It will be weird if we do. But, it’s not supposed to, and so I nod again. “Yeah, someone might see us.”
“Exactly.” He leans back and brushes his lips against my forehead before stepping back and opening my door for me. “What class are you going to?”
“Modern Political Thought.”
He nods. “That’s right. You liked your political science class last year,” he says.
I nod. “Actually, I hated it, but that was because of my professor and TA. I liked the course though, and have been considering declaring it my major.”
Pax’s lips tip with another grin. “What do you want to do after graduation?”
“Not a clue.”
“Really?”
“I know I don’t want to be a psychologist like my mom or in construction like my dad.”
He grins. “That leaves a lot of ground.”
“Tell me about it.”
Pax chuckles. “Drive safely.”
I give him a single-finger pistol.
“Be sure to put no finger guns in the rules,” he says, pointing at me before he closes the door so I can’t tell him that’ll never happen.
I sit in class, waiting for the professor to arrive. He’s always a couple of minutes late, and I’m generally a few minutes early. It’s a massive lecture hall with several hundred students. I pull out my notepad with the rules and add:
10. Finger guns are a plus. ;)
11. Every time it rains, be sure to stand outside with a boombox on your shoulder.
I grin as I write the rule and then take a picture to send to Pax.
“Hey.”
My phone slips from my grasp, hitting the floor with a thunk as Mike slides into the seat beside me. He reaches for it before I can process what has just happened. I hastily reach for my phone, praying he doesn’t see the screen. “Thanks,” I say, shoving it and my notebook into my bag. “Sorry.” I swallow, trying to arrange my thoughts.
“I thought I saw you in this class last week,” he says, leaning back in his seat. He sticks the pen behind his ear, sending me into a time warp dating back to high school when he did the exact same thing. “I’m a little surprised you’re taking the class and yet not at all,” he says.
“Why is that?”
“Because you’ve always been so intrigued about the ‘why’ rather than the ‘what’ in life. You like to ask questions, and you’re a learner.” He tilts his head. “But, you also loathe politics.”
“I don’t loathe politics.”
He laughs. “Yeah, you do. You never want to discuss them. You always assume they’re all corrupt.”
I shrug. “Too many are.”
He laughs again.
“I’ve been getting more interested in them. I used to see politics as a warzone. It seemed like anytime they were brought up, people argued and insulted each other. But, with Rae studying cetology and seeing how people could benefit from talking to someone like my mom, it was getting harder to avoid politics. I still don’t want to chat with a stranger about them, but I’m becoming more interested in the discussion. It seems like it’s the fear of having these discussions that have led to so many problems. Maybe if we’d all stop trying to talk over each other, we’d realize all sides have things they’re right and wrong about, and we all generally want the same things for each other and the world.”
Mike pulls the pen from behind his ear. “Your mind has always fascinated me.”
13
Paxton
I knock for a third time before checking my phone to ensure I have the details correct.
“Hey,” Poppy says, opening the front door. She’s wearing a cobalt blue dress that touches her knees, her long red hair in curled waves over her shoulders, drawing attention to her bright green eyes and the subtle hint of freckles that pepper her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. Her lips are glossy and red and so damn distracting I’m undoubtedly breaking one of our rules as I stare too long.
“Sorry. I was doing Rae’s hair and didn’t hear the door.” She pulls the door fully open, inviting me inside.
“That’s okay,” I say, glancing at her dress again. I’ve seen her dressed up for parties and numerous events over the years, but something catches my attention this evening. Maybe it’s because she’s finally smiling with the same assuredness that I always imagine her with or because the memory of her is starting to change and have more than just a placeholder in my thoughts. “You look really nice.”
Poppy looks at the dress, smoothing the fabric with her hands that is tight around her shoulders and chest and then loosely flares around her waist and legs. “Thanks. We’re kind of flying blind because Lincoln won’t tell us what’s happening tonight.” She points at me, a gentle crease between her eyes. “Do you know? Should we be wearing pants? I told her I’m betting he plans an activity of some kind. He knows she doesn’t want a party.”
I grin, taking the excuse to look her over again. “What you’re wearing is great.”
She looks at my jeans and dark sweater, the crease smoothing with assurance. “Are you going to tell me what we’re doing?”
“Sorry. I’ve been sworn to secrecy.”
She balks. “We need to add another rule, no secrets.”
“Secrets are the spice of life.”
“Nice try, smooth talker.”
I chuckle and raise the birthday present in my hands. “I’m going to set this on the table. You guys have to finish getting ready. We can’t be late.”
“Is that a hint?”
“Go!”
She narrows her eyes before turning and striding back through the apartment, turning into Rae’s bedroom.
“Hey, Pax!” Rae yells a few seconds later. “I’m almost ready.”
“Take your time. I’m just going to raid your Oreo stash.”
“We’re out!” she yells back.
This doesn’t surprise me. Rae and Poppy have always been junk food addicts and can destroy a package of cookies in the span of a movie.
I pick up the TV remote, but before I can flip it on, someone knocks. Arlo, Olivia, Rose, and Ian are outside. “It’s
