whole face. And apparently the waiter is too, because he mumbles and scurries away.
“I think you have an admirer,” I tease.
Alice winks. “He’s cute.”
Tall and thin, his hair cropped short, our waiter almost looks too young to be working. “Very,” I agree, and as we unwrap our chocolates, I start to tell her about last night.
Our food has just arrived when Alice sees someone she knows on the other side of the street.
“Colin! Over here!” she calls, jumping up so suddenly that she almost knocks over our table. And given the taste of my first bite of the French toast, I would lay down my life to protect our food.
The guy weaves through the limited traffic on the street and makes his way to our table. He’s my height, thin, with dark hair and a sweet smile. A smile that he gives to Alice, along with a kiss on the cheek. His light gray T-shirt has a stylized human heart graphic on the front, and his well-worn jeans are splattered with paint.
Another admirer?
“Colin, this is my roommate, Abby.” Alice smiles. “Abby, Colin and I lived in the same building growing up. We went to the same school until Colin transferred out. What are you doing here?”
He pulls her in for another hug just as our waiter passes, his face decidedly less happy than before.
“I’m doing a summer intensive at the Art Institute. Are you doing the high school program too? I can’t believe I haven’t seen you on campus or at the mixers!”
Alice’s gaze drops, and I feel this overwhelming need to dive between them and rescue her. Clearly they don’t know each other that well.
“I also live in Chicago!” I intercede. “But I’m in Evanston.”
“Join us,” Alice says, grabbing a chair from the next table and shoving it to my side of the table. “Share with Abby. We think the waiter has a crush on me, and I don’t want him wondering whether I’m single.”
Maybe not an admirer . . .
Colin grins and winks across the table. “Do you mind if I share your side of the table?”
Soulful eyes, a sweet freckle under his left one, rich, dark skin? No, I definitely don’t mind. “Have a seat. You’re also welcome to share my French toast. There’s no way I can finish it myself.”
“Oooh, good idea.” Abby bounces in her seat, eyes flashing. “If you’re both eating off the same plate, the waiter will definitely believe you’re together.”
Colin throws his arm around the back of my chair and picks up his fork with his left hand. “How’s this, sweetness? Clear enough for your boyfriend?”
Colin smells like a perfect mixture of fresh soap and coffee, basically my crack. “You’re sure this isn’t too forward for you?” he whispers, fingers tickling my shoulder. “After all, we just met.”
I should be irritated. I should be annoyed with Alice for asking a stranger to join our lunch. But I can’t be. Because our waiter is back with a glass of water for Colin, and Colin’s fingers are playing with the sleeve of my T-shirt, and Alice is grinning like mad, and the waiter is blushing, and maybe Saturday isn’t such a bad day after all.
“So, what’s Colin’s story?” I ask Alice when we finally make it back to our room. We spent the better part of the afternoon reading the paper in the quad at the center of campus. While I know that eventually I’ll have to face Zeke, it was kind of nice to hear from Alice that he’d said he would be off campus today and I didn’t need to worry about running into him.
Alice plops back onto her bed, grabbing her Moleskine. Which means I have about ninety seconds before I lose her to the poem brewing in her brain. “He’s great. You know the type. Volunteers at a soup kitchen, helps old ladies cross the street, the usual. Totally comfortable with his sexuality, at least from the outside. He was actually the first person to ever come out to me.”
I hate that the sensation in my chest isn’t disappointment; it’s relief. Because whether or not I would be willing to admit it, I was trying to force myself to be interested in cute, flirty Colin. But given that he’s not straight, I don’t have to use any time we spend together convincing myself I’m romantically interested in him. Especially since he’s exactly the type of intense artist I came to Huntington to meet. Well, except for not being straight. And