Page 27 of Final Drive

“Give or take.” He takes the chair across from me without asking, which somehow isn’t unwelcome, and has the laptop out and open before he’s finished sitting. “You’ve also been tapping your pen in an inconsistent rhythm, which you never do, and you didn’t notice me come in.”

“Maybe I’m tired.”

“You’re dreading something.” He types something without looking at the screen. “Those texts at the dock. Your mother?”

I should mind being read like a set of results. Instead it’s a relief, because there’s nothing careful about it.

“My parents want dinner tonight. The Bellingham Club. Just the three of us.”

“Private room?”

“Of course.”

He stops typing. “So they can say whatever they want without anybody hearing it.”

“Pretty much.”

“You shouldn’t go alone.”

“They specifically said to.”

“Obviously.”

I look at him. “That’s generally how come alone works.”

“Isolation is the point, Reese.”

“I know.”

He goes quiet, gaze dropping to the table, and I can practically watch whatever he’s thinking sort itself into columns.

“Gray would last through appetizers,” he says finally. “Jackson would scare your mother, and Beckett would enjoy himself far too much.”

I stare at him. “You’ve thought about this.”

“Yes.”

“And?”

He adjusts his glasses. “I would be useful.”

It takes me a second. “You’re offering to come.”

“I’m saying I know how these dinners work. My parents are academics, but my grandmother’s side is old money. I spent most of my childhood at tables like that learning which fork to use and how to say nothing while appearing engaged.” His shoulders have gone tight even though his voice hasn’t. “Your parents won’t read me as a threat, and I’m very difficult to provoke.”

“That’s true.”

“I assume that was a compliment.”

“It mostly was.”

“I can be the concerned classmate supporting a friend through a difficult family conversation. They’ll ask questions. I’ll answer them without giving them anything useful.”

“Tyler.” I wait until he looks up. “Are you offering, or thinking out loud?”

He’s quiet for a moment before his voice drops. “I watched your face at the dock this morning when you read those messages. You looked like somebody bracing for a hit. You looked like you’ve had practice at it.”

I have to look at the table.