Wasted Words by Staci Hart
A guy who looked like Jesus rode by on a bike, both man and machine covered in blinking Christmas lights, and we watched him, waving.
He didn’t wave back.
“New York is weird,” Tyler said.
“So weird and awesome. We just saw Christ on a bike. You don’t get that kind of entertainment in Walnut.”
He laughed. “I mean, maybe at a college party in Lincoln, but not just walking home for sure.”
“How much do you miss home?”
He shrugged. “Sometimes worse than others. I mean, I could take or leave Lincoln itself, but I miss my sisters, my parents more than anything.”
“I wish I’d had a big family like you. Being an only child was kind of boring. I had to make my own fun.”
“Having three little sisters was mostly a pain. There was a lot of squabbling over important things like hair brushes and who was sitting where in the car. But man, I miss them. They’ve mellowed out some now that they’re older. Like, I never thought Meg and I would be as close as we are. Before high school, my parents had the hopeless job of making sure we didn’t murder each other.”
I laughed and stuffed my hands in my hoodie pockets.
“Dad always made pancakes on Sundays. Of course, you cook for me now, and you’re a way better cook than he is.” We stepped off the curb and crossed the empty street.
“Hey, you cook for me too.”
“Eggs don’t count as cooking.” He sighed. “I dunno. My family and I just used to spend a lot of time together, and it’s weird sometimes that I’m not a part of that like I used to be. But I couldn’t stay there, and not just because Jack offered me a job. Too many memories I can’t shake live in that town.”
His words were somber, and I hooked my arm in his, squeezing it in lieu of a real hug.
“Anyway,” he continued, perking up a little, “it’ll be good to go home next weekend and see everybody. Get my fill of Dad’s pancakes. What are you gonna do when I’m gone?”
“Oh, I dunno. Probably mope around, contemplate how I could ever survive without you.”
He looked down at me, grinning again as he booped my nose. “It’s true. You can’t live without me.”
I ignored the flush in my cheeks and laughed. “It’s true, but neither could you. Do you even remember how to make coffee?”
He snorted and rolled his eyes. “It’s not rocket science, Cam.”
“No, but you’d be late every day if you had to make it yourself.”
“That’s probably true,” he conceded. “How’s it going with Greg and Bayleigh?”
I caught a hint of disdain in his voice. “Fine. He walked her home last night and told me all about it.”
“He kiss her?” Tyler asked skeptically.
“Not yet.”
“So, no.” He was smirking again.
I made a face at him, and he laughed.
“You look like a cartoon character.”
“Bullwinkle?”
“Ha, ha. No, you look like a character in a Pixar movie. Giant eyes, tiny nose, big smile. And you make all these little faces. Like when you’re concentrating, you stick the tip of your tongue out, but always on the right side. Never the left.”
I laughed, feeling self-conscious. “Must be my critical brain at work.”
His nose wrinkled. “Wouldn’t that mean it would always stick out the left? That’s the logic side, right?”
“Yeah, but when information crosses the hemisphere, it reverses sides. That’s why super right-brained people are sometimes left-handed. Or that’s the rumor, at least.”
“See? And you’re smart, too. You’re so busy matching everyone up, but how come you haven’t found a match for yourself?”
I took a breath. “Because it’s easier to see everybody else’s connections. Mine’s too muddled by my own perspective.”
He made a noncommittal noise. “Adrienne’s nice,” he said out of nowhere, and my heart jolted.
“She is nice. I like her.”
“She likes you too.” He didn’t elaborate, but I could almost hear him thinking. I took the pause as an opening.
“You guys looked good together. I told you it was a good match.”
“You know best.”
I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, so I made light of it so there would be no question. “I do. I’m glad there’s no question on the matter or I’d bust out my list of conquests.”
He laughed. “So instead of a little black book—”
“I have a little pink notebook. And scrapbooks with engagement announcements and wedding invitations.”
“Not to brag.”
“Who, me? Never.”
He smiled down at me again as we walked up to the building, though when he reached for the door, his lips stretched in a yawn.
I sighed and walked in. “You shouldn’t have waited for me tonight.”
He gave me a look as we headed to the stairs. “Like I was going to let you walk home alone.”
“I only walked because you insisted, Drunky McTankerson. I would have taken a cab.”
He chuffed. “Not safe. You need muscle.” He made a tough guy face and flexed.
“Easy, boy. No need to break out the gun show for little ol’ me.”
The grin was back as he stripped off his sweatshirt. “Psh, now they’re really getting unfurled.” He stopped on the landing and gnashed his teeth, flexing his arms in front of him like a bodybuilder.
I laughed until my face was contorted as he hammed it up, changing positions.