9. Kelsey
Chapter nine
Kelsey
At six, I showed up with my books under my arm, at Quentin’s door. We exchanged polite greetings before he led me to the table. He was friendly but seemed rather stiff. Clearly, we both had our guard up, wary of a misstep that would set the other one off again.
Quentin gestured toward a bottle of wine and two glasses on the table. “Do you want something to drink?”
I laughed. “Alcohol? Will that improve my study results?”
“Depends on how much you are planning to drink,” Quentin said. “But we are both adults. I think we can hold our liquor well enough to not get blackout drunk from a glass of wine.”
“Oh, I can hold my liquor, alright. Fill me up.”
I sat down and waited for him to fill my glass. “So, how are we going to do this?”
“Here is the plan,” he said as he handed me my glass. “We’ll go through the material together. I will point out the high-yield information. You take notes, and then you repeat it back to me.”
“Repeat it back to you?”
“Yes, in your own words. ”
I crossed my arms in front of my chest and furrowed my brows. “You’re not going to make fun of me, right?”
“No,” he said, sounding a little offended. “It’s the best way to retain information. Trust me.”
I took a big gulp of wine and picked a book off the pile. “Okay, let’s give it a go.”
Quentin took a sip of wine himself. I noticed his hands were a little shaky, but as soon as he flipped open that book and started reading it out loud to me, he almost morphed into another person: Mr. Avery, experienced teacher.
It quickly became obvious that Quentin did this for a living. He was very good at explaining things in a way I understood. I scribbled everything down on a notepad then tried to make heads or tails of it on my own. It felt awkward at first, a lot like those presentations I used to hate in high school, but Quentin kept his word. He did not make fun of me. Occasionally, he corrected me or helped me out when I lost the plot, but he remained respectful.
By the time I finished my first glass of wine, I was completely at ease.
“Do you want more wine?” Quentin asked.
“Yes, definitely. That is good stuff.”
“Thank you,” he said. “It was the most expensive bottle at the gas station.”
I laughed. “I feel spoiled.”
He handed me the refilled glass. “I hope so. I’m doing my best.”
“You’re succeeding,” I said, “No, really. You are actually really good at this. I bet your students love you.”
He smiled a half smile. “They seem to like me once they get used to…” He gestured toward his face. “This.”
Only now that he had mentioned it did I realize that I, too, had gotten used to his scar. Maybe it was the dim, warm light from the lamp hanging over his dining table, but I hadn’t even noticed his scars once since I entered his apartment.
I contemplated telling him just that, but I was unsure if he would take it the right way. Maybe it would be better not to draw any further attention to his scars. I might not be a psychologist, but even I could tell he was insecure about them despite his best attempts at hiding that. And the fact that I had told him he had a messed-up face probably didn’t help either. I felt really ashamed about that tantrum, so I changed the subject fast.
“Well, this studying session is going a lot better than my last actual class,” I said.
“You did not enjoy school?”
“Does anyone?”
“I did.” He took a sip from his glass. “Why didn’t you?”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure. I guess I just had other things on my mind, and school quickly became an unwelcome distraction.”
“Other things?”
“Boys, mainly.”
He laughed. “Well, it wasn’t like I was immune to girls, either. Few high school–aged boys are.”
“But you still enjoyed school? The lectures and learning and all those things?”
He went silent for a moment. The playfulness quickly left his face. “It became my sanctuary. My father became sick with stomach cancer early in my freshman year, and he passed away when I was a sophomore. Throwing myself into my studies was a distraction from my own grief and from my mother’s.”
I didn’t know what to say. “That must have been terrible for you” was the only thing I could come up with. I reached across the table and touched his hand. He looked down at my hand covering his own, a strange expression on his face.
He cleared his throat. “We should tackle the next chapter.”
Only then did I realize I’d been touching him for way too long and withdrew my hand, putting it in my lap under the table, like I had just been caught stealing from the cookie jar. Was that too much? Did I mess up again? But as soon as he turned the page, Quentin was back to his relaxed self, slipping seamlessly back into his teacher role.
Patrick and Leah were already standing outside the diner, waiting for me.
“Good night, Elijah. Thank you for closing up!” I yelled over my shoulder.
As usual, Elijah would help his father close up the diner for the day. But if he was busy, one of us—Leah, Patrick, or I—would help Izzy get the diner cleaned up and ready for the next day.
“Yes, thank you, Elijah,” Leah said. “I don’t know what we would do without you.”
Elijah grinned. “You’ll have to figure it out soon enough. I’ve been accepted to Stenton State University. I’ll be heading off to college this fall.”
“That’s fantastic,” Patrick said.
“Yes, well done,” Leah said. “SSU is a great school.”
I allowed my mind to wander for a second. College . Even when things were still going well with Ryan, I had always regretted never going to college. Could I do it? If I managed to pass my GED exam, I could give it a try. Just days ago, I would never have considered it, but since Quentin told me I wasn’t a completely lost cause, that idea had wriggled its way back into my mind. We’d met three times since I stormed out of his apartment, and I was feeling like we were making some progress, but for now, college was just a faraway dream. I had to pass that exam first, and with the way things were going, that would be tough enough.
