like she didn't recognize me.
"What's up?" I asked.
Josh tilted his head away from the door, where students from the cafeteria were hustling by, eager to get back into the warmth of the indoors. I followed him. My pulse was causing my skin to throb. Was he going to mention last night? Our aborted kiss? Was he going to tell me it was wrong? That he didn't want to be around me anymore? He stopped and turned to face me.
"So, my brother, Lynn, and his girlfriend, Gia, are coming up from Yale tomorrow to checkup on me," he said.
Hello, whiplash. Both the words and the casual tone in which they were said were so unexpected it took my brain a second to catchup.
"Okay," I said brilliantly.
"See, my parents are in Germany and they're all worried after
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what happened, so they're sending out a posse, basically," Josh said. "We're probably going to go up to Boston to hang out for the day, so I was wondering if you wanted to come."
The invitation hung in the air. Around us students talked and milled and laughed. Each day since the funeral the student body had reanimated a bit more. They were almost back up to normal pitch now. Just a couple weeks later.
"So. Do you?" Josh prompted.
"Want to come to Boston?" I asked.
"Yeah."
"With you and your brother and your brother's girlfriend."
Sounded like a double date to me. Was that what it was intended to sound like?
"Yeah," Josh said, confused. "Was that not clear?"
I smiled and looked down at my shoes. Why did he have to be so cute?
"We'll do something fun," Josh said, nudging my arm with his books. "I think it'll be good, you know? To get out of here ... do something different. . . ?"
The very thought sent a rush of excitement through me. Followed by a crippling stab of Thomas-related guilt. What was I supposed to do here? What? Stay true to the memory of my murdered boyfriend, or start trying to get on with my life?
I knew what Noelle and Ariana would say. That there was no point in wallowing, and here Josh was, offering me one day of carefree fun. One day to not be sad.
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