stuff home. Like most teachers, though I wasn’t supposed to show bias, I had a few favorites at Rainbow Academy.
“Here you go. Ignore the note on the back.”
He flipped the card over immediately. I got the sense that if you told Ty the paint was wet, he’d put a palm in it to test you. “‘Erin, Lubriderm, three times a day.’ Should I even ask?”
“A toddler came in with eczema last week. Her parents aren’t big on organization.”
His brows went up. “So that’s their idea of care instructions?”
“Yep. Don’t worry, she’s better. I looked after her.” I smiled at him; his look lightened in response, like toddler rashes were in any way amusing. “The director’s name and phone number are on the front. You can make an appointment for a tour.”
“Thanks.”
Though I suspected the older woman I’d spoken to yesterday must have been his sitter, I didn’t ask. I chose not to give him an excuse to tell me how badly he needed to get home. So I just waved and went upstairs, leaving him with Erin’s care instructions and the info about my employer. In the apartment, Max was watching a movie.
“Productive day?” I asked.
“Not really. Tomorrow’s soon enough to start being ambitious.”
I wasn’t sure that word ever applied to Max, but his grades weren’t as bad as you’d expect from someone who partied all the time. As for me, I’d already bought my textbooks online in digital form, so I could go straight to campus with my tablet and a note-taking app. Leaving the dorm won’t disrupt my routine. I hope. This semester, I had four classes, along with a practicum, where I’d work in the classroom two days a week at the local junior high. Not student teaching; I wouldn’t start that until my senior year.
“Where are the other two?” I asked.
“Lauren’s at work, and Angus is shopping. He said he’ll drive her home later.” He paused, grinning at me. “If only there was some way you could keep in touch, other than passing messages through me.”
“Whatever.”
After rinsing off a day of sticky fingerprints, I fixed a bowl of cereal and sprawled on the couch. I was too late to make sense of Max’s movie, but it didn’t matter since I was just killing time until our roomies got home. If I wasn’t comfortable ignoring Max, I never would’ve agreed to live with him. Eventually, I got bored and finished hanging the pictures, though I tried to do it quietly to avoid bothering the downstairs neighbor.
Weirdly, I was a little disappointed that Ty didn’t come up to yell at us, even after Lauren and Angus got back at ten. But they were both too tired to hang out, so I ended up on the balcony again. I told myself I wasn’t going out there to spy, just to enjoy some tea before bed. At some point, while the rest of us were gone, Max must’ve put a chair out there, a wooden Adirondack. It faced sideways and took up most of the space, but it was surprisingly nice. Peaceful.
This time, Ty wasn’t by the fence. Relief shot through me. I didn’t care to interrupt another private moment. I wasn’t doing anything wrong, sitting on my balcony with a mug of Sleepytime tea, but it was a gray area since I could so easily invade his privacy. Tonight he was on the wicker love seat, and the empty spot beside him struck me as oddly poignant. I studied him as I sipped my drink. He had a backlit e-reader out there with him, head bent so the moon gilded lighter streaks in his coppery hair.
“You’re quite a devoted stargazer,” he said without looking up from his book. His voice was soft enough that I barely heard it...but he was speaking to me. Again.
I wondered why that was so thrilling. Calm down, he might be married. Taken. Something. He’s definitely in the market for day care, and—maybe I’m overthinking this.
“I just like it out here,” I answered, just as quietly.
Somehow this felt like a secret between the two of us. His spot and now mine—apparently, he didn’t mind sharing the night with me. I didn’t want to bother Angus or Max with our talk, and I’d rather Lauren didn’t join the convo, either. No need for self-analysis, right?
“The best part about living here.”
“What’re you reading?”
His answer came slow, as if he was a little unsure whether he should encourage me. “Some chapters for class tomorrow.”
“Oh, you’re a student? I thought you must have an office job already.”
“I do.”
“Night school?” I guessed.
“Yeah.”
“What are you studying?” I was conscious this was becoming more of an interrogation, so I resolved not to ask anything else unless he reciprocated. This was weirdly intimate, not being able to see his face, just the softness of our voices in the dark, warm air, perfumed with the flowers he’d planted below.
“Architecture.”
“Sounds interesting,” I said, and only just managed to keep from asking more questions in quick succession. How many years do you have left? What’s your day job? What kind of things do you want to build someday?
Honestly, until Ty, I had never been the irrepressibly nosy type. Something about him just made me want to dig and find out all the secret, hidden things. The impulse was a little alarming. In silence, I sipped my tea, thinking he was done with small talk for the night.
Then he said, “What about you?”
It felt momentous, which was pretty absurd. “I’m in my third year studying special education.” More than he’d asked, as that would give him a ballpark estimate of my age.
If he was interested.
But probably not.
In general, a certain type of guy went for me. They were usually sporty, extra tall, into outdoor activities, searching for a rugged girl to rock climb, go camping and be extreme with. That was definitely not my deal, even though I stood 5’11 in flats, and I put on muscle pretty easily. I worked out three times a week for my health, not because I was an athlete.
“That explains the day-care center,” he said as he stood. “I’m going in now. Good night, Nadia.”
A little shiver went through me, so stupid, because he remembered my name. My toes curled as he said it, and I hated that I was slightly breathless when I whispered, “’Night, Ty.”
Somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice piped up, He has a kid. This is crazy. But the logical reminder didn’t dispel his pull.
The next day, I found all my classes without problems, listened to first-class type of instructions and picked up course materials, and then I raced to work. It was a blur, and I didn’t get out until nearly seven. The delinquent father showed up muttering about a traffic jam, but this was a town, not a city. Since his kid had been crying for an hour, afraid she’d been forgotten, again, I wasn’t in the best mood when I left. Singing too loud to the radio burned off most of my annoyance, and I was okay by the time I got back to the apartment. But I sighed as I went up; our music
