Page 28 of Tangled Up In You
Her silence communicated the skepticism he could easily imagine on her face. But when she spoke, he heard only her smile: “Are you bringing someone when you visit?”
“No,” he said, too fast, too sharply. Relenting, he admitted, “She’s a classmate who needed a ride. It’s not like that between us.” For some bewildering reason, he added, “She couldn’t afford the bus or plane.”
“That’s nice of you, sweet boy.”
“Nah, it’s fine,” he said.
A silence lingered on the other end. “But if it’s just the two of you, you know what that means, don’t you? Means it’s your job to look after her whether you like her or not.”
A tiny ache flared in his ribs at the idea of Mary at this age at the mercy of a stranger the way Ren was right now. If anyone understood that Fitz’s life had been hard, it was Mary—because hers had been hard, too.
This, right here, was why he’d never let Ren sleep in the car.
“Of course I will, Mare, you know me.”
“You’re a good boy.”
I’m not, he thought. But to the only woman who mattered to him, he said, “I’m trying.”
By the time the door to the bathroom opened, Fitz was off the call and contemplating whether he wanted to Postmates some late-night burgers or burritos. He was starving. He was also resigned to the fact that he’d be floating Ren for this trip. Despite what everyone assumed, Fitz wasn’t flush with cash, but he worked hard and didn’t spend much; he wasn’t strapped, either. Later, he’d worry about how she’d pay him back. For now, hunger took priority.
“Burgers or burritos?” he asked without looking up.
“Fitz! That’s my bed!”
Now he did look up. All that hair was somehow wrapped up in a towel. She was wearing a too-big T-shirt that he hoped was covering sleep shorts, but the only thing that extended past the hem of the shirt was her long, smooth legs. In her arms was a bundle of clothing; a thin white bra strap dangled from the pile, and he immediately looked away, unwilling to put bras and Ren in the same thought.
“What are you talking about?” he asked, his eyes back on his phone.
“The bed,” she said, and stepped into view so he was looking down at her bare feet. “I made that for myself. You paid for the room, you get to sleep in the real bed.”
“It’s fine.”
“Fitz—”
“Ren.” He cut her off, looking up again. “I’m not arguing about this. I’m too hungry. Just tell me if you prefer burgers or burritos.”
A brief pause, and then: “I’ve never had a burrito before. Are they good?”
He sat up. “Are they good? Is that a serious question?” He was going to have to stop being surprised every time they ran into something Ren hadn’t experienced, but some things were beyond his comprehension. He couldn’t imagine life without burritos, and despite hours of annoyance today he felt a buzz of excitement for her to experience this. “Burritos it is. Trust me, you’re going to flip.”
She walked to her backpack and then approached, handing him a five-dollar bill. He pushed it away. “Let’s figure that out later, okay? I’ll keep receipts.”
“Okay, but please take the big bed.”
Fitz fell back again, rubbing himself all over the pile of blankets on the floor, rolling from his stomach to his back before sitting up again. “There,” he said. “I’ve marked it. It’s mine.”
“Please, if you think that will deter me, you clearly don’t know that I’ve slept in a pen with pigs before.”
“Gross.” That was hardly worse than some of the places he’d slept, but he didn’t bother mentioning it. He pushed to his knees to find the TV remote. “Why don’t you pick something for us to watch?”
Ren took the remote like he was handing her a magic wand. “Really?”
“With great power comes great responsibility,” he told her absently, scrolling through the menu of a local Mexican joint. “Choose wisely.”
“There are so many buttons.”
“Push the red one.”