Chapter 23
23
Sybil
Kieran and I walked out of the shelter fifteen minutes later. The director, a woman he said was friends with his grandfather, had shooed us out, telling Kieran there was no need for him to stay and that they were set for volunteers for the night. Aside from anything having to do with me, I’d never seen Kieran uncertain—he seemed to move through most things with self-assurance, but when she’d told him to go, his eyes had snapped around the space. The crease in his brow made me assume he was taking in everything that needed to be done, things that he could do.
“If you want to stay, that’s okay,” I said when we stepped out onto the crumbling concrete.
“Nah. She said they’re staffed.”
I yanked my door handle up, my grunt earning a sideways glance from Kieran. “What? It sticks.”
I felt his stare on my fingers, and I turned the key, whispering for the car to start up, which it luckily did after two attempts.
“Guess you’ll probably get a new car soon with your winnings, huh?”
I looked over my shoulder, since the passenger mirror wasn’t exactly usable. The idea of money had been distant all day. At the festival, I could focus on the donuts and ignore the existential dread of everything I could possibly want being at my fingertips. I ignored his question. “The money posted to my account today, actually,” I admitted. “I got the notification when we were packing up.”
I thought I would jump for joy or scream when I saw that message, but I’d just stared at it, rereading the text three or four times and letting it sink in. I didn’t know how to be a rich person, and it felt completely bizarre to have so much money available to me. I’d logged out of my account feeling overwhelmed instead of looking at the numbers any longer.
“That’s exciting. What will you buy first?”
I scanned the road. “I don’t know.” Walking through the shelter with Kieran had me thinking I should donate some of it to a good cause. I knew my mom would be proud of that, but more than that, I’d seen how many people needed support, needed people with money to care. I’d always known that, but it was just hitting me that now I was one of those people with money. I’d stood back while Kieran and the director, Maggie, talked to two men they knew, and thought back on my own life. I’d been allowed to rely on luck knowing I had a safety net whenever the next lucky break didn’t pan out. Not everyone had that. “I should see how I can use the money to help those who are unhoused or hungry,” I said.
“There are a lot of people to help,” he said.
“And I could give you your portion now if you want,” I said. “I trust you’ll follow through on our deal.”
He nodded and looked out the window. “We’ll see,” he said, facing the window. “I should finish our deal first.” I’d had a feeling he’d say that, and I wished I’d just given Joe the check to begin with.
We drove in silence, and perhaps he was thinking it through or just tired of talking to me, but I couldn’t take the quiet any longer. “What do you like to do for fun, Kieran? I mean, I know you pretty much just work, but if you had time, what would you do?”
“I still study every night when I can. Making sure I stay sharp.”
“And what else? I know I’m the love of your life on Instagram, but there are a lot more girls who could use kissing after choir practice. When was the last time you went on a date?”
“I don’t sing anymore, and we spent the evening before the TV spot together. That counts as a date.”
“That doesn’t count!” My exclamation was louder than I planned, but that answer couldn’t stand. “That was a strategy session, and it was at your place of work. An actual date. One that starts with butterflies in your stomach and ends with a great, if awkward, first kiss.”
When he chuckled, it caught me off guard, and I didn’t expect how that low rumble would make me feel something unexpected, like that first night. “When was the last time you went on a date like that? I seem to remember that you’d given up on men in favor of donuts and cash. Something about a poorly lit dick pic?”
“Well,” I said, hitting the gas to make it through another yellow light before his white-knuckle hold on the door tightened. “You don’t have to grip the handle like that,” I said. “I’m an excellent driver.”
“You know yellow doesn’t mean speed up, right?”
“That is a matter of opinion.” I waved him off. Grace drove like my mom—careful, cautious, deferent to other drivers. Although he’d long since taken off and my mom was the one who’d taught me, I drove like my dad, taking every additional mile per hour as a point of pride. “Yellow is a challenge, like a moment when you can do or die.”
“?‘Die’ being the operative word,” Kieran said, but he loosened his grip and relaxed into the seat, his hand resting on his thigh. “You didn’t answer my question about the date,” he added finally. His voice was casual, but the reminder came out of nowhere as we slowed behind a semi.
“It’s been a while since I went on a good date.” I flipped my blinker as I shifted to the left lane, catching Kieran’s grip tightening again in my periphery. “Do you want to drive?”
“Yes,” he said, not loosening his grip on the handle. “How do you still have a license?”
I reached out to swat him on the arm, intending to lay into him about overreacting about my driving, but we swerved just a little when I moved my hand, and the blaring horn from the car next to us left me pulling back my defense. I gripped the wheel with two hands and let out a slow exhalation before saying under my breath, “I guess it’s just one more thing about me that’s kind of a mess.”
