Foreseen (The Rothston Series) Page 7

  I opened my eyes to give Pete the signal to get scarce, when I saw the time. “Crap.” I got up and ran my hand through my hair as I hunted down my laptop and books.

  “What are you doing?” Jenna asked. She rose from the bed looking like she might block my exit. That was too bad. I was about to spoil her plans, but there was nothing I could do about this one.

  “Bad timing, Jenna. I’ve got a meeting for my philosophy paper. We can get together tomorrow.”

  It worked. She pouted a moment longer before agreeing, and then nearly skipped out of my room. Pete, on the other hand, grinned as soon as she was gone.

  “Where you really going, Langston?” he asked.

  I stuffed the laptop into my backpack. “Telling the truth, dude. I’ve gotta go get Kinzie Nicolosi to work on our philosophy paper.”

  “Jeez, Langston. You got girls lining up now. I’m going to get one of those paper number thingies for outside your door. Take a number and wait your turn. Langston will service you all,” he called out like a carnival barker.

  I punched him in the chest as I heaved the backpack over my shoulder. “Shut up, Deitrich. I’m doing homework. That’s all.”

  “It’s a good cover, dude,” he responded as we walked out of my room.

  ψ

  I opened the passenger door and held it as Kinzie sized up the pearl white Maserati before she got in.

  “I’ve seen this car around campus. It didn’t know it was yours,” she said in an impressed tone.

  “It’s a good car,” I said trying to sound nonchalant or at least avoid bragging. I liked power and style, and the Maserati blended them better than anything else. I fit myself into the brown leather of the driver’s seat to see Kinzie still grinning. I would have never guessed she was into cars.

  “The Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle. I always wondered how many people got that,” she added enthusiastically, and I laughed. The car bore a HZNBRG vanity plate with a question mark decal beside it on the bumper. That’s what she liked.

  “Mr. Heisenberg needed something to lighten him up. Takes himself too seriously sometimes,” I explained, patting the dash.

  I whipped down the hill to the back entrance of the campus, sending eddies of fallen leaves swirling to the side of the road. When I turned, Kinzie twisted in her seat, looking back toward where the village of Newberry lay a few miles away. “We’re not going to the Pizza Place?” she asked. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught her scowl.

  “Got a better place,” I answered. “An Italian place in Bloomfield. PP’s is always packed. Too noisy to get anything done there.”

  “Packed. I hadn’t thought about that,” she said, shifting in the seat like it was prickling her.

  “You okay?”

  “Sure. Yeah,” she said trying to toss it off, but her voice was strained. “This other place – it won’t be as bad?”

  “Bad?” I questioned. But she didn’t answer. I glanced over and saw she was staring fixedly out the windshield, her cheeks red like she was embarrassed. “This place will be good,” I answered. “Big private tables where we can spread out to work. I went there once when my parents were in town.”

  “Good.” Her shoulders relaxed, but her face didn’t. “Uh … it doesn’t cost much, does it?” she asked almost apologetically.

  Her question caught me by surprise, because I had no idea. Couldn’t be much – it’s not like it was a five-star restaurant. But what did that mean? Five bucks? Twenty bucks? I’d never paid attention. And she couldn’t be worried about a lousy ten bucks or so, could she? I had no idea on that either.

  “Not much more than getting pizza,” I assured her, deciding to pick up the tab. It only seemed right since I picked the place. But when I told her so, it backfired.

  “No,” she ordered. “We’re here to work. I’ll pay my own.”

  “But I always pay for other people.” I protested and got another firm “No,” in response. This girl confused me. A moment ago she was huddled in the seat like a scared puppy, but now the fierce independence I’d see in her at times had returned with a vengeance. Was it just some act she put on? Maybe so, but which one? A lot of girls acted weak and scared because they thought guys liked it. Maybe Brolie was into that game. My grip tightened on the wheel as I thought about the asshole and what I’d seen last night. Should I tell her?

