Chapter 16
Sixteen
Ally sat alone at Chip’s kitchen table, save for his three friends who sat across from her, all avoiding her gaze and fidgeting awkwardly with their unoccupied hands. Meanwhile, Chip did as she’d already done and finished his shower, washing away all traces of river water and the earlier lovemaking they’d not-so-secretly engaged in.
She stared down at the table’s light timber for what felt like the millionth time, still not sure what to do here.
Did she get up and offer them a drink?
But this wasn’t even her house.
Was digging through Chip’s fridge even okay?
Where did he even keep his glasses?
The fact she didn’t know, plus her frozen state, only drove home just how much she did not belong here.
Maybe I could escape out a back window.
Crapola, his friend’s car blocked hers in the drive, so even an unannounced escape was out of the question. And to make matters worse, there’d been talk of everyone, including her, heading to Maynard’s for the night.
She ran her right foot up the inside of her opposite ankle, pushing at the hem of her ill-fitted pants since she’d been forced to wear some spare clothes Sarah had left behind in the guest room.
Of course, Sarah was a few inches taller, and so Ally’s current turquoise sweatpants were way too long, the borrowed peach t-shirt sagging a little low at the neckline too. Still, better than the t-shirt Chip had tossed her in his room.
“Sorry ‘bout this.” Chip’s friend, Jamie—who unexpectedly turned out to be a Black woman with a short and skinny build, wearing a dark t-shirt with Japanese cartoon ninja bunnies printed on the front—cringed. “We planned on arriving tomorrow, but bad weather meant we had to cancel one of our stops. So we figured there’d be no harm driving straight here. We didn’t expect…”
Ally closed her eyes against Jamie’s trailing words. It was pretty damn clear what his friends had interrupted, and now Ally’s cheeks burned, the skin over her neck taking on a hot prickle, her hair still wet from her shower and her makeup long gone.
Jeez Louise, I’m meeting his friends in the most embarrassing way possible.
“It’s fine.” She opened her eyes and plastered on what she hoped looked like an unbothered smile. “Chip says you’re on a road trip and planned on staying a couple of nights to get a taste of where he grew up.”
“Yep.” Greg squinted his already small blue eyes at her, more a probing look than anything hostile, his focused look bringing attention to the thin and prominent bridge of his nose. “The whole trip ends in San Fran.”
“San Francisco?” Ally tucked wet hair behind her ear, happy that at least some semblance of a conversation unfolded.
“Yep.” But before she could ask what was in San Francisco, Greg jumped in with, “So, how do you know Chip, anyway?”
“Chip and I have been friends since we were little.” Her skin burned anew, and she eyed Matt—with his somewhat squat build and light brown hair—the one friend yet to speak, although his overly still stare said what everyone here probably thought.
She and Chip were clearly something other than friends.
“Oh yeah…” Jamie’s voice pitched upward, and she tapped Greg’s hand with the back of hers. “Chip once told us about her. Remember that games night last year, playing Settlers of Catan? We all got drunk and started talking about our ‘one that got away.’”
“That’s right.” A wide and goofy grin took over Greg’s face, his pale blond fringe flopping over one brow. “Chip said this chick was the closest he got. And let’s not forget, I told you all it was a stupid conversation. We’re not even in our mid-twenties and don’t yet have enough data to collate a worthwhile answer. So, I’m still right, by the way.”
Matt burst into laughter. “No, dude. You’re the only one who lacks any data.”
Greg rolled his eyes, and Jamie just smiled, her dark brown stare on a glass saltshaker she’d swiped from the table’s center and now twisted between her palms.
Hoping to stop any future uncomfortable silences, Ally peered around the table and retrieved her unanswered question from earlier. “So, umm… why San Fran?”
Jamie leaned back into her lemon vinyl seat and paused her saltshaker tinkering. “We’re hoping to make it all the way to Silicon Valley to catch some tech conferences.”
Greg shrugged his shoulders, his oversized cobalt t-shirt hanging off his reedy frame. “Yep, Michelle Ibanez is doing a talk on the next generation Haskell type system, and it’s bound to be a life-altering experience.”
Ally’s face turned cold, and she looked to Jamie for support.
“No one in their right mind expects you to know who that is.” This time it was Jamie’s turn to roll her eyes. “I think if I hear him mention Michelle Ibanez one more time, I might whack him over the head with the lightsaber he insisted on taking on this trip. ”
Matt shook his head, seeming to settle in Ally’s presence, the upward tick of his lip directed at her. “As if my car didn’t have enough people and stuff crammed into it.”
