a flare of surprise in her huge blue eyes. She cocked her head.
“Why?”
I fidgeted in the seat. “Come inside with me. It’s early, and I didn’t plan on being back here this soon. I’m going to guess you didn’t plan to sit alone in your room tonight, either.”
She regarded me steadily. No hint of what she was thinking played out across that perfect face, but still, somehow, I knew she was considering what I’d suggested. Her brain was weighing the pros and the cons, and in a second, she’d give me an answer.
“No,” she replied finally. “Actually, I didn’t plan to be home alone in my room tonight. I fully intended to spend the evening at the bar with Quinn and Gia and Nate—at least until I found someone to hook up with. But it wasn’t my scene, and to be honest, Nate and Gia were both driving me crazy. So I bailed, and then on my way back here, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to check out the Greek parties. Someone had texted me about Theta Lambda. I went in to see if there was anything fun happening . . . and you know what happened next.”
“So why didn’t you just let me take the van back and continue the hunt?” I meant it to sound funny, but it came out a little judgmental, even to my own ears.
“Because it didn’t take me five minutes of being in that house to realize I wasn’t in the mood tonight. Sometimes, when you realize you’re just going through the motions, it’s better for everyone to just go home and sleep. Or binge watch something worthwhile.”
My mouth twisted into a mocking grin. “What exactly do you consider worthwhile binge watching? Are we talking reality TV, or really quality shit?”
“Please.” She cast me a glance of incredulity. “I hate reality TV. I’m actually between shows right now. The other night, I finished watching the latest season of Jessica Jones, and now I’m in a post-binge slump.”
“Hmmm.” I tapped one finger on my knee, a little nervous about what I was about to admit. “Uh, how do you feel about older shows?”
Zelda shifted in her seat. “How old do you mean? Like black and white series from the fifties? Or something that ended five years ago?”
“Old school medical dramas.” I shrugged. “I kind of got hooked on them when I was in the hospital for . . .” I pointed at my legs. “This.”
“Seriously?” I noticed her eyes didn’t follow the direction I’d indicated. “I’d think the last thing you’d want to watch in the hospital were shows about sick people.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I’m a little masochist that way. I had this roommate—he’d been in for about a week before me, and then we were together in the same room for over a month before he was discharged—and we’d watch the episodes and lay bets on which patients would make it and which wouldn’t. It was kind of macabre, I guess, but when you’re flat on your broken back, you learn to make your own fun.”
“I guess.” She sounded dubious, and I didn’t blame her a bit. I’d learned early on that not everybody could understand the rarified world of spinal cord injuries. Until you’d walked that walk—or more accurately, not walked it—you couldn’t comprehend the way losing that ability changed everything. “So tell me what you’ve watched.”
“Oh, ER and Chicago Hope and—” I lowered my voice. “If you repeat this to anyone, I’ll swear you’re a liar . . . but even Grey’s Anatomy.”
“That’s blackmail fodder right there.” Zelda laughed.
“It is,” I agreed. “But I promise, I’m not suggesting that we watch that one. It’s probably too much of a chick show for you. My buddy from the hospital—he lives outside Philly—he sent me the first three seasons of St. Elsewhere this week. He says it’s quirky and off-beat—and it’s where Denzel and Howie Mandel got their start, I guess.”
“I’ve heard of it. I think I even caught an episode once, late at night.” Zelda seemed to be weighing her options before she gave a little sigh and pulled the car forward to find a spot. “Okay. I’ll give it a try. One episode, though, and then I’m out of here.”
Chapter Five
Zelda
“This is just . . . bizarre.” From his seat on the bed, leaning against the pillows, Eli shifted a little to get a better view of my face. “Right?”
“Bizarre, yeah . . . but good.” I was laying stomach down, my