Her cheeks stained pink as she nodded.
“What else do you like to do?” Jake asked.
“Well, I play online games. You know . . . where you become a character in a simulated world and interact with other people doing the same thing. It’s really quite fascinating. You can live a whole alternate life there. Be whatever you want. Do whatever you want.”
Trey watched her as she focused on her food while she talked. And by interacting with people online, she could totally avoid interacting with real people. He had a strong feeling she spent most of her spare time hiding from the world, and he doubted she dated much. Yet, she didn’t seem shy about sex.
“Have you had any serious relationships?” Trey asked.
She took a bite of her food, then chewed slowly. “No, not really. I mean, I did date a guy for about eight months once, but his company transferred him to New York and it sort of ended. Mostly I keep it pretty casual.” She shrugged and took a sip of her wine. “I mean, I’ve got my life pretty well set. I don’t really need a man. Except for sex, of course.”
“Of course.” Jake raised an eyebrow at Trey.
Jake seemed to understand as clearly as Trey did that Danielle would not readily let someone into her life, because she would be afraid of depending on that relationship, then possibly losing it and being left all alone again.
“If it’s sex you’re looking for, does that mean these visits could become a regular thing?” Trey asked.
She picked up her burgundy linen napkin and smoothed it across her lap. “Well, would you like them to be?”
How could she sound so doubtful, as if she thought he might tell her no?
Trey glanced at Jake, then back to Danielle. “Absolutely. I think it would be great. How about next weekend you stay at my place?”
The light breeze brushed across Danielle’s cheeks, her hair swirling behind her as she pedaled the borrowed bicycle along the river. The tiny ripples on the surface of the water glittered in the afternoon sun, and the tall trees, the leaves rustling softly, sent dappled sunlight along the smooth gray surface of the bike path.
She had forgotten how beautiful it was here. The combination of the lovely setting and the pleasant heart-pumping activity made her feel vibrantly alive. Her gaze strayed to Trey and Jake riding alongside her, wearing shorts and Tshirts. And the view of hard male muscle and tight buns didn’t hurt either.
As they reached the top of the current rise, the library tower from the university came into view between the trees along the shore, off to their left. Then, through a clearing in the trees, she could see the whole campus laid out below them. The sprawling psychology building, the blocky fortress that was the mathematics and computer science building, the chemistry and biology buildings linked by glass walkways. And new buildings she didn’t recognize.
“Those are the new residences they built about five years ago,” Jake said, noticing her gaze.
She nodded, remembering how difficult it had been for students to find a place to live. Building those residences would have been a godsend to the students here . . . yet the change bothered her. Things had been perfect the way they’d been. Now things had changed.
They continued to ride, the downward slope making it a fast, easy pace. The small blocky forms in the distance grew to life-sized multistoried buildings. They crossed Riverside Road, then past the southernmost parking lot, then along the main path across campus. A few students sat along the small lake—more like a large pond, actually—feeding the ducks. Attendance was light during the summer, she remembered.
“Do you want to go see Hanover House?” Trey asked.
That was where Danielle had shared a residence room with Harmony. Where she had found her first real friend . . . a friend she’d let slip through her fingers as soon as she’d left this place.
“I talked to the administrator last week and he said we could go in and see your old room.”
“I . . . uh . . . don’t know.”
“Why don’t we grab a beer at the pub first?” Jake suggested.
“That sounds like a great idea.” She could use a drink before rousing any more memories from her past.
The pub hadn’t changed much in all these years. They walked down the stairs to a dimly lit room of round tables each surrounded by chairs, anywhere from three to six per table. While here, one wouldn’t know if it was sunny or snow-ridden outside. No outside light penetrated the Cave, as it was called.
Trey and Danielle sat down while Jake wandered toward the bar. Only one other table was occupied. A young man and woman, books spread out on the table in front of them as they sipped beer from pilsner glasses.
Jake plunked a pitcher of beer in front of them, then put down a tower of three glasses. He unstacked them, then tipped the pitcher to fill each with the amber, fuzzy liquid.
She hadn’t had beer in years, but the bitter, yeasty taste reminded her of good times spent with people who had been her friends—including the two men at her side. She sipped again, the cold beer refreshing after the long ride here. She hadn’t liked beer when she’d arrived at university, but it was aff ordable, especially with a pitcher shared with others . . . and made her feel part of the crowd. She’d liked that feeling. So she’d acquired a taste for beer.
“So, Jake, you said you teach now,” said Danielle. “Math, right?”
Jake shook his head.
She raised an eyebrow. “Computers?”
Trey chuckled. “You’ll never guess.”
That could only mean one thing. “No, you don’t teach philosophy?”
“That’s the one,” Jake confirmed.
“But you always liked subjects with definite right or wrong answers. Things that didn’t have shades of gray.” Then