  As I considered it, Kinzie finally settled back into Mr. Heisenberg’s leather seat, and began to talk casually, first about the cornfields we were passing, and how the combination of rainfall and air temperature at night affected the maturation rate, then onto the videogames she played with her friends in high school. I marveled at the random thoughts spilling from her brain. She wasn’t like any girl I knew – or any guy for that matter. She was … interesting, if a bit odd. And I wasn’t going to break her flow with news of her boyfriend cheating on her. It wasn’t any of my business anyway.

  When we reached Bloomfield, I parked Mr. Heisenberg beneath a green and red lettered sign perched atop a rusty, white post. “Gianni’s Italian Villa” it read. We crossed the pot-holed parking lot and stepped from the bright evening into a room so dimly-lit I had to squint to see anything. U-shaped booths at irregular angles were sprinkled around the room, making each white-clothed table a private haven, oozing with cheesy romance. I’d forgotten about this place’s reputation on campus – as a date place. God, I hoped Kinzie didn’t get the wrong idea. Maybe she and Brolie had some sort of open relationship, but I didn’t date girls in my classes. Still, there was no way she would know that. I glanced down at the girl in the oversized black t-shirt and cargo pants. She couldn’t think I was interested in her, could she? I better make sure it was clear.

  “They don’t mind if you stay awhile, so it sounded like a good place for us to work,” I explained too fast to sound casual.

  She shot me a skeptical glance as the dumpy, white-haired proprietor – maybe Gianni himself – toddled up. He kept smiling and nodding as he led us to a booth. When he was gone, I watched Kinzie study the plastic-covered menu, her finger running down the prices of the basic Italian fare. Eight to twelve dollars. Was that a lot? From the way she was studying the menu, I’d say I needed to buy dinner. I chose this place. But – I glanced around at the décor again – how could I do that without making it look like a date? Or maybe I should just suck it up and let her think that it was. That would probably be the thrill of her lifetime – a date with Greg Langston. But the thought of it knotted my stomach. It was wrong. Besides, she was seeing Brolie, and I didn’t go after other guy’s girls. And that would definitely look like I was. Damn, why was this getting so complicated? We’d come here to study!

  Kinzie had put down her menu and was watching me. “I want to make sure you understand something,” she stated seriously. Her dark eyes pierced through me, and all I could do is nod. “This isn’t a date.”

  My heart jolted in a weird bastardization of relief and humiliation, but then I grew uncertain whether she had no romantic interest, which was fine, or actually disliked me as a general principle. Both seemed likely, especially after the way I’d dumped her roommate last night.

  “Okay,” I agreed slowly. “Is this because Sasha and I broke up?” As Kinzie nodded, I was overwhelmed with the urge to grovel for being an ass. To assure Kinzie that I wasn’t the kind of guy who ditched his girlfriend with a text. Except … I was that ass. And I had proven it.

  Her eyes bored into me a moment longer before they dropped to the table. “The thing is, Sasha said that you might … That you … I mean I don’t really believe …” she stammered, uncertain of herself again. Her cheeks were bright pink, and I couldn’t imagine why, since I was the one that had been a jerk. Her mouth clamped shut for a moment, as she eyed me again, then announced in a determined manner. “We’re just friends – you and me. Nothing else.”

  I almost laughed in relief. She had been thinking this might be a date, and had the guts to set the record straight. “Friends,” I agreed with
a grin. She shyly smiled back while I pulled my laptop out of my backpack, moving the candle aside to place it on the table. We were here to work.

  The server, a lanky kid, came by to take our order. Cheese ravioli with red sauce for her, and fettuccine for me. When he left, Kinzie shot me a serious look, although her dark eyes were laughing.

  “What’s funny?” I asked.

  She smoothed the table cloth in front of her with her hands before speaking. “I just realized what I said might have sounded wrong. I don’t want to bruise your ego, Greg, so you should know that the fact that you are extremely good looking isn’t lost on me. If that was all it took for me to be interested in you, we might have a problem.”

  This time, the laugh popped out of my mouth. Kinzie was worried about my self-esteem? Sweet, but misplaced. “Just friends,” I confirmed, then chuckled as the thought sunk in. “I haven’t had a friend who was a girl since around third grade.”

