Page 84 of The Bet
“You didn’t trust me before?”
“I didn’t know you. You had a reputation.”
“There’s nothing to it. It’s all conjecture.”
“I’m not so sure.”
He let out a long breath. “Why is it never possible to have a normal conversation with you?”
“We are having a normal conversation.” But she knew what he meant. It was true. They always seemed to be bickering.
“Come over when you’re ready. I’m in all day.”
An hour later, she buzzed up to his apartment. He was in a gray hoodie and lounge pants and had bare feet. It caught her off guard, because she was so used to seeing him dressed up, even in casual jeans and a t-shirt, they would be designer jeans and designer t-shirts. And she felt odd staring at his bare feet, as if it gave her a personal and more intimate insight into him.
“I don’t wear a suit to work,” he said, maybe because he caught her looking, maybe because her gaze lingered too long.
“It must be a perk of the job, being able to wear what you want.”
“It is. Do you want a drink? Something warm? Coffee, tea? Something else?”
“No, thanks.”
“College winding down now?”
“It’s like a ghost town. People are starting to go home for the long weekend.”
“When are you leaving?” he asked, his arms folded across his chest, the draw string from his hoodie hanging down over his chest.
“I’m not going home for Thanksgiving.”
He looked perplexed. “You’re not? I thought all starving students rushed home for Thanksgiving.”
Not this one. She couldn’t afford to travel home for Thanksgiving and had decided to go just the once at Christmas. It made sense with it being a longer break then. “I’ll go home for Christmas.” She didn’t need to explain to someone like him why she could only pick one time of year to go home.
“Where’s home?”
“Cleaver. It’s a small town near Pittsburgh.”
“It probably doesn’t take too long to fly back?”
“I guess not.” Not that she was flying. For her it was 9 hour train journey. “Cara’s gone home.”
“She has?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yes.”
“So it’s just you at home?”
“Yes.” She smiled, letting him know she was okay about it, and that she didn’t want that pitiful look from him.
“How’s her ankle?”
“Fine, back to normal now.”
“Good. Are you girls planning on going to any more women’s marches?”
“If they have some more, then sure.”
