Chapter 32
MOLLY
Enzo offered to clear up after breakfast, but I refused.
And then he refused to back down. So in the end we both ended up washing our own dishes. I found it hilarious. I think he did, too, only, he put on that serious face of his. But I know that underneath that seriousness is a softer man.
He said he had a few business matters to take care of. So much for not wanting to work today. We worked quietly for a few hours. He sat at the kitchen table, while I grabbed my laptop and sat on the couch, checking a few things.
There are a few emails from Miss T and some school matters I need to catch up on before we go back.
There’s also an email from Penelope. She hopes I made it back to Chicago safely after everything that happened in New York.
She says she hopes seeing the depot helped me understand that I don’t need to be an architect or developer to have something valuable to contribute.
My fingers hover over the keyboard. I want to type out a reply so that I don’t have this hanging over my head, but it makes me feel like I’m running away.
Maybe I am.
From the project. From Enzo. From the one thing that would give me a reason to keep seeing him. It’s going to be difficult telling him, but it can wait. He seems pleased that we’ll be working on this together, and I don’t have the heart to tell him I won’t be.
But who do I put forward in my place?
Not Kiki.
She doesn’t have the best interests of the school at heart, and I doubt she’d be interested. She also wouldn’t have a vision for how it could help the school. She only has a vision for leaving Oakleigh, and becoming an influencer.
My hopes instantly lift because Mrs. Chen would be a great candidate.
She has more years of teaching and she’d be the best candidate for this.
I’ll tell Penelope that there are teachers with more experience than me.
Teachers who would be better placed on the project.
And I’ll tell her why Mrs. Chen would be ideal.
I start typing out my email, determined to get this over and done with, when I look up. Enzo leans against the kitchen doorframe watching me.
My stomach gives an uncomfortable little twist.
I slam my laptop shut, like I have something to hide. I’ll finish that email later.
“Finished for the day?” he asks.
“Yes. You?”
“I’m not turning my laptop on for the rest of the day.”
I raise my eyebrow. “So, we’re going to be cooped up inside doing nothing?” I set my laptop to the side, because I suddenly have a plan. “Meet me at the kitchen table.”
He frowns.
“Trust me,” I insist.
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” He disappears into the kitchen. He doesn’t want to work, but he also doesn’t want to risk going outside. That leaves only one thing.
I bring out my Jenga and set it on the little kitchen table.
“Are we really doing this now?”
“Unless you have a better idea to pass the day.” I sit down and get out the wooden pieces. He sits back, trying to suppress the grin I know is struggling to form on his lips. He eyes the Jenga set with suspicion.
“This is going to be interesting.”
I nod in agreement. “Playing with someone, yes.”
He chuckles.
I stack the wooden blocks into a tower between us, and we start taking turns. I go first, pulling out one of the more difficult pieces without giving it much thought. The tower wobbles. Enzo looks horrified.
“What?”
He stares at the tower. “Nothing.”
He approaches this so differently to how I do. I don’t take as long as he does. I look at something, and pull out a piece on blind faith. It usually works.
Enzo stares at it for the longest time, moving his head and examining the block from different angles. He pulls out a piece slowly, and carefully. Sometimes his hand stills, with the piece half in and half out.
Me? I yank it out in one go.
His hand stills again on another piece. I blow out an irritated, impatient breath. This is going to be a long game. “You're taking forever.”
He puts a finger to his lips. Eyes fixed on the block, his expression one of pure concentration. As if he's defusing a bomb instead of playing Jenga. “I’m assessing structural risk.”
“It’s a game!”
“It’s a badly engineered building.”
Ah. This is how he assesses everything. “You’re supposed to enjoy the danger.”
He pulls the piece out, pauses, then holds the piece up triumphantly when the block doesn't collapse.
He looks at me. “That sentence explains a great deal about you.”
I nod and lean forward. “You play it safe. You always choose the block you know will move.”
He cocks his head like he doesn't understand. “That is the objective.”
“I don’t agree. The objective is to find out whether the impossible one might move.”
He blinks. “You're want to collapse the tower. And then what?”
“We build another.”
“Then what was the point of playing?” he asks.
“To have fun.” Are we playing the same game?
“Elaborate.”
“Collapse isn't the end of anything. It just means you start over.”
He sits back. “But you've failed at playing.”
“It depends on why you were playing.”
He narrows his eyes, and goes quiet.
Suddenly, I'm not sure we're talking about Jenga anymore.