  “Well, if you can’t handle a friend with boobs – or booblets in my case …”

  A laugh sputtered out of me again, even though I tried to stop it. “Booblets?” I looked at her tits to size them up – nearly impossible through the boys t-shirt, and the white lettering didn’t help.

  “See? They’re so small you didn’t even notice.”

  “How could I under that …” I jokingly reached over and gathered a handful of her oversized t-shirt. But I quickly let go and sat back in the booth. “My god, you’re tiny!” I gasped, trying to erase from my mind what I’d just seen. Kinzie wasn’t flat-chested or fat or anything like the shapeless form her clothes implied. Not at all. Damn. My heart hammered as I reminded myself that this was Kinzie – just a friend. I’d just said that.

  “Booblets,” she pronounced, snapping me back to the friendly banter.

  “Not those,” I said swallowing hard to put a casual smile on my face. “Your frame.”

  “Yeah. I’m secretly one of those willowy elf-maidens, except short,” she offered wryly.

  I forced myself to look away, studying a travel poster that hung on the wall to reign in the primal part of my brain, but my imagination was going wild. What the hell? This wasn’t Jenna. And Kinzie had no interest in being my plaything. Although after what I’d just seen, I could … Stop. This was Kinzie. No interest. We’d just said that.

  “What’s your favorite place you’ve been to?” I asked to change the subject.

  She followed my eyes to the poster of the pastel villas stacked up the side of the Amalfi coast. “I haven’t really been anywhere,” she said like it was a confession. “Florida, once. About eight years ago. Have you been there?” she asked, nodding toward the poster.

  “Amalfi? A few years ago.”

  “It looks pretty. Was it nice?”

  I stared at the poster a moment longer and scowled. “I guess. I don’t really remember much about it.” It was true of most of the places I’d been. Different locations, but all just more of the same. Bland. Somehow, that didn’t seem right. I opened an app on my computer and focused on the list of possible articles and books displayed on my laptop. We were here to work. Nothing else.

  “This is your last chance to get out of doing this paper together,” Kinzie announced as I started through the list. She sounded hopeful that I’d take her up on the escape. Maybe that was the reason for the wavering stubborn attitude; she really didn’t like me, and hoped I’d go away of my own accord. Too bad for her, I wanted to do this project. But at least I could follow her lead and clear the air.

  “Why don’t you want to work with me?” I asked directly. She bit her lip for a moment, working out what to say. “You don’t have to spare my feelings,” I told her. “I can take it.”

  She grinned at that. “It’s easier to work by myself.”

  “Of course it is,” I agreed, “But you weren’t working with me. I’ll pull my weight. Besides, we have to do it with partners. Would you rather work with one of the other geniuses in the class? Maybe one of the bleach-brained bimbos?”

  Her eyes gleamed ferociously as she leaned forward. “Look, how about this: I’ll do the work, and you can be my sounding board – especially on the physics stuff – if you really are a physics major. Okay?”

  I folded my arms. “Nice try.”

  She sat back like I’d blasted her in the chest with a bazooka. “What do you mean? You’re supposed to jump at the chance to get out of work.”

  I leaned forward, and said evenly, “I like the topic. And what do you mean, if I’m a physics major?”

  “You don’t seem like the type,” she decreed.

  “You mean I don’t look like the type,” I corrected. “Looks can be deceiving. I mean, look at you and your booblets.”

  She’d just taken a sip of her soda and spewed it across the table, then wiped her mouth laughing. “Okay Langston, you win.” She turned my laptop toward her to divvy up the work between us. Our entrees had arrived by the time I figured out that she hadn’t given up – just switched tactics.

  “Give me that one,” I protested after swallowing a mouthful of fettuccine.

  “No, I can do it.”

  “So can I. You don’t think I’m smart enough,” I observed, finding this turn of the tables amusing. I’d done it myself last year on an economics project with Boomer – keeping all the tough work to make sure it got done right. But Boomer hadn’t minded. Hadn’t even noticed.

  “Even if you are, how do I know you’ll do a good enough job?” she challenged bluntly.

  I grinned. “You’re going to have to trust me, Czarina.”

