Page 70 of Roommate's Guide to Love

“Why did you?” I ask.

She looks at George, and the soft smile she gives him through her bright pink lipstick gives me the warm fuzzies. “Sometimes you think something is wrong. You convince yourself all the reasons why you shouldn’t do it. But then one day you realize those reasons are a bunch of horseshit.”

I know I was paranoid earlier about people knowing about me and Porter, but does Mrs. Metcalf know? I mean, I always thought she was psychic, but damn, that one hit a little too close to home.

Also hearing my middle school librarian swear is weird.

“That and he drives a nice car. I’ve always been a sucker for a Corvette.”

“Damn straight!” George says, making everyone laugh before the room falls to an eerie silence.

I look toward the back hallway, where everyone seems to be looking.

Ah, now I get it.

“Everyone! I hear that I’m the topic of conversation these days,” Porter says, holding Grace in one arm and pushing her stroller in another. And wait. Did he put on a pink T-shirt to match her? Holy shit, he did. “So if everyone could have a seat, we’re going to clear the air and set the ground rules.”

I know teachers who didn’t have as much command over their students as Porter does right now. Seemingly everyone rushes to a seat, and as if somehow people know what’s about to happen, they start pouring in the front door. Was there an announcement? There had to have been, because how else would my brother Simon, who just walked in the door, be here?

“Everyone, this is Grace. Grace, these are the idiots who can’t keep their mouths shut.”

A chorus of little hellos in tones I’ve never heard from these patrons fills the air. I think Harry even does the baby two-finger wave. And poor Grace…her confused face is now scrunched and she buries her head into Porter’s shoulder.

“I’m not going to go into every detail of how Grace came to be in my care, because they’re none of your business, but here’s what I’ll tell you so you can all shut up. She’s my niece. Yes, her mother is my half-sister. And she has asked me to raise Grace. And I’ve agreed to do it.”

After a second of shock, the mumbles start mumbling. Which then grow into shouting. People are trying to ask Porter questions. Some are just talking loudly amongst themselves. Plain and simple, this is a middle school classroom gone rogue.

“Hey!” I yell, channeling my teacher voice that apparently hasn’t gone away. “Shut it so he can tell y’all the truth, so you can quit running your mouths!”

I watch as everyone’s eyes go wide, then they quiet and find their seats again.

“Thank you.”

I catch a glimpse of Mrs. Metcalf, who shoots me a wink. “I always knew you’d have that teacher voice in you.”

I return the wink as Porter starts talking again.

“This is going to be an adjustment for me, clearly. Which is also why Quinn is going to be staying with me.” The crowd starts ooohing and ahhing before Porter cuts them off. “And minds out of the gutter, people. This is nothing more than her helping me with Grace and helping me out here. We’re just roommates. Nothing else.”

I see everyone’s eyes turn toward me. “That’s exactly right. It’s nothing more. Just a friend helping a friend.”

Porter and I share a look of understanding before the mob swarms him to get a better look at Grace. Which is fine by me. Let them look at her. Because that means no one is looking at me.

Roommates only was my idea. It was my demand. I needed that boundary.Weneeded it.

So why does it hurt so bad?

“You know, Quinn, fences are meant to be burned down.”

I do a double take to Mrs. Metcalf, who I think is the only one in the bar not fussing over Grace. “What was that?”

Mrs. Metcalf gives me her warm smile that comforted me so many days all those years ago as she signals for me to come closer. “Fences. Walls. Boundaries. They’re never meant to be permanent. Even ones made of stone eventually fall.”

I think I know what she means, but that would mean she knows what I’m thinking, and that can’t be because she’s not really a mind reader.

I don’t think.

But, just to make sure, I offer a reply back. “But they’re meant for safety.”

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