17. Van

17

Van

T utoring's going okay tonight. Josie's actually making eye contact with me since we read together in the library last week, so that's a plus.

The timer on her phone dings and she looks up from her computer screen. I catch a glimpse of it and it's one of those puzzle games where you have so many tries to guess the right word. Everybody loves that game, but it's my personal version of hell.

"Time's up," Josie says as I turn my computer her way. She skims over my paragraph and I know it's rough, even if GrammarPro did all the heavy lifting to make it recognizable.

"It's a good start," she tells me, like that's some sort of compliment. To me, it sounds more like a death sentence—a certainty that I'm not done, and I have to keep working on it. "We can work on revising it Thursday, ok?"

"Sure," I tell her, though I'd rather do just about anything else.

The baseball team chooses this exact moment to troop through the room. Jesus. These guys are always here. They must have the highest GPA of any team on campus.

"Van! Dude, you comin' out tonight?" Lanza yells across the room.

Ok, maybe not the highest…

I shake my head and turn my attention to Josie.

She busies herself with putting her laptop in her bag and the look on her face damn near kills me. I don't want to go out tonight. I want to stay in—with Josie.

But that's not happening.

Still, I do the least I can.

Maybe I'm an idiot (it's a well-established fact, really), but the thought of Josie spending her birthday alone makes me sad.

I reach into the front pouch of my backpack and take out the paper bag. It's not full of crumbs, so that's a good sign.

Sliding the bag across the table, I bump her hand with the edge. She looks up at me, then down at the bag.

"Happy birthday, Jos," I tell her, turning away before I make a total fool of myself.

"You..." her voice trails off as she opens the bag and inhales. "It's oatmeal raisin. That's my favorite."

"I know," I answer, unable to stop myself. I've said too much, and I expect Josie to scold me or tell me the past is off-limits, but she doesn't say that. She doesn't say anything. "You got any big plans tonight to celebrate the big 2-3?"

Josie doesn't answer. She's looking at her phone, her lips twisted with worry.

"Everything okay?" I ask.

"Yeah, of course," she answers absently, packing her stuff and not looking in my direction. It's a rare night that she doesn't have to close and lock up, but it's still late, and I wait for her. We walk out together, like most nights, and head toward her dorm. There's nothing official about it, but I like making sure she makes it across the courtyard safely, and I don't mind walking halfway back through campus to get to my place.

It's an unspoken thing we've been doing for a week or so. We never talk much on these walks, but she's quieter than usual tonight, and she's still looking at her phone. We're stopped at a light, and I've resigned myself to the fact that the rest of our walk will be silent when she turns to me.

"My brother's not home yet," she says.

Josie rarely brings up her family, so I probably just stare at her for a second. The street sign flashes above us, so we take our cue and walk.

"We have this thing, my family and I. They know I feel better—calmer—when I'm sure they're all home safe and sound." She pauses, like she's going to say more, then shakes her head. "It probably sounds crazy, but?—"

"It doesn't," I assure her.

She shrugs. "Well, when we're settled for the night, we just text the word Home to the group chat, that way I can get to sleep without worrying. Levi, he's the one who's older than me, he's home with the youngest three. They're all tucked in and accounted for. Zane's still out. It's not that late, I know. And it's Halloween, so I'm sure he's fine. He's probably just out with his friends. That's what Levi's telling me. I just...worry. And I know I won't sleep, not until they're all accounted for."

We're standing outside her dorm building, but I'm not ready to leave. And the last thing I want to do is put on a costume (Thor, thank you very much) and head out to some party on campus.

I'm mentally willing her brother to text, but he's what? Fifteen? Chances are he's eating candy and gaming in a friend's basement or he's making out with somebody in said basement. Either way, he's probably not texting anytime soon.

"Did they go trick-or-treating?" I ask. "The younger kids?"

Josie's face breaks into a smile for the first time tonight. "They went with our neighbors while Levi stayed back at the house to give out candy."

