Pike: It doesn’t feel like I am. It still feels like I’m really fucking far away.
Killian: Pa asked about you yesterday.
Pike: What did he want?
Killian: Was trying to get information out of me. I told him that you and the missus were happy and moved in together. I’m not sure he believed it for a second, but then I heard from one of my PI friends that Pa hired a private investigator to follow you around.
Pike: What a bloody psychopath. Good thing Cora and I are really living together.
Killian: Yeah, it helps your case immensely. But he’s doing everything he can to expose you. Let me ask you a question—do you like this girl? Could you actually see yourself with her?
Pike: Honestly . . . I could. I’m still trying to learn her backstory, but I like her courage. Her stubbornness. Her tenacity. And she’s chill, quirky at times, and also vibrant as fuck. She’s everything Iris never was and she keeps me on my toes. It’s fascinating.
Killian: Pike, are you—are you falling for her?
Pike: No, I don’t think so. Not yet, at least, but I could see it happening. The more I spend time with her, the more I can see us connecting. Making this into a reality.
Killian: Damn, I had no clue.
Pike: Me neither.
Killian: When do I get to meet her, you know, when you’re not wasted and on a Ferris wheel?
Pike: Probably when she doesn’t mind being in the same room as me for anything other than orgasms.
Killian: Keep working at it. Seems like you’re making progress.
Pike: You might be right. I think I am.
“I brought you some pizza,” I say to Keiko, who’s sitting at her desk, all alone once again.
“Deep dish?” she asks, lifting her head.
“Of course. I know how much you like it.” I know this because the last time I had lunch with Keiko, she spent the entire time talking about how deep dish is superior to regular pizza. Internally, I didn’t agree with her—I prefer New York-style pizza—but externally I nodded and smiled because Keiko is fragile and slightly unhinged at the moment, and I wasn’t sure what would happen if I didn’t agree.
“Then perhaps you would join me for a food respite?”
“That’s what I was hoping for,” I say as I walk into her classroom and pull up a chair next to her desk. I set down the pizza box along with the plates, napkins, cutlery, and water bottles I brought.
She pops open the box, lowers her head to the pizza, and takes a giant sniff, a sniff so deep her nostrils pull in. When she lifts up, she slowly lets the air out through puckered lips.
“After a rather ineffective, but proper, sniff test, I would like to announce, this round Italian dish is ready to be consumed.”
She’s so weird, but I bloody well like it.
With a fork and my hands, I scoop up a piece for each of us and set them on the plates. “Dig in, Keeks.”
Her hands pause and she tilts her head while taking me in. “You referred to me as Keeks.”
“Erm, was I not supposed to?”
“I don’t retain rules about what individuals may call me so long as it’s not derogatory, but only my best friends have referred to me as the shortened version of my name. Does that entail we are best friends?”
“You’re my only friend at this school, so I would say yes.”
She straightens, and for the first time since she broke up with Kelvin, I see a hint of a smile cross her face.
“That would make you my first best friend that is of the male species.”
“Then I’m honored,” I say.
She nods and cuts into her pizza. “If we are best friends, then that means we tell each other everything, correct?”
Not sure where she’s going with this and also not wanting to piss off the beast, I say, “I believe that’s correct.”
She nods and gives her next comment some thought. “If that is the case, then I would prefer for you to tell me something. You see, I have alienated myself from my other friends, by my choosing, not theirs. They reach out every day, but I have a sense of dread when I think about corresponding with them, and it’s because they remind me of Kelvin.”
“Do they bring him up?”
She shakes her head. “No. Physically being around them reminds me of Kelvin because I would converse with the ladies all about the carnal acts of love Kelvin and I experienced together. And I no longer have those conversations to share with them, therefore . . . well . . . I presume they wouldn’t care to have much to talk about with me anymore.”
“Keiko, that’s not true. They must have hung out with you before you had your, uh”—*swallows hard*—“your stories of carnal acts of love to share.”