“Easy escape,” he says when I look at him quizzically. He puts the gearshift in park but leaves the engine running and the heat pumping. I wonder whether Luke always parks in the back and make a mental note to include that tonight so I don’t wonder again.
“Are you cold?” he asks.
“No, I’m fine. If anything, I’m hot in this jacket.”
He turns down the blower.
“Your hair looks good like that,” he says, as easily as someone I’ve been dating for a while might. He takes a slow sip of his coffee, and I find myself wishing my own nearly empty cup would magically refill itself.
I grab a smooth strand of hair. I must have flat-ironed it last night; I didn’t wash it this morning.
“Thanks,” I say, gazing into his blue eyes.
“So, what’s new?” he asks.
I have no idea, so I talk about my best friend some more. “I’m worried about Jamie,” I begin cryptically, hoping to draw out information if I’ve already discussed this particular issue with Luke. According to my notes, I haven’t. Then again, notes could be wrong.
“How come?” Luke asks innocently, taking another drink. The parking lot is starting to fill around us, but we are in our own world.
“Can I tell you something in confidence?” I ask.
“Of course. You know you can trust me, London.”
I do know that, I think to myself.
“Okay,” I begin. “You can’t tell anyone.”
“Of course,” he says, as if it’s a given.
I sit for a moment, looking into Luke’s expectant eyes, trying to think of a way to buffer what I’m going to say. Instead, I finally just blurt it out. “Jamie is having an affair with a teacher. A married teacher.”
Luke doesn’t make a sound, but his jaw drops slightly, and then he recovers. “Wow,” he says, clearly letting the news settle in his brain.
“I tried to talk her out of it, but she’s too stubborn to listen,” I continue.
“How long has this been going on?” he asks.
“It started around the time we met.”
I think I see a speck of hurt flash across his eyes—maybe because I didn’t tell him sooner. I’m surprised myself that I haven’t, but it’s not really my secret to tell. And here now, sharing it anyway, I can’t help but feel a bit guilty.
“Which teacher?” Luke asks, and all at once I’m defensive.
“It doesn’t matter,” I snap.
“Whoa, calm down,” he snaps back, making me wonder whether we’re going to have our first fight. “Just asking,” he says, looking toward the line of cars pulling into the lot.
“Sorry, it’s just a sensitive subject. No matter how stupid she is sometimes, Jamie is still my best friend. But I didn’t mean to bite your head off.” Luke looks back into my eyes and smiles. I can see we’re okay, but just to make sure, I add, “It’s Mr. Rice.”
“Driver’s Ed.?” Luke asks. I nod.
“I guess I can see that,” Luke says. “He’s young and all. At least it’s not Mr. Ellis.”
“Ew, gross!” I squeal, and we chuckle a little at something that really isn’t that funny, but it lightens the mood just the same.
A car parks in the space on Luke’s side and two girls get out, looking enviously at him and then scowling at me. As they walk toward the school, I remember that one of them is going to get pregnant at the end of next year. I feel like shouting after her, “Use protection!”
Instead, I keep the conversation going.