“Hey guys, Chip really should be joining us on this trip, don’t you think?” Greg leaned over the table and eyed his friend. “What with his big news, imagine the networking he could do in The Valley.”
Ally peered amongst the friends again, confusion weighing heavy on her overly tight brow.
“Nah, dude, he’s too busy getting his shit together in time to put on a half-decent show.” Matt bumped Greg with his shoulder.
“Show?” Ally frowned, feeling even more the least intelligent person at this table. “Big news?”
“Oh, it’s more than big news.” Matt leaned toward her, his brown eyes wider and lighter than before. “It’s—”
“Hey, guys. No.” Jamie glared at Matt, then Greg. “Let Chip tell—”
“Chip got a call from Encode.” Greg’s smile grew, and the wild glint in his eyes made him appear almost manic. “He’s a finalist for this year’s Graduate Fund.”
Jamie growled and threw her head back as though she wanted to nothing to do with Matt and Greg and whatever ensued next.
“Oh… okay.” Ally’s voice creaked while she searched for more words, her attention bouncing between the three friends. Chip’s friends. Who knew more about his news and unintentionally made her feel about as bright as a beaten-up lump of coal. The more they spoke, the less she understood.
Matt tilted his head at Greg. “This guy works at Encode so got the jump on this year’s finalists via the company newsletter. Chip’s idea would have to be out of this world to make it this far.”
“What’s Encode?” She turned to Greg. “What’s a Graduate grant?”
“Encode is one of the biggest tech companies our side of the country, and each year, they offer a grant for new graduates to have one of their ideas made into an Encode product.” The wide excitement in Greg’s eyes made Ally’s tummy churn and a jittery pain grow in her chest. “Imagine that, fresh outta college and already in charge of a project you created. I’ve seen glimpses of Stonewall. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t jealous I didn’t come up with those goods.”
Jamie toyed with the saltshaker again, giving the impression she tended to fidget even without Ally’s earlier clumsy introduction. “What did he end up doing with the buffer overflow problem?”
Though Jamie’s attention stuck on Greg, Matt was the one to jump in with an answer. “Oh, maybe he rewrote the memory allocation code! He could have pulled it out into a separate library and then refactored the rest of the code. Might even be able to open source it all later. It’s bound to be gold.”
“Not a bad idea.” Jamie nodded and pushed the saltshaker away as though she once again noticed her restless habit. “Although, I would have just rewritten that part in a memory-safe language. Instead of using C, maybe use Java or even Erlang for bonus fun. Write it as a daemon and then call out to it via RPC. It’ll probably increase latency, but you won’t need to worry about overwriting anything you shouldn’t on the heap, so practically zero chance of segmentation fault.”
Matt stared off into space before offering a mumbled, “Yeah, maybe…”
After that, everyone just fell into a confusing silence, where Ally couldn’t tell if the conversation had truly died or if the others just puzzled through the current trouble-shooting related topic.
Meanwhile, she felt just about as clueless as ever, if cluelessness meant having a mind that worked double-time to understand, only to draw constant blanks…
Why hadn’t Chip told her about making the finals of this grant thing his friends fawned over?
Maybe I mean less to him than I assumed.
Then again, what ARE we to each other?
Barely even friends. So maybe I don’t have a right to assume anything.
“Anyway”—Greg’s voice pulled at her attention, his chin dipping and his stare drilling into her—“let’s just say, we’re making Chip pick up the tab tonight. The man is on the fast track to becoming a multi-millionaire.”
“What?” Her voice squeaked, and a sharp ache dug at the insides of her throat. Not because of the money, so much as the magnitude of how little she knew about a man she’d just shared a hugely intimate few hours with.
“That’s highly presumptuous.” Jamie reached out and patted the table between her and Ally, shaking her head as though she caught Ally’s surprise and mild heartbreak. “Forget about what Greg said. As you can see from his obsession with Ibanez, he likes to get ahead of himself.”
“Like hell, I do.” Greg snapped his posture into an impossibly straight position, his chin near disappearing into his neck. “I see Olaf Garner, the Encode winner from two years ago, all the time. Not a day goes by when he doesn’t pull up to the office in his yellow Ferrari, flashing cash, and dating supermodels like it’s nothing. By the way, the Ferrari alone costs like, six hundred grand, only a fraction of what the guy makes since his project went public.”
An icy shiver zinged up Ally’s spine, and she tried not to visibly tremble.
Why didn’t Chip tell me? Why didn’t he tell me?
