Page 79 of Class Act

“What happened?”

I fought back against another wave of emotion. “I had kind of a rough afternoon. No biggie.” I took another deep breath and cursed the way it was uneven and raspy. “What’s up with you?”

His voice was amused. “Nice try. I was calling to invite you up for dinner if you’re free, but I’m much more interested in hearing what has you so upset.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure I’ll be able to make it tonight. I have . . . other things going on. Rain check?” I tried to sound upbeat, but it honestly came out so much like a child trying to be brave that I closed my eyes, causing some tears to fall.

“Do these other plans involve tissues and being wrapped in a blanket?”

“I might get some ice cream, too.”

“Sweetheart, what happened?” his tone was coaxing, asking me to give up my walls.

“It was only a thing at school. I’m really okay.”

He paused, and I could picture his face as he changed tactics. “I don’t know everything about you, yet, but I do know you’re not the type to cry without reason.”

“Maybe I bawl my eyes out every night,” I said, surprised to notice it was getting easier to hold back the tears. In fact, I felt a smile tugging and reached up to feel it with my fingertips.

“I doubt that. But, if you don’t want to talk about it with me, I guess I can respect that.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m not letting you go, though, until I’m convinced you’re okay. Safe topics of conversation could include the weather, recent changes in traffic congestion, or how to pick a ripe watermelon.”

“I was kind of cold today. And I miss the fall leaves. Now it’s all brown,” I sniffed again and leaned back into the couch.

“It took me ten minutes longer than usual to get home today thanks to congestion on Main Street. I’m thinking about taking alternate routes home.”

“That’s a smart plan.”

“Tell me about your last boyfriend.”

Well, that was out of the blue.

“Why?” I asked, totally baffled.

“I’m curious.”

“That wasn’t on the list of approved talking points,” I hedged.

“Tell me anyway.”

A sudden irrational bravery took over, and I tugged the blanket tighter around me. “Okay. His name was Garron.”

“Garron sounds like a punk.”

I laughed. And then, I was so surprised by the fact I could laugh right now that I did it again. “He was not a punk. He was nice. Academic. We went to a lot of nice, cultural, brainy type things together.”

“How long did you date?”

“A couple of months.”

“Why did you break up?”

“I . . .” I paused, thinking. “I guess because it wasn’t really . . . I felt like it wasn’t a big deal if we didn’t see each other. I think I was lonelier in the relationship than I was without him.”

My cheeks heated over the vulnerable admission, and I was so grateful to have the barrier of the phone between us.

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