Adam hadn’t bothered with a hat or anything beyond his coat with the fleece collar. I was already regretting my scarf. It was almost too warm.
“We could walk around,” I said. “Shoot the breeze, chew the fat, bandy words.”
“That’s all we do anyway. Not all we do, but whatever we’re doing, we always talk.”
“I know, but you realize there is still a ton we don’t know about each other. We sort of skipped the usual Q&A that most people go through.”
Adam laughed. “’Cause we knew we were going to be stuck with each other regardless.”
“Exactly.”
“It worked out though.”
“As far as you know. What if you find out I’m a closeted Trekkie or I discover you’re a Bronie?”
“What’s a Bronie?”
“A guy who likes My Little Pony.”
Adam’s voice boomed, “WHO TOLD YOU?” When I stopped laughing, he said, “See? It’s too late. We’re already friends.”
“I still have questions.”
“I guess I do, too. You never told me much about that film program.”
I hunched my shoulders a little. “It’s not a big deal,” I said, fiddling with the zipper on my jacket. “There’s a thing in LA for high school students. If I get accepted, I’ll get to learn all about moviemaking and, in my case, directing.”
Adam’s eyebrows rose and I couldn’t tell if he was impressed or thought it was stupid.
I hunched my shoulders more. “Like I said, it’s not a big deal.”
“You’ll get accepted. You’re super bossy, and that music video you showed me was incredible.”
I bit back a smile and scrunched up my face. “Am I really that bossy?”
“Oh yeah, but isn’t that like a prerequisite for a director?”
Deadly serious, I said, “I really hope so.”
Adam laughed. “I think it’s cool.”
“Yeah?”
He nodded. “So what’s the application process?”
“I have to write an essay, send in a few short films, and get a letter of recommendation from someone who can—” here I added air quotes “—discuss my creative strengths in relation to film and filmmaking.”
“Who are you going to ask for the recommendation?”
“I have no idea. I’ll find someone though.” I was glad he wasn’t asking about the short films, especially the one he was in, because I wasn’t ready to show it to him yet.
“I think my dad said there’s a new guy in the building who’s some kind of movie critic.”
I grabbed one of Adam’s arms with both of mine. “Are you serious?”
“I think so. I’ll try to find out.”
“I will seriously love you forever if you find him for me.”
“And just yesterday you made me watch a movie about how I can’t buy me love.” He shook his head, and I threw mine back with a laugh.
“Okay, my turn for questions.”
“Ask away.”
“Where do you live?”
“Little town called Telford,” he said. “It’s a thirty-minute drive north from here without traffic. What about you?”
“My mom’s house is in the city. We could go later if we want to forge a suicide pact.”
Adam stopped walking. “Are you saying that because of the house or the occupant?”
“Both lately.”
Adam got that uncomfortable look on his face that meant I’d made him feel sad and guilty.
“Not because of my mom, at least not completely. I told you about the guy from her gym that she’s seeing. He claims to be a financial expert—maybe he is, I don’t know. He’s got her all worked up about the money my dad is hiding from her.”
“Is he? Your dad, I mean?”
“Totally. Before the divorce, my dad could buy and sell the entire Oak Village apartment building ten times over, and now he’s living here and claiming that he can’t afford anything nicer—no offense to your dad, the place is better since he started working on it.” I stopped walking. “I’m starting to sound like Tom. He’s trying to get my mom to hire a forensic accountant to look through my dad’s finances and get more alimony out of him. My dad isn’t an idiot though, so I doubt they’ll find anything, which means that if she wants more money, then she’ll have to get a job and do something besides work out and drink. Maybe she’ll grow up and care about someone besides herself. Maybe they both will.” I was breathing like a bull, steam billowing in and out. Adam hadn’t known half the stuff I’d just unloaded on him. No one did.
I needed to get back to safer, less-uncomfortable-for-both-of-us ground. “Just forget I said all that. My point is that until we can drive, we won’t be hanging out anywhere except here.” We’d come full circle and were approaching our building again. We passed the sign, and neither of us looked at it.
Adam’s response was to nod his head and shove his hands into his pockets.
“Let’s just do more questions,” I said. “Favorite color?”
“Red. You?”
“Purple. Candy?”
“Jelly beans. You?”
“Fireballs. Holiday?”
“Halloween. You?”
“Same. Candy and costumes for the win.” We went back and forth until we both shook off the unwelcome heaviness of my earlier confession. A pair of squirrels with fluffy gray tails darted right in front of us, chasing each other up a spindly birch tree. We laughed, and it was okay again.
“More serious questions. What’s your favorite song?”
“Of all time? ‘Classical Gas.’”
I smacked him in the chest. “That’s mine, too!”
He grinned. “Really?”
“No. Who puts the word gas in a song title?”
“Mason Williams. And seriously, don’t knock the song.”
I held my hands up in surrender. “It’s pretty, okay. But the title...” I shook my head.
“What’s your favorite song?”
“‘Jolene’ by Dolly Parton.” I lifted a shoulder when he side-eyed me. “What can I say? I’m a narcissist.” Plus nobody puts pain to lyrics like Dolly Parton. “Book?”