Page 61 of Devil in Disguise

“That’s OK,” he said. “Not like I was using it.”

“So whose was it, anyway?” She’d never asked. Maybe Fletcher wasn’t the only insensitive one.

“My old girlfriend’s.”

“So is it, like, a tragic story?” She almost asked, “Did she die of brain cancer?” She didn’t, because what if the girl actuallyhad?See, she was getting more sensitive, too.

Avery grinned. He had even better teeth than Fletcher, she realized. Also a really good haircut. She’d never even noticed, because she almost never noticed guys anymore, because, well … Owen. Avery said, “It was tragic to me. She went back East to school last year, and this summer, she told me she didn’t want to do the long-distance thing anymore. She said she had to be free to follow her dreams, and I was holding her back. At least she was honest, I guess. Some girls return the ring. She returned the harness. I told her she could keep it, but she said she never liked climbing that much anyway.”

“Ouch,” Dyma said.

“Yep.”

“Well,” she said, “I definitely like climbing. But I’m still not letting you pay for my shoes. I’ll ask my mom for a pair for my Christmas present. I can climb next quarter, I guess.”

“Kinda sucks,” Avery said. “For me, I mean. You’re a good partner.” His face cleared. “Wait. I know. We can barter. You can help me with my Shakespeare class in exchange for shoe rental. It’s my English requirement, and the midterm did not go well. You don’t want to be standing downwind when my parents see that grade.”

“Are they seriously going to look?” she asked.

“Are you kidding? They’re taking me to lunch on Sunday. Mysterious timing, huh? That’s my performance review. You bet they’re going to look.”

“Why would you think English is my best thing? Dude. I’m an engineering major.”

“I know,” he said. “But you have to be better at it than me. You definitely have a better vocabulary. So—what do you think? Shoe rental in exchange for Shakespeare? What do you say?”

She said yes.

27

Past Tense

Owen could admit,now, that before he’d gone up to Seattle, he’d felt Dyma slipping through his hands. That despite his promise to himself to let this thing unfold in whatever way it was going to, he hadn’t even come close.

He’d been right to push it, though, because what he’d thought was a loss of interest in him had actually been confusion and misery. The lilt was back in her voice now, the sparkle in her eyes. He knew that, because they’d talked every day, even if it was just a quick goodnight.

“And, yep, Thermodynamics was a C-minus,” she told him on Saturday evening. “But at least it wasn’t a D, right? Though to be honest, it was close.”

“Might as well look on the bright side,” he agreed.

“Yeah. It still sucks, but I’ve got time to turn it around. Though it means I can’t come down for your game tomorrow, even though I’m dying here without you. I always heard those songs about that, but I never knew you could actually hurt from wanting to be with somebody, you know? But anyway,” she went on, breezy again, as if that had come out too honest, “I can’t miss a day of studyingandhave to make up my longest shift, because I’d have to trade with somebody else. Not right now, I can’t. Why did I ever say I’d work half of Sunday?”

“Because that’s what got you hired. Nobody but a hard worker like you wants to get up that early after Saturday night. Never mind, baby. Two weeks, and I’ll be up there to play the Seahawks and sneaking you into my room.”

“Oh, yeah? That’s pretty wild and crazy for Owen Johnson.”

“It sure is. But that’s how the bull gets when his favorite cow’s around. He’ll go right through the wall to get to her.”

“Oh, nice.” She was laughing. “I’m so flattered. So how about you? How’s your leg?”

“Not too bad,” he said, which wasn’t exactly true. He was still feeling it despite getting treatment on it every day this week. What was worse, the shift in his stance, slight as it was, had resulted in a little bit of tightness on his left side, which wasn’t ideal. The team with the fewest injuries tended to win, and theguywith the fewest injuries tended to keep starting, too. He asked, “Could we talk about the bull some more? I’ve got a few more things to say about that.”

She said, “No. Nice try distracting me, though. If it’s ‘not too bad,’ that means it’s still bad, but, see? I’m being tactful, because I’ve figured out that you don’t want me to think about your future or your career or whatever, or to ask you about it even if Idothink about it. It’s already important enough to you without me putting more pressure on. Which works for me, because I’ve got a perfectly good future of my own. I’m not looking to you to improve my visibility for my modeling career or something.”

He got a whole lot less relaxed. “Why would you say that?”

“Uh … because I plan to be an engineer? Because I don’t want to model for the preteen section of the catalog? Why, what does my innocent yet oddly sensitive comment suggest to you?”

“Nothing.”