Page 84 of More For Me

“Oh.” It’s not fair to let that sting, but it does. “Where are you headed?”

“Out with a friend from work.”

“Anyone I know?” I’ve met up with Bodhi and some of his colleagues at the bar several times over the years. He’s popular with that crowd, because he’s popular with everyone, and it’s nice to see how much his co-workers respect and admire him.

“I think so. You’ve met Jordan Stewart, right?”

My stomach drops straight to my feet. Bodhi talks about Jordan Stewart quite a bit whenever work stuff comes up. They’re in the same department so they have a lot of meetings together. I would say she’s his closest friend at the school.

She’s also completely gorgeous, in a soft, girl-next-door kind of way. And she’s absolutely infatuated with Bodhi.

It took me about three seconds in her presence to know that. She looks at him like he hung the moon. Since Bodhi is a boy, and boys are clueless, I’m pretty sure he never noticed. But I definitely did.

“Sure, I remember Jordan.” My voice sounds funny. “Is this like, an English department thing?” I try to add a laugh but that sounds funny, too.

“Nah, we’re just grabbing dinner.”

I stare at him as he walks over to the nightstand to get his phone, and realization—horrible, horrible realization—washes over me. He’s dressed up. He didn’t mention any other colleagues that might be joining them. He didn’t say drinks or hanging out, the way he usually does when he’s meeting up with people from work.

Bodhi is going on a date.

“What are you up to tonight?” he asks, stepping into his closet.

“I…nothing really,” I manage to get out, barely aware of what I’m saying. Bodhi is going on a date.Bodhiis going on adate.

“I think Fox said something about going over to River’s,” he offers, but he seems distracted as his eyes scan the shoes lined up neatly on the floor. “What do you think? Black or brown?”

“The Cole Haan Oxfords,” I say automatically, even as the siren in my brain continues to blare.

“Thanks,” he says, bending over to grab the shoes. When he straightens, and sees me frozen in his closet doorway like a statue, his brow furrows. “You okay?”

“Oh, sure, yeah! Absolutely. Totally okay.”

I am so not okay.

Bodhi gives me a strange look. “You sure?”

I finally realize that I’m blocking his way and jump a foot backwards, nearly falling on my ass. My cheeks flame and this time it’s me avoiding his eyes.

“I’ll, um, let you finish getting ready,” I say lamely, heading to the door.

“I’m done,” he says, following me. Apparently, I can’t even sneak away in shame. Out of the corner of my eye I see his shiny black shoes tucked under his arm, and my heart gives a huge lurch. Bodhi never wears shoes in the house—in any house. He told me once it was a respect thing in his family’s culture, and something his mother was incredibly strict about.

When he first got to college, he decided he was going to wear sneakers around the dorm like the other guys. God, I can remember his warm brown eyes twinkling in amusement when he told me that story, his voice filled with self-deprecation at his major act of teenage rebellion. He said he felt so sick at the idea of his mother being disappointed in him that the shoes-on-inside phase lasted less than two days.

That silly little story always stuck with me. Something about it felt so completely Bodhi. And the idea of going downstairs and watching him step into those shoes at the front door, right before leaving for his date, makes me feel like crying.

So I veer in the other direction when we get to the hallway, heading to my room instead of the stairs. “Have fun,” I call over my shoulder, hoping he can’t hear how completely wrecked I am.

“Thanks. Have a good night.”

As I step into my room, I can’t help looking back at him. He’s almost out of sight on the stairs but what I can see of him makes that urge to cry even stronger. He’s looking straight ahead, wearing that outfit that made me lose my mind all those weeks ago, so damn gorgeous that I can hardly believe he’s real.

Then he disappears down the stairs, not looking back at me once. I walk into my bedroom and do the only thing that makes any sense right now. I call my mom.