something to erase the seductive feel of Julian’s touch from my skin. I needed someone normal.
“ I was really surprised to hear from you,” Zach said as we descended the stairs. “You didn’t seem all that happy with me the last time that I saw you.”
I shrugged . “I have a tendency to overreact.”
“ S o I’ve noticed .”
H e smiled down at me . His face was open and relaxed, but balanced out by a trace of mischievousness.
“ I f you were actually a nice guy then you wouldn’t be agreeing with me.” I pushed open the door at the bottom of the stairs. It was supposed to require a keycode to get inside the building, but the lock had been broken for ages. “A nice guy would tell me I’m perfect just the way I am.”
H e laughed . “Maybe my perfect girl overreacts, did you think about that?”
“ G ood point .” I stopped at the sidewalk. “Where did you park?”
Z ach kept walking . “I don’t have a car.”
I raised my eyebrows . “You took transit all the way across town. That must have taken forever.”
“ G ot to admit it took longer than I thought.” His smile was a little bashful. “Your apartment is a bit more South side than downtown.”
“ N ot the posh digs you were expecting from the uppity college girl?” I asked, unable to resist the dig.
“ H ey , I’ll own that,” he said apologetically. “You were blowing me off and I just reacted.”
“ I t’s cool .”
I pressed close to him as we entered the transit station. I usually tried to avoid the train and stick with taking buses. Something about being underground with the heat and steam unnerved me.
N ot to mention , I wasn’t especially fond of the constant smell of urine and body odor from all of the homeless people that slept down there at night.
I leaned against a support pillar and Zach moved up next to me.
“ S o let’s start over ,” he said casually. “Tell me about yourself, not-college-girl.”
“ T here’s not a lot to tell,” I said hesitantly.
“ Y ou still live with your parents.”
“ J ust my mom . My dad was killed by a drunk driver.”
“ O h ,” he said, with that startled look on his face that people always get when you reveal a tragedy about someone they don’t know — the mix of sympathy and discomfort. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“ I t was almost four years ago,” I said casually. “And my Mom got sick pretty soon after that so she hasn’t really been able to work.”
“ Y our mom’s sick , with what?”
“ N on-Hodgkins lymphoma that’s spread to her lungs. She’s doing better — just finished the last round of chemotherapy — but she still might need radiation treatment, depending on how much the tumors have shrunk when she goes back to the oncologist.”
“ J esus ,” he whispered. “There’s no one else to help you out?”
“ I have a sister and brother , she’s four and he’s sixteen, but I pretty much end up taking care of them, too.”
“ H ence the second job .”
“ R ight .”
“ D id you quit school to take care of your mom?”
“ P retty much . Even if they didn’t need the help, it just got too hard to concentrate. I was already starting to miss class and turn my assignments in late. It just made sense to withdraw.”
“ A re you going to go back?”
“ I always thought so , now I don’t know.”
A train pulled into the station, bringing a powerful rush of air and heat that blew my hair across my face. I had to hold down the cotton skirt I wore with both hands to keep it from flying up around my waist.
Z ach held my arm as we boarded the nearest car. “That’s a lot to deal with. ”
“ I t could be worse .”
“ S ounds like it could be a lot better too.”
“ T hat’s life .” I shook off the feelings of despair that always threatened to wrap around me like a blanket made of ice and dread. “What about you? What’s your story?”
“ N othing that dramatic .” He
“ I was really surprised to hear from you,” Zach said as we descended the stairs. “You didn’t seem all that happy with me the last time that I saw you.”
I shrugged . “I have a tendency to overreact.”
“ S o I’ve noticed .”
H e smiled down at me . His face was open and relaxed, but balanced out by a trace of mischievousness.
“ I f you were actually a nice guy then you wouldn’t be agreeing with me.” I pushed open the door at the bottom of the stairs. It was supposed to require a keycode to get inside the building, but the lock had been broken for ages. “A nice guy would tell me I’m perfect just the way I am.”
H e laughed . “Maybe my perfect girl overreacts, did you think about that?”
“ G ood point .” I stopped at the sidewalk. “Where did you park?”
Z ach kept walking . “I don’t have a car.”
I raised my eyebrows . “You took transit all the way across town. That must have taken forever.”
“ G ot to admit it took longer than I thought.” His smile was a little bashful. “Your apartment is a bit more South side than downtown.”
“ N ot the posh digs you were expecting from the uppity college girl?” I asked, unable to resist the dig.
“ H ey , I’ll own that,” he said apologetically. “You were blowing me off and I just reacted.”
“ I t’s cool .”
I pressed close to him as we entered the transit station. I usually tried to avoid the train and stick with taking buses. Something about being underground with the heat and steam unnerved me.
N ot to mention , I wasn’t especially fond of the constant smell of urine and body odor from all of the homeless people that slept down there at night.
I leaned against a support pillar and Zach moved up next to me.
“ S o let’s start over ,” he said casually. “Tell me about yourself, not-college-girl.”
“ T here’s not a lot to tell,” I said hesitantly.
“ Y ou still live with your parents.”
“ J ust my mom . My dad was killed by a drunk driver.”
“ O h ,” he said, with that startled look on his face that people always get when you reveal a tragedy about someone they don’t know — the mix of sympathy and discomfort. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“ I t was almost four years ago,” I said casually. “And my Mom got sick pretty soon after that so she hasn’t really been able to work.”
“ Y our mom’s sick , with what?”
“ N on-Hodgkins lymphoma that’s spread to her lungs. She’s doing better — just finished the last round of chemotherapy — but she still might need radiation treatment, depending on how much the tumors have shrunk when she goes back to the oncologist.”
“ J esus ,” he whispered. “There’s no one else to help you out?”
“ I have a sister and brother , she’s four and he’s sixteen, but I pretty much end up taking care of them, too.”
“ H ence the second job .”
“ R ight .”
“ D id you quit school to take care of your mom?”
“ P retty much . Even if they didn’t need the help, it just got too hard to concentrate. I was already starting to miss class and turn my assignments in late. It just made sense to withdraw.”
“ A re you going to go back?”
“ I always thought so , now I don’t know.”
A train pulled into the station, bringing a powerful rush of air and heat that blew my hair across my face. I had to hold down the cotton skirt I wore with both hands to keep it from flying up around my waist.
Z ach held my arm as we boarded the nearest car. “That’s a lot to deal with. ”
“ I t could be worse .”
“ S ounds like it could be a lot better too.”
“ T hat’s life .” I shook off the feelings of despair that always threatened to wrap around me like a blanket made of ice and dread. “What about you? What’s your story?”
“ N othing that dramatic .” He
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