Had he simply forgotten? But as Greg had said, this was big news. Not the sort of thing someone as sharp-minded as Chip just “forgot.”
Maybe she didn’t know him as well as she thought. Maybe she’d held on to far too much of the well-meaning boy she’d once known. Maybe the man she’d been with today wasn’t so innocent after all, his lack of transparency a testament to the distance he intended to keep with her. She’d voiced a desire to get out of Harlow. It wasn’t a stretch that Chip might fear she’d see him as her ticket out.
Then again, his motivations for secrecy could be far worse. That he used her as a way to blow-off steam while he finished his work in this sleepy and otherwise boring town. He’d abandon her once again, only his path this time led to a far more glamorous destination—so far removed from anything anyone in Harlow could ever imagine.
“Okay. Ready to go?” The man himself entered the room, and everyone turned to Chip in another heavy and collective silence. He peered about, his bright and unassuming smile dipping to a small frown. “What? What did I miss?”
Her heart gave an uncomfortable and hard thump. She hated where her mind had gone with regards to this man. Hated that she had to hide her raging and raw emotions in front of him and his friends.
So she rose from her seat and tried not to wince at the pitchy scrape of those metal legs over the floorboards. “I think I’ll go. This is a reunion between college friends, and I’m not one.” She offered Chip a tight smile and mini wave as she powered toward the exit. “I’ll catch you tomorrow, maybe.”
Her heart lurched once more, the uncertainty behind her “maybe” literal in meaning. The front door loomed just up ahead, but the steady pound of Chip’s footfall caught her all too soon.
“Hey”—heavy hands landed on her shoulders, and he spun her around, his gaze darting about her face in a probable search for reasons behind her hurried exit—“I’m sorry, my friends…”
His intimate whisper trailed, but his hand snaked around her waist as though he’d already figured her mood ran deeper than today’s already unpleasant surprise visit.
But even as she reeled at her far-too-sobering brush with reality, the touch of his hand at her waist sent a small flutter through her tummy. There he went again . Literally. Figuratively. Pulling her in.
“This…” She paused, clearing her throat to distract from the hot prickle behind her eyes. “It’s all too much.”
The tension across his brow dropped, and his expression turned slack and incredulous. “Which part exactly? My friends showing up, or—”
Not wanting to hear him talk of their intimate moment, she squeezed her eyes shut and uttered, “Everything. It’s everything. ”
And as she opened her eyes again, she schooled her voice into something more defiant than a rough whisper, stabbing her finger toward the kitchen where his friends sat. “I have nothing in common with your friends. I mean, sure, there’s one girl there, but she’s—”
“A geek?” A smile wobbled the corner of his lip.
“Yes, a geek. And your friends intimidate me. So, I can’t go to Maynard’s with you. The conversation will get technical, and I’ll have nothing to do but down one drink after another, which will only make you regret inviting me along.”
“I doubt that.”
She let out an exasperated sigh and leaned into him, tracing a finger along his hairline for no other reason than, at this rare moment, she still could. “Remember in sixth grade when our school ran a math competition? Not only did you beat the rest of the school, but you went all the way to place second at the nationals.”
His brow drew, the new wrinkles there belying confusion. “Yeah?”
“Remember how I was like the third student knocked out in our class, just behind Paul Chester and Paolo Diaz—a kid who could probably still do math way better than me but for being only in his fifth week of living in an English-speaking country?”
His mouth curled into a small smile. Even back then, he’d found humor in her academic failure. Though to be fair, most times, she did too. “Yeah?”
“Well”—she eased back and out of his hold—“that’s what it feels like when I’m talking to your friends.”
“Ally.” He took a few hurried steps and followed her hand pressed to his front door, set for her escape. “I can tell them to steer clear of any shop talk.”
She gestured down at her outfit, which wasn’t even her outfit. “Still a hard pass. Look at me. The patrons at Maynard’s might not notice these are Sarah’s, but she sure as heck will. And then she’ll take one look at me with you and know exactly why I’m wearing her clothes.”
His cheeks sank, suggesting he finally accepted her many reasons for leaving, even though he really didn’t want to. “Greg’s car is blocking yours, just let me get his keys, okay?”
Even though she nodded her understanding, he didn’t move right away, his attention sticking like he sought to hold on to her just one moment more.
Perhaps he sensed it too. That she wasn’t ditching him, but that an indisputable time limit still hung over this relationship.
So, she sought to help him out, already catching the double-meaning in her words before they even left her mouth. “Thanks for helping me leave.”