Chance
Ivy and I blunder our way through the rest of the weekend on a steady diet of ice cream and classic cowboy films. Ivy doesn’t love old movies, but when given the choice between guns and chick flicks, she chooses wisely. Watching other people’s happily ever afters would just rub salt in her wound.
Of course, mooning over cowboys isn’t much better.
Sunday proves to be a challenge, as Ivy spends extra time trying to look irresistibly unattractive in hopes of regaining Dave’s attention. How he manages to escape either one of us spotting him at church has both of us perplexed, until a mutual friend spills that he left Friday to go home for the weekend.
Coward.
Knowing that he chose to hide instead of facing her ticks Ivy off enough to pull her out of her pout and get her focus back on school, though she has developed an interesting new habit of mumbling man-hate whenever she thinks she’s alone.
I’ve forgiven her for making me leave the Halloween party before I could spy Noah dancing, mostly because she let me pick the movies. Besides, it’s given me something to look forward to needling Noah about today.
Despite the sunshine, a cold breeze again compels me to abandon my favorite tree in favor of the dreaded but warm math lab forty-five minutes early. Installing myself at our usual table, I pull out my math homework and make some lame attempts to tackle it but end up texting Ivy most of the time. It seems Professor Plum has finally moved past her prune fixation and on to fertility foods.
Stifled amusement at Ivy’s latest comment fades when Noah shows up, deposits himself in a chair, and commandeers my assignment without so much as a hello. Forehead resting against his fingertips, he’s taking this simple-for-him math far too seriously. I can’t resist the temptation to tease him.
“Hey, Noah. Glad to see you too!”
“Number four requires a different formula than the one you used. Can you see why?” He points to my paper and picks up his pencil.
“It was a great weekend, thanks!” I’m pretty impressed with my approximation of Amy’s enthusiastic chatter. “Especially seeing you dance at the Halloween party. Definitely the highlight of my week.”
He levels me with dagger eyes, and I give him my brightest fake smile. “You didn’t see me dance,” he says.
“Oh, but I did! And can I say you were fantastic? Amy really brings out the—”
“Nice try, but I didn’t dance with Amy.”
Dang. Called my bluff. “You didn’t?”
One eyebrow lifts to break the ice in his glare.
“You didn’t. Huh. Amy was pretty convinced she could—”
He heaves a sigh, and his prickly expression turns . . . tired? “Look, I don’t want to talk about it, okay? Amy could not convince me to . . . anything. There’s nothing there. I’ve already had to have this discussion with her. Three times. So I would really appreciate not rehashing it again here. Can we just do the math?”
Huh.
What can I say to that? We do the math. It’s fairly straightforward once Noah explains it, which is a good thing because I spend most of my mental energy trying to figure out what has him so down. It’s not like he’s normally a ball of laughs or anything, but he usually takes things in stride. Not so today.
We wrap up, and I’m disappointed to see that we haven’t used the full hour. Not that I want to spend more time doing math, but I want Mom to get her money’s worth, right?
And, maybe, I’m worried I’ve upset him.
“Hey,” I say as he stands to leave. “I’m sorry if I—”
He cuts me off. “It’s not you,” he says. I’m shocked when, instead of bolting without a word, he meets my eye and holds for a beat. He starts to say something, stops himself, and settles on “See you next week” as he leaves.
I spend the walk home chastising myself for taking the teasing too far, worrying about Noah, and brainstorming something I can do with Ivy that will distract us both. Ice-skating seems promising—cheap entertainment plus moderate exercise—until I open the door to our apartment, straight into Ivy and Dave standing nose-to-nose. They step apart, embarrassed, then Dave pulls Ivy back in and whispers something in her ear before dashing out the door. I’ve just closed it and turned to get the lowdown when he bursts back in.
“Thanks, Grace,” he says, accosting me with a quick hug before dashing out again.
“What on earth?” I demand, but Ivy is so giddy I can’t get a word out of her. “Ivy! Explain!”
She pauses her twirling long enough to enlighten me. “You know how mad I was that he couldn’t even face me on Sunday? Well, I shouldn’t have been. He went home to talk to his dad, and his dad convinced him to give us a chance!”
I’m happy for Ivy, but there’s more than a hint of envy tainting it. I squash the green monster into a corner and put on my happiest happy face. Ivy tells me how lucky she is, and I agree wholeheartedly. Seeing their affection brings a pang of regret at the loss of Ethan’s attention, but my heart knows it wasn’t going anywhere with him.
I ignore the refrain of the Harry Connick Jr. song “But Not for Me” from Mom’s oldies playlist going through my head.