  She crossed her arms in front of her. “I don’t trust anyone.” Her eyes darkened even more, and she added, “No one.”

  Wow. This girl had some issues but I wasn’t here to solve her problems, just to avoid having to work with some worthless idiot. I glanced at her dark eyes. “Eat,” I directed her, and pulled the laptop back to face me. “I’m not going to let you take all the hard parts. Then I’d have to trust you.”

  “You don’t think I can do it?” she asked incredulously.

  I smiled, but didn’t answer. Kinzie obviously wasn’t used to competing on brain power. Maybe she’d win against most people, but I wasn’t most people. She chewed her ravioli, suspiciously watching my hands fly over the keyboard, until I turned the laptop back to show her.

  “I’ve assigned each article a number. We’ll let Matlab’s random number generator decide. I’ll do the first half it comes up with and you do the second.”

  I could see her bristling at the thought of not being in control, but this way, neither of us were. We both had to compromise. I was satisfied with my solution, although her eyes were searching for a way out. She scowled when she couldn’t find one.

  “Okay, but if I become a complete bitch, it’s because you’ve blown it,” she agreed. Her dark eyes flashed with the reflection of the guttering candle flame.

  “I’ve been warned.”

  After dividing the articles, we worked out how to structure the paper. This girl knew a lot about philosophy, but I kept pace with her easily – except for a couple times. Once I didn’t follow her, but the other time, my attention had drifted back down to what was hiding under her bulky t-shirt. Why did she hide the way she looked? Any other girl would flaunt that body at me, and I’d probably take them up on the offer.

  “You like the shirt?” she asked, thankfully mistaking what I’d been staring at. I shifted my attention to the white lettering on her t-shirt that said simply: I see dumb people.

  “It’s funny,” I told her, pausing before deciding to finish my thought. “But I think you mean it. You use intellect to keep yourself apart from everyone else.”

  “You don’t really know me, remember?”

  “I’m getting to know you better. The fact that you are smart doesn’t mean you have to be lonely.”

  She sat back in the booth, crossing her arms again in protest. “It’s easier this way.” Her eyes dared me to disagree, but after a moment, t
hey faltered. “Can I ask you a question?” she said more tentatively.

  “Sure,” I shrugged.

  “The girls at the dorm, they don’t like me,” she confessed softly. “I don’t want to be so different, but … If you could make people be nice to you, would you do it?” she asked, her dark eyes rising back to mine.

  My heart stuttered quickly at the question I’d asked a hundred times. But then I realized, she couldn’t know that. No one here knew. “Make them how?” I asked to be certain of her question.

  She shifted uncomfortably. “I’m not sure. Let’s say people were making fun of …” She waved her hand and glanced around in search of an example. “Of your clothes maybe, and you could snap your fingers and their tongues wouldn’t work. Would you do it?”

  I tipped my head at the strange hypothetical. Maybe this wasn’t about money or status. I chewed my fettuccine while I thought. “Would I?” I asked rhetorically after a moment. “I probably would, but I don’t think I would feel any better than if I hadn’t.”

  “Why?” Her dark eyes were piercing me again, searching for the justification of my answer.

  “I’d know they would be teasing me if they could. So if that was making me feel bad, then it still would. Keeping them quiet doesn’t change their thoughts or intentions.”

  She nodded silently. I was about to ask why she wanted to know, when her dark eyes raised once again. “Do you think there’s something wrong with me?”

  “What? Wrong with you? Like what?”

  She closed her eyes. “I have no real friends. I never have,” she stated.

  “You have me.”

  She laughed at that. “You don’t know even know me. And, I mean, look at me. I can read …” She hesitated, like she was at a loss for what to say before starting over. “I’m a freshman in college. I don’t giggle and run around the dorm borrowing clothes or doing my hair,” she said as her hand flipped the ends of her thick dark strands. “No one has ever asked me out, and I’m not sure I would have gone if they did.”

  “I thought you were seeing Brolie,” I asked, hoping it wasn’t true – especially if she’d never been out with a guy before. Brolie’s slime was the wrong place for a girl like Kinzie to test those waters.