He pushes a plate at me and even though the cheese is cold and congealed now, it smells amazing. I am too hungry to refuse.
He says good night and that I can come get him if I need anything, like it’s settled that I’ll stay and eat and sleep on that futon by myself. Then he goes into his bedroom and shuts the door.
I eat fast, standing away from the futon so I won’t spill on anything but myself. Then I kick my boots off but leave all my clothes on. I don’t make the bed, just throw down the sheet and lie on top of it. Pull the blanket over me and try to take up as little space as I can, like sleeping on half the futon will be half the burden. I thought I understood and I don’t and I have that math class feeling in my chest. The tightness pulls in on me and my insides might pop like a balloon in a vise. In my head, I kiss him over and over. His lips are chapped, but mostly soft. That horrified look on his face. My thoughts are too bright and loud for me to fall asleep. But I’m warm. At least I am warm, and my hand feels a little bit better.
* * *
When the sky is just beginning to turn blue, I fold the blankets and sheets, stack the pillows next to them. I don’t think I can push the futon back into a couch myself. I worry it will make noise if I try, so I leave it. Tiptoe into the kitchen to place my plate in the sink, then I sneak out the door, carrying my boots down the stairs so my footsteps won’t make noise.
I drive to The Commons, park one street over from yesterday. Maybe today I’ll get up the nerve to ask Carly about her couch. Today is also the day we get paid and divvy up the tip jar and I don’t know how much money it will be, but maybe it’s enough. Maybe one of those Xeroxed posters with the fringed edge will have a phone number I can call, a room I can rent for cheap. Or maybe I’ll buy a map and drive away to find someplace new, where I haven’t humiliated myself yet.
I sit on a bench across from Decadence and wait for it to open. The clouds break apart and a beam of sun shines through. I close my eyes and pretend I can absorb the light like a sunflower.
When I open my eyes again, Adam is walking toward me. I want to get up and walk away, but he sees me see him, so there’s no exit that isn’t awkward.
“Hey,” he calls, with a bend in his voice like he’s worried. “You didn’t have to leave. I was going to make pancakes.”
In the sunlight, I can see the freckles on his nose. The chapped skin on his lips that I felt with my own. He looks kind. Normal. And I feel terrible for all the things I thought he could be.
I pick at a bubble of paint on the bench. “I didn’t want to bother you.”
“Did you sleep okay?” he asks, like he actually wants the answer. I don’t think anyone in my entire life has ever been so wound up about whether I slept through the night.
“Yeah.” When my answer makes him smile, I smile without even meaning to, like I’m a mirror.
“What happened—it’s not—that’s not why I invited you—”
“It’s fine,” I say, replaying the part from last night when he stepped away because he didn’t trust me to stop kissing him. I watch a gull swoop in to grab an old french fry from the ground. “It’s fine.”
“I was homeless once. And no one noticed me. So I’m trying… I’m trying to notice you. But maybe I’m not…” He takes a deep breath. “Maybe I’m not doing it right.”
My nose stings. I hate that he called me homeless, like I’m already stuck this way. I’m tipping on the edge of tears and I wish Carly would come and open the door to Decadence so I’d have a reason to walk away.
“How old are you?” Adam asks.
“Nineteen.” I don’t let it snag my voice, so it comes out like truth. Eighteen is too convenient and I know I can’t pass for twenty-one. I look young for sixteen when I don’t try hard enough.
Adam studies my face like he’s testing this number—stretching to see if it breaks. “You working all day?”
“Till six.”
He reaches in his pocket, pulls out a key. “In case you want to shower on your lunch break, okay? You can have the place to yourself.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I wasn’t trying—” He looks like he’s about to cry, “I wasn’t trying to use you, okay? I wish someone had helped me. That’s all it is.” His eyes are so green.
I take the key from him. Loop the ring around my finger, squeeze it tight in my palm.
“There’s towels in the linen closet. Poke around as much as you want. Whatever you need, okay?” Adam pats my shoulder, quick and awkward. “I’ll stop by on my way home, and we’ll—we’ll see, if you want to stay again, okay?”