first year or two of college. You don’t have any of that.”
I swallowed hard. “Life hasn’t really been silly for me.”
“No, I suppose not. You stare at the world like you’ve figured it out and found it all very lacking.”
Maybe there was truth to that. I didn’t really know. I did know that I wasn’t angry. I also knew that I might display a tough outer shell, but inside I was soft and tender. “I’m not totally cynical.”
“No, I didn’t mean that. Just… wise. You’re like my little owl.”
I wasn’t sure that was flattering or not. But I focused on his use of the word “my.”
“Who?” I said, completely deadpan.
For a split second he didn’t get it. Then he burst out laughing. “Good one.”
I smiled back at him.
But then he got serious again, so quickly I wondered what thought had popped into his head. “What?”
“Part of me wishes you were immature, annoying.”
“Why?”
“You know why. Don’t pretend not to understand.”
I knew what I wanted it to be. I said nothing.
“But you’re not.”
“I hope I’m not annoying.”
His knee nudged mine. “Nope. Not even close. Are we friends, Tiffany?”
Trick question or not, I wanted to answer honestly. “I hope so. I want to be friends.”
He rubbed his jaw. “I want a lot of things. But sometimes we can’t have them.”
“So we can’t be friends?” It was like he enjoyed tormenting me. Dangling closeness in front of me, then taking it away.
“I think that it’s impossible for us not to be.” He looked away from me and at his computer screen. “Yes, I would like dinner.”
It must be nice to be able to conveniently dismiss people. To be in control of jumping that fence from employer to friend and back again.
“I’m off duty for the day. You can come and help me though if you’d like.”
He turned slowly back to me, clearly caught off guard. “You have balls bigger than some forty-year-old men, I’ll give you that.”
I pretended to glance between my thighs. “And yet I can still wear skinny jeans.”
Devin gave a snort. “You’re a stand-up comedienne tonight.”
“I have my moments.” I stood up to leave.
But Devin reached out and touched my arm. “I’ll be down to help in five minutes.”
I smiled warmly, glad he was conceding the point to me. “Good. I made cookies already.”
He made a sound in the back of his throat. “God, you’re killing me. For real.”
The feeling was mutual.
“So where did you learn to shoot?” Devin asked me a few days later.
“Cat’s dad, one of my foster fathers.” I hefted the rifle on my shoulder as we walked out to his range. It was behind the garage and had the proper safety targets so no bullets would ricochet. “I was thirteen when I went there to live and I was four inches shorter than I am now, and about sixty pounds, I think. He figured I might need to protect myself some day.” My boots crunched on the frozen ground. “He was a good man.”
“Do you ever get to see him?”
“He’s dead,” I said shortly.
Devin put his hand on the small of my back as we walked. “I’m sorry,” he said simply and I knew he meant it.
“Yeah. It sucks. Cat took it really hard.”
“I don’t know how you survived all those foster homes, honestly.”
“I did, because I had to.” I shrugged. “And I was one of the lucky ones. No one molested me or truly physically abused me.”
“Don’t downplay it.”
“I’m not.” We got to the target area. “I’m serious. I was lucky. It could have been a lot worse.”
“That’s how you learned to be so observant, isn’t it?”
“Probably. Where did you learn to shoot?” I set down the spare bullets.
“It wasn’t anything sexy, trust me. I did ROTC in college.”
“How is that not sexy?” I gave him a dirty look. “I swear you do that on purpose.”
“What?” Devin put headphones on me, clapping them in place over my ears.
I lifted one side so I could hear. “You pretend like
I swallowed hard. “Life hasn’t really been silly for me.”
“No, I suppose not. You stare at the world like you’ve figured it out and found it all very lacking.”
Maybe there was truth to that. I didn’t really know. I did know that I wasn’t angry. I also knew that I might display a tough outer shell, but inside I was soft and tender. “I’m not totally cynical.”
“No, I didn’t mean that. Just… wise. You’re like my little owl.”
I wasn’t sure that was flattering or not. But I focused on his use of the word “my.”
“Who?” I said, completely deadpan.
For a split second he didn’t get it. Then he burst out laughing. “Good one.”
I smiled back at him.
But then he got serious again, so quickly I wondered what thought had popped into his head. “What?”
“Part of me wishes you were immature, annoying.”
“Why?”
“You know why. Don’t pretend not to understand.”
I knew what I wanted it to be. I said nothing.
“But you’re not.”
“I hope I’m not annoying.”
His knee nudged mine. “Nope. Not even close. Are we friends, Tiffany?”
Trick question or not, I wanted to answer honestly. “I hope so. I want to be friends.”
He rubbed his jaw. “I want a lot of things. But sometimes we can’t have them.”
“So we can’t be friends?” It was like he enjoyed tormenting me. Dangling closeness in front of me, then taking it away.
“I think that it’s impossible for us not to be.” He looked away from me and at his computer screen. “Yes, I would like dinner.”
It must be nice to be able to conveniently dismiss people. To be in control of jumping that fence from employer to friend and back again.
“I’m off duty for the day. You can come and help me though if you’d like.”
He turned slowly back to me, clearly caught off guard. “You have balls bigger than some forty-year-old men, I’ll give you that.”
I pretended to glance between my thighs. “And yet I can still wear skinny jeans.”
Devin gave a snort. “You’re a stand-up comedienne tonight.”
“I have my moments.” I stood up to leave.
But Devin reached out and touched my arm. “I’ll be down to help in five minutes.”
I smiled warmly, glad he was conceding the point to me. “Good. I made cookies already.”
He made a sound in the back of his throat. “God, you’re killing me. For real.”
The feeling was mutual.
“So where did you learn to shoot?” Devin asked me a few days later.
“Cat’s dad, one of my foster fathers.” I hefted the rifle on my shoulder as we walked out to his range. It was behind the garage and had the proper safety targets so no bullets would ricochet. “I was thirteen when I went there to live and I was four inches shorter than I am now, and about sixty pounds, I think. He figured I might need to protect myself some day.” My boots crunched on the frozen ground. “He was a good man.”
“Do you ever get to see him?”
“He’s dead,” I said shortly.
Devin put his hand on the small of my back as we walked. “I’m sorry,” he said simply and I knew he meant it.
“Yeah. It sucks. Cat took it really hard.”
“I don’t know how you survived all those foster homes, honestly.”
“I did, because I had to.” I shrugged. “And I was one of the lucky ones. No one molested me or truly physically abused me.”
“Don’t downplay it.”
“I’m not.” We got to the target area. “I’m serious. I was lucky. It could have been a lot worse.”
“That’s how you learned to be so observant, isn’t it?”
“Probably. Where did you learn to shoot?” I set down the spare bullets.
“It wasn’t anything sexy, trust me. I did ROTC in college.”
“How is that not sexy?” I gave him a dirty look. “I swear you do that on purpose.”
“What?” Devin put headphones on me, clapping them in place over my ears.
I lifted one side so I could hear. “You pretend like
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