"Pics or didn't happen," I say.

Her smile brightens as she thumbs through the photos on her phone. "Here's a good one."

I look over her shoulder, expecting Spiderman or a vampire or maybe even a ladybug. Instead, I see two kids in black and white jumpsuits—the old-timey looking ones that people in movies wear when they're in prison. In front of the two inmates is...a little girl. At least, I think it's a little girl. It's hard to see beyond the glitter and the tutu.

"Uh..."

Josie just laughs. "Milo and Tillie are twin serial killers. Iris was supposed to be one of their victims, but she decided to make her own Tooth Fairy costume this year."

Before I can say anything, her phone buzzes with an incoming text. She reads it and sighs with relief.

"Zane made it home?" I ask.

"Close enough. His friend's mom's car has a dead battery, so he's spending the night there."

"Good," I say awkwardly, just as my phone chimes, too. I tap the app on my screen that reads texts aloud, so an automated voice says, "Ollie texted, Dude, you coming out or what? I heard all the Sigma girls are going as lingerie models. Get the hell home so we can fucking goooooo ."

Josie and I just sort of stare at each other for a moment.

"You better get going," Josie says before scanning her ID and stepping inside. She's gone before I can explain or call Ollie and cancel.

I start to walk back home, but after about two steps, I turn around, slipping inside Josie's dorm before the door closes. Taking the stairs three at a time, I make it to her room just as she's about to shut her door and lock up for the night.

"Van? What are you—I thought you were going out with Ollie?"

I'm leaning in the doorway, aiming for chill and relaxed and probably failing miserably. "Ollie doesn't need me to be his wingman," I tell her as I spot a plastic container on the table behind her. Guess I'm not the only one who remembered her birthday. "Whoa, are those cupcakes?"

She's a little flustered. "Yeah. Iris and the twins made them last night. We had a birthday dinner at home. Levi insisted I bring most of them back here or Milo would be on a sugar high and wouldn't sleep for three days."

"What flavor?" I ask, just to keep her from shutting the door in my face.

"Vanilla, with strawberry filling. I'd like to think they picked that because it's my favorite, but I'm sure it has more to do with the fact that the gooey center looks like blood oozing out. They're big true crime nuts, my siblings."

"The third graders?"

"And the kindergartner," she says, nodding.

"I would love to have a strawberry blood cupcake." Those are never words I thought I'd say, but I also never thought I'd be in Josie's doorway again. She bites her lip in hesitation, and I brace myself to have her door slammed in my face. But it never happens. Her pretty mouth curves into a half-smile and she steps back, leaving the door open.

"Sure, I have plenty," she says as I step inside. The room is so perfectly Josie–all different shades of purple, with little bits of white and green. I feel like I'm in a field of flowers and I don't mind it at all.

I'm not sure if she's just being polite or if it's because today's her birthday or what, but if the universe is letting me into Josie's orbit, even for half an hour, I'm not turning it down.

Somehow we end up sitting on the floor, our backs against the edge of her bed, just like the night we met. We don't talk about how weird it is that I'm here. I have a feeling that if I acknowledge that things might be thawing a little bit between us, Josie will freeze me out again, so I stay quiet, eating three cupcakes and watching an episode of some show I don't even know the name of. It takes place a couple hundred years ago and everybody's got a British accent. They're all lords and ladies of something-or-other, but it's actually pretty good. Plus, there's sex, and not the fade-to-black kind. That should be awkward, but when I sneak a glance at Josie, she's fast asleep.

Lifting her onto the bed, I drape a purple fuzzy blanket over her. I'm tempted to kiss her forehead, to wish her sweet dreams and seal it with my lips. But tonight wasn't about me. It wasn't even about us. Tonight was about Josie. Besides, a stolen kiss while she's sleeping isn't what I want. If I'm ever lucky enough to get my lips on Josie again, it won't be chaste or sweet. It won't be a kiss goodbye. It will be the start of something I never want to end.