Chapter 10 Balancing Act #3
Sophia put her phone away before she could reread everything three times.
At Bella Luna that evening, the first thing Gia said was, “You have post-kiss energy.”
Sophia stopped in the kitchen doorway. “What?”
Vinny, at the prep table, dropped a spoon.
Antonia looked up. “Gia.”
“What? It’s real.”
Victoria came in behind Sophia. “I told you not to say that.”
“You said not to say glow.”
“It counted.”
Sophia covered her face. “Please stop.”
Vinny bent to pick up the spoon, ears red.
“I wasn’t involved in this,” he said.
Gia pointed at him. “You caused it.”
“Not during rush,” Antonia said.
Everyone went silent.
Then Gia slowly smiled. “Chef made a joke.”
“I didn’t,” Antonia said.
“You did.”
“I made an instruction.”
Gia pointed at her. “With joke bones.”
Sophia laughed before she could stop herself. Vinny looked at her, and the whole kitchen seemed to shrink to that one glance. Then Antonia cleared her throat. Vinny looked back at his station. Sophia looked at the floor.
Victoria muttered, “Useful rule.”
Service that night went well, mostly.
Vinny behaved. Sophia behaved. Gia didn’t, but nobody had expected that. The no-flirting-during-rush rule held except for one moment when Sophia asked for extra bread for table eight and Vinny said, “Always,” in a voice that made her stomach flip.
Antonia said his name.
He said, “Bread-related.”
Antonia said, “Thin ice.”
He shut up. Sophia carried the bread into the dining room smiling so hard table eight smiled back for no reason. After close, she changed out of her apron and sat at the bar with her planner. Vinny came out from the kitchen with a low paper bag. He stopped several feet away.
“Library?” he asked.
Sophia looked at the bag. Then at him.
“You really made dinner?”
“Turkey and provolone on focaccia. Apple slices. No soup. Soup is bad library food.”
She smiled. “That is true.”
“And a lemon cookie.”
“Just one?”
He looked pained. “I’m trying.”
Sophia laughed. He held out the bag. She took it. Their fingers brushed. Barely. It was nothing. It was absolutely not nothing. Both of them went still.
Victoria, from the host stand, said, “I can see you.”
Vinny stepped back. Sophia looked down, face hot.
“Sorry,” he said.
“For touching my finger?”
“For making it weird.”
Sophia looked up.
“It was a finger,” she said.
His mouth curved. “Right.”
“And it wasn’t weird.”
“All right.”
“It was…” She stopped.
No. Not saying nice. Too much. Vinny waited.
Sophia took a breath. “It was fine.”
His smile warmed. Fine didn’t sound like enough. But he seemed to understand what kind of fine she meant.
“Text me when you get to the library?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“And when you get home?”
“Vinny.”
He froze. Sophia realized her tone had gone sharper than she meant. Victoria went still behind the host stand.
Vinny’s expression changed fast. “Sorry. You don’t have to. I just—”
“I know.” Sophia held the paper bag against her chest. “I know you’re trying to be careful.”
“I am.”
“I can get myself to the library and home.”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “You can.”
The answer came quick. Not defensive. Correcting. The correction gave her something to hold on to.
Sophia softened. “I’ll text because I want to. Not because you assigned it.”
His shoulders lowered.
“All right,” he said.
Victoria looked down at the reservation book like she had decided not to interfere. Barely.
Vinny shifted his weight. “Thank you for saying it.”
Sophia blinked. “Saying what?”
“That I made it feel like an assignment.”
“Oh.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
“I know.”
He looked at the bag in her arms. “School first?”
Sophia smiled.
“School first.”
He smiled back. “Decent.”
She left for the library with dinner in her bag, her planner under one arm, and her heart doing that stupid warm thing again.
At the library, she found a table near the windows and unpacked the sandwich.
There was a note folded beside the lemon cookie.
Study. Eat. Ignore me until you’re done.
—V Sophia laughed softly. Then she did exactly that, mostly.
She studied for ninety minutes. Real studying.
No phone except to text Victoria and Constance that she had reached the library.
No rereading Vinny’s messages. No touching her lips and acting ridiculous in public.
At the end of the ninety minutes, she packed her books, ate the lemon cookie, and texted Vinny.
Sophia: Studied. Ate. Ignored you.
His answer came back:
Vinny: Proud and wounded.
Sophia: You told me to.
Vinny: I know. Still wounded.
She smiled. Then another message came.
Vinny: Nice work, teach.
Sophia looked at the words for a long second.
Nice work. Not because she had made time for him.
Because she had made time for herself. Her phone buzzed again before she could answer.
Email notification. Class portal. Her quiz grade had posted.
Sophia’s stomach dipped. Too fast. She opened it.
76%. Not failing or terrible. But not her.
Sophia stared at the number. Seventy-six.
A C. On a quiz, not an exam. Modest percentage.
Fixable, still. Her throat tightened. She had studied.
Not enough. She had read. Not well enough.
She thought of the picnic. The walk. The kiss.
Texting. Soup. Smiling at her phone instead of reviewing question types.
All of it crowded together until the bright parts felt guilty. Her phone buzzed.
Vinny: You all right?
Sophia stared at the message. She hadn’t even answered him. He knew anyway. That made her want to cry, which annoyed her.
Sophia: Quiz grade posted.
Vinny: Bad?
She swallowed.
Sophia: 76.
The typing dots appeared. Stopped. Appeared again.
Vinny: That feels bad to you.
Not, that’s not bad. Not, don’t worry. Not, it’s just a quiz. That feels bad to you. Sophia blinked hard.
Sophia: Yes.
Vinny: I’m sorry.
She put the phone down and pressed both hands to her face. A minute later, another text came.
Vinny: Do you want me to leave you alone tonight so you can make a plan?
Sophia laughed once, but it hurt. He was trying. He was doing everything right. And still, the number sat there. Seventy-six.
She typed:
Sophia: Maybe.
Then:
Sophia: I’m not mad at you.
His answer came back.
Vinny: I know. Still sorry it feels bad.
Sophia sat in the calm library, looking at the grade, the text, and the empty lemon-cookie wrapper.
This was the part she had been afraid of, not Vinny being careless.
Vinny being careful. Not him pulling her away.
Her wanting to go. It was harder to blame.
She closed the class portal and opened her planner.
Quiz corrections due Friday. Reading chapter nine.
Work Wednesday and Thursday. Library study block.
She wrote slowly. Then added, in smaller letters:
Vinny can’t take over the whole day.
She stared at the line. It sounded harsher than she meant. So she crossed out can’t take over and wrote:
Vinny can’t fill the whole day.
Better. Maybe. Her phone lit again.
Vinny: I’m here if you want. Not in your way if you don’t.
Sophia held the phone in both hands. She wanted to text him. She wanted to tell him she was scared. She wanted him to say the right thing again. That was the problem. She took a breath and typed:
Sophia: I need to study tonight. I’ll text you tomorrow?
His reply came back after a few seconds.
Vinny: Tomorrow is better.
Then:
Vinny: Proud of you for saying what you need.
Sophia’s eyes burned. She set the phone facedown and opened chapter nine.
This time, when her mind wandered to Vinny, she pulled it back.
She highlighted the first paragraph, then the second.
Outside the library windows, the city moved in streaks of headlights and wet pavement.
Inside, Sophia read until the words finally stayed.