“Kel, are you coming?” Patrick pulled me away from my fantasies of higher education. “I have a phone date with my boyfriend at eight.”
“Yeah, I’m coming.”
The house of Patrick’s parents, where he’d been living since he dropped out of college to apply to art school instead, was in the same direction as the Sunset Apartments, so we would often walk home together.
Leah’s car was at the mechanic’s to repair the broken air conditioning, so she was joining us too.
Most of the shops had already closed for the day, and the streets were mostly empty. The only sound was the chirping of birds, the rustling of leaves in the cool breeze, and our chatter.
Patrick was telling us about the club in Stenton he’d been to last weekend, when my phone made a noise. Then it made a whole lot more noise. Someone was blowing up my phone with texts.
“Sounds like someone wants to talk to you urgently,” Leah said.
“Who is it?” Patrick asked. “A boyfriend?”
I rolled my eyes because I’d already recognized the ringtone. “It’s my mother.”
Patrick nudged my side. “Don’t you want to look?”
“Not really,” I said, but I unlocked my phone anyway.
My mother had sent me at least a dozen pictures, screenshots taken from Ryan’s ConnectBook page. It showed him and his new girlfriend being lovey-dovey.
Patrick peeked over my shoulder. “Oh, who’s that hunk?”
I ground my teeth. “My ex.”
Leah took a look now too. “I assume that blonde girl isn’t his sister. ”
“Nope,” I said. “That’s his new girlfriend.”
“Ouch.” Patrick wrapped his arm around me. “That hurts.”
I scoffed. “No, it’s fine. She can have that piece of shit.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Piece of shit, huh?”
“I moved seven hundred miles to get away from him. That should tell you everything you need to know about him.”
“What a shame. Because that piece of shit is a real stunner. That hair, those piercing blue eyes, that jawline.”
Leah hit Patrick on the back of the head. “We get it. He’s attractive. Now, cut it out.”
“You know what you need, Kel?” Patrick asked with a grin. “Good old revenge dating. Show that prick you can do better. I can hook you up. There’s this guy on my boyfriend’s football team. He’s super cute and single. And as far as I can tell, he’s not a piece of shit.”
“No, not a chance,” I said. “I’ve had enough of men. I’m going to stay single for a long, long, long while.”
As always, Leah was the mature one. “What you really need is a divorce. Have you found a lawyer yet?”
Divorce . Wow, that word sounded bad. Leah was right. I needed to end this marriage officially, but I already knew Ryan would try to make the whole process hell for me, and I had no idea where to find a lawyer good enough to fend him off—or how to pay that lawyer.
“Not yet,” I simply said. “But I’m already looking into it.” That wasn’t true, but I didn’t feel like discussing that right now. I would with Leah in a quiet moment, maybe, but not in front of Patrick. Not that I disliked Patrick—quite the opposite, actually. He was charming and funny and fun to be around, but he wasn’t the type of friend I wanted to explain the depth of my heartbreak to.
We reached the point of the walk where we would part ways .
“I’m going to this new club in Stenton—Tomcat, it’s called—this weekend. Do you girls want to come? There’s going to be a few straight guys too.”
Leah shook her head. “Not my type of venue. You know that, Patrick.”
“You need to loosen up, Leah,” Patrick said. “Kelsey, okay, she has an excuse for her abstinence, but as far as I know, you are not going through a messy divorce. So why don’t you have a boyfriend?”
Leah cocked her head. “Patrick, if you keep talking, I might have to hit you again.”
He shrugged and grinned. “I’ve seen you knock out a guy twice my size. Not taking any chances here. Kel, how about you? Might do you some good to get out of that stuffy apartment for a while.”
“I can’t. I already have a date.”
Patrick raised his eyebrows. “A date? Go on, tell me more.”
“Not that kind of date,” I said. “It’s a study date. With my tutor.”
He laughed. “A study date? What, are you a freshman or what?”
I blushed. “A bit like that, yes.”
Leah patted me on the shoulder. “Kelsey is going to get her GED.”
“That’s great, Kel!” Patrick said. “No, really, good for you. Go get that higher education.”
“Who’s your tutor?” Leah asked.
“Oh, nobody.” I tried to wave it off. “Just Quentin.”
Leah raised her eyebrows. “Quentin? Quentin Avery? Our neighbor?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“How did you get him to agree to that?” she asked. “That man is famously reclusive. It took me two years to get more than hello and goodbye out of him.”
“It was your grandmother's idea,” I explained. “She kinda set us up.”
“Oh oh, Kelsey. You are in trouble.”
“What? No. It’s fine. Well, actually, we had a bit of a rough start, but it’s fine now.”
“No, you don’t understand,” Leah said. “She’s matchmaking! She’s done it before. And she takes it seriously. Very seriously. She does not rest until she gets her happy ending.”
I laughed out loud. “Matchmaking? Quentin and me? Leah, come on.”
Leah laughed too. “Sorry, Kel. You know my granny. She’s one determined woman. She’ll find a way to make it happen. She always does. You’d better marry him right now and spare yourself all the trouble.”
“Can’t. I’m not divorced yet.”