Rafe chuckled. "Damn."
I went in, leaving the door ajar, and headed for the window. It usually opened easily. Before Daniel dared to march out the front door with his bag packed, he'd take the window exit and ride his bike to our place. It'd been a while since we'd gone out to sit on the roof. We used to--the three of us--but since Serena died, whenever Daniel suggested it, I changed the subject.
The house had been painted this summer and it seemed like the window hadn't been opened since. I whaled on it, then looked over to ask Rafe for help. He was standing in front of Daniel's dresser, holding our drinks as he looked at the photos shoved in the mirror frame.
"You guys really have been friends a long time." He pointed the beer bottle at one. "What are you there? Six?"
"About that."
He grinned. "I like the pigtails."
He leaned in to look at a few others. Someone yelled something downstairs, and I said, "Come on," suddenly realizing I really didn't want to be found with Rafe in Daniel's bedroom, however innocent the explanation.
Rafe took his time, still checking out the room. He gestured at a pile of textbooks on the floor.
"What's he use those for? Weight lifting?"
"If you showed up in class more often, you wouldn't be asking that. Daniel's not a dumb jock."
"No kidding." He leaned over to read the titles. "Pre-law? Please tell me those belong to his older brothers."
"An uncle. They're Daniel's
now. A little outdated but ..." I shrugged.
He looked at me like he thought I was kidding. Everyone in town joked about Daniel taking over Chief Carling's job, and when he was little, even he thought he wanted to be a cop. Then he spent a year in cadets and realized paramilitary careers weren't for him.
Daniel had his own very firm ideas of right and wrong, and didn't like following anyone else's. So he'd set his sights on law. It wasn't a sure thing. Daniel was a solid A-minus student, but he really worked for those grades. Harder than I did, which made me feel bad sometimes.
I finally got Rafe over to the window and held the drinks while he yanked it open. Then I handed them back and told him to wait.
"Can I ask where we're going?" he said.
"Up."
He grinned. "Should have guessed. After you then."
FOURTEEN
FROM THE WINDOW, I swung over to the porch roof. I took the drinks from him, set them down, and climbed onto the main roof. By the time I was there, Rafe was on the porch roof, holding the drinks up to me. I grabbed them and he clambered up. Then I stood, carefully, and walked to my usual place--the flatter roof on the storage space above the garage.
Rafe sat beside me. I handed him his beer and looked out into the dark forest. As I inhaled the smell of it, I closed my eyes and relaxed, but I didn't feel that usual slow stream of energy seeping in. Maybe it was too late for that and I was too tired. If anything, the energy seemed to be flowing out, leaving me blissfully relaxed, even a little light-headed.
When I glanced over at Rafe, he was staring into the night, sipping his beer, looking just as calm, happy even. Neither of us said a word, but it wasn't an awkward silence. Just ... nice.
After a few minutes, he said, "Better not let my thirty minutes slip away, huh?"
"I'm not wearing a watch."
His grin sparked at that, and I felt this tingle in my gut, a slow heat, as if there was more than Coke in my glass. I glanced away and took a gulp. It didn't help. I felt weirdly disconnected. Like when a summer boy sneaked rum into my Coke on our first and last date. I knew what booze tasted like now, though, and my pop was fine.
"So, you wanted to get to know me ..." he said.
I laughed, and the fuzzy feeling evaporated. "Um, no, I don't think I ever said that."
"Close enough. Here's your chance. Ask me anything and I'll reply with relative honesty."
"Relative?"