The sounds of the road filled the air between us, and deep down, I was hoping he’d fight me on my comment and tell me I wasn’t a mess, but he just looked out the window. I noticed his grip loosening again, though. “You just do it differently from me,” he said. “I’m not used to it.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “Maybe that’s our thing and I’ll make fun of how slow you drive when you’re behind the wheel.”
“How do you know I’m a slow driver?” He chuckled at my raised eyebrow. “Fine. It’s a deal, but for the record, I drive the speed limit.” I saw him grin out of the corner of my eye. “Why did you ask if I date?”
“We’re trying to convince everyone we’re in love. It seemed relevant.” I looked and then double-checked my mirrors before merging toward the exit for the East Village and Kieran’s apartment. “Maybe it doesn’t matter.”
He nodded, looking back out the window, and I wondered if I’d made a huge mistake. It was feeling more and more like this was going to blow up in our faces very publicly and I’d be even more of a joke to my family than I already was.
“We should practice,” he said. His hand jerked toward the handle as I hit the brakes, maybe a little hard, but I noticed him pull his hand back and rest it on his thigh. “Today it felt awkward every time you touched me. Other people probably noticed that, right?”
I was pretty sure they hadn’t. I’d lost track of the number of people, almost always older women in patterned sweaters, who had oohed and aahed at us with hearts in their eyes. This felt like progress, though, so I didn’t commit to an answer. “You did seem a little stiff.”
He chuckled to himself, finally looking away from the window and at me. “Sybil, I think you’re planning on making a joke about me being stiff, and I’m begging you not to.”
“Okay,” I said as I flipped my blinker to turn down his street. “But you’re making it really hard,” I tossed back, risking a glance at his face and being rewarded with his set expression unfolding into a laugh.
“Glad we could avoid that sticky situation,” he said.
“Kieran, you made a dick joke.” I said a prayer that I wouldn’t have to parallel park as we neared the building. “And it was a marginally good one.”
“I’m not always as rigid as I seem,” he said, unbuckling after I found a mercifully well-spaced-out spot so I didn’t have to experience the trauma of parallel parking while someone watched.
“I mean, from what I remember…”
He held up his hand. “Must we?”
I laughed and leaned back in my seat. “Okay. Okay. Continue.”
“It just takes a while for me to feel comfortable with someone. I can’t do casual intimacy, at least not convincingly.” His sobered voice hit a nerve in me, and I looked up at his apartment. “I was a total wreck on that TV show.”
“That makes sense. Well, we can practice or whatever, in private so you’re more comfortable next time we’re in public.” I fingered my seat belt, ignoring my phone vibrating in the cup holder, my mom’s name flashing on the screen.
“You’re popular,” he said, motioning to the phone.
“My mom has been sending me the names of financial planners all day and reminding me to make a plan.” I picked it up and silenced it after catching the most recent message. “And reminding me to invite you over to meet her. I’ll get back to her later. What are you doing tomorrow?”
“You’re not sick of me yet after a whole day?”
“Who can resist someone so effervescent?”
He laughed this time, and it sounded to me like a pity laugh, but at least I’d gotten behind that tough exterior. “I’ll be trying to get some sleep. Lila is going to a concert, so I’m on prep tomorrow night at the shop. We have a big order to fill.”
“Oh,” I said, still toying with the seat belt clasp. “Must be a lot of work to keep everything going. I could keep you company?”
“I can’t ask you to do that.”
“Well, you didn’t ask. I offered.” I reached for his hand, and he tensed under my touch. “It’s private, and we could practice looking natural as a couple. Plus, who doesn’t like someone to keep them company? And if you want, you can feed me donuts. It’ll be like a throwback to our first night.”
His eyes widened, and his hand twitched under my fingers.
“Without the phenomenal oral sex. We’ll be all business.” I patted his hand and then pulled mine back. Him tensing under my touch gave me a weird combination of feeling ashamed at being too forward and turned on at the idea of practicing. “Scout’s honor,” I said, holding up three fingers, the one thing I’d held on to from my stint as a Brownie.
“Okay,” he said, looking down at his hand as if I might have marked him. “If you’re sure.”
“Positive.”
We made a plan to meet at the shop the next night, and he hopped out of the car. I’d had a fun day, even if I was bone tired.
My phone buzzed again in the cup holder, this time a call from Mom, and I tapped the ignore icon. Muting the reminders of everything I needed to figure out all day had been freeing, and I wanted to put them off a little longer, staying in this happy bubble from my day with Kieran. It seemed like each time we hung out, I saw a little more sweetness from him, so I wondered what practicing intimacy would be like.