I nod. “I was wondering if we’d be overrun by ankle biters.”
She snorts. “Ankle biters?”
“You’ve never heard that term? It means kids.” Not that I mind them, but the zoo has more kids than animals most days.
“No ankle biters. It’ll be a chill evening checking out the zoo animals while sipping a frosty drink. It’s going to be amazing.”
I roll my eyes behind my sunglasses. Whatever she says. We’re nearing the entrance. Vegetation lines the other side of the fence around the property so that you can’t get a free peek inside. Not that you’d see animals, anyway. It’s more likely to be the workers and the backs of the animal habitats.
We pass the fancy souvenir shop guarded over by giant metal statues of a giraffe family, and then Stevie points to the admission gate where Emmy and Jude wait. “There they are.”
My gut clenches when I see Jude’s wide smile for Stevie.
“Hey!” Stevie hugs Emmy and—I almost choke—kisses Jude on the cheek. He looks disgustingly happy about it, too. I know she’s been texting with both of them, but how much is about disc dog club stuff and how much . . . isn’t? I say hello to them, but I don’t kiss or hug Emmy. The last thing I want to do is to give her the wrong impression.
Stevie already has electronic tickets for all of us. I’d offered to pay for mine, but she’d declined. She holds her phone out for the gate attendant and a few minutes later we’re standing in front of the lion exhibit, a frosty beer in each of our hands.
It is different visiting the zoo without kids or families around. I haven’t been here in years, but I remember dodging small humans who did their best to trip you up while also waiting patiently as crowds of moms, dads, grandparents, and kids pushed strollers, dragged wagons, chased escapers, and comforted criers, all while forcing their way to the fronts of the exhibits so the kids could see better.
Don’t get me wrong, I like kids and personally believe they should get all the front row viewing they want. But they make the zoo more chaotic, louder, and less desirable to visit on a normal day. Tonight is different. Small groups of adults move from exhibit to exhibit, chatting at a normal decibel level.
Take the lions, for example. Normally, wide eyes and sticky palms would be pressed against the glass to see them better. Now, a handful of people stand back so we all can gawk at the lions, hyenas, and wild dogs that share the big cat exhibit.
Unfortunately, there isn’t a lot to see right now. One lone female sits on a small hill in the middle of the dirt filled enclosure. The late afternoon sun glints off her golden fur, washing her out and somehow putting a spotlight on her at the same time. She gazes imperiously through the glass at us. Intruders, her expression seems to say. Unimportant ones.
I wonder how quickly she could chase me down if she was hungry enough. Too quickly to survive, I’m sure. She tosses her head and looks another direction as if she knows she’s being watched. She’s magnificent.
I’m wondering if lions eat birds, and if so, which kinds, when someone touches my arm. “Logan?”
I blink and focus on Emmy.
“Ready?”
Jude and Stevie have already walked away, totally focused on each other. Emmy waited for me. She really is a nice girl.
“Sorry, I guess I was lost in thought. That lion is amazing.”
“She really is. Although my personal favorites are the seals and sea lions. They’re so playful.”
“What about Jude?” My eyes are on his back ahead as we follow them onto the main path. “What does he want to see?” I’m not just talking about animals.
“I think he likes the tigers best.”
Tigers, huh? That figures. The tiger’s stalking my girl. My eyes narrow.
Emmy goes on. “Stevie said you’re a big fan of birds?”
I wince. “She told you that, huh?”
Her forehead wrinkles. “Shouldn’t she have?”
I sigh. “No, it’s fine. It’s only that bird watching isn’t, you know, all that popular.”
“I think it’s great to have a hobby, no matter what it is.”
I smile. “Thanks. I agree.”
We pass a building that houses the new stingray exhibit on the left, or so the sign outside says, and I spot zebras coming up on the right. Huge, overhanging trees, low music playing through speakers hidden in rocks, free-roaming peacocks, and even the ever-present smell of animal poo adds to the zoo vibe. I relax a little. I’m here now; might as well enjoy it.
“How was the rest of your week?” I ask. “Do anything fun?”
I’d seen her two days ago at club, but we need something to talk about. She tells me about a series she’s watching on Netflix about a woman who journeys alone into Colorado to build a homestead in the 1800s. It sounds good, but about halfway through her description of the show, I lose my focus.
Jude has his hand on Stevie’s back. Her lower back, right where it meets her butt, a place where hands really aren’t supposed to visit unless they know that particular back very well. My jaw tightens, and I feel my hands forming fists. He guides her around a knot of people blocking the path but leaves his hand there for way too long after he’s accomplished that goal.
When I glance back at Emmy, she’s stopped talking. Her mouth twitches, and her right eyebrow is raised. “Logan . . . can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” I try to focus, but half my brain is on Jude’s hand. Or, more accurately, on Stevie’s butt. “What’s up?”
She hesitates, but then asks in a firm voice, “Are you and Stevie really just friends?”
I blink. “Yes. I mean, well, no. We live together. But if you mean are we in another kind of relationship . . .”
Words jumble and pile up in my brain. I can’t quite spit out the answer to her question. We’re walking past the zebras now. I feel their black eyes on me, along with Emmy’s, and I start to sweat. Somewhere in the trees overhanging the path, a bird laughs at me. That’s how it sounds, anyway. I finally force the words out.
“No. We’re not.”
Emmy nods and adjusts the strap of her small purse across her summer top. “I hope I’m not sticking my nose too far into your business here, but that seemed hard for you to answer.”
I close my eyes for a second. It was hard. Way too hard. I grit my teeth, unsure what to say, and then I deflate and nod. “Yeah.”
My eyes are on the zebras again. I won’t say more, but it doesn’t seem like I need to. Emmy seems to get what I’m not saying.
“So, here’s the thing,” she says. “Stevie is your best friend. Jude is mine. I’ve known him since college, and we’re close. We don’t live together like you two, but . . .” She wrinkles her nose, and her face flushes. “I wish we did. I . . . wish we were a lot more than friends.”
“Oh.” I straighten, surprised. “Okay.” I think about it. “So . . . we might be in a similar situation.”
She waits, as if she thinks I’ll say more, but I can’t make myself do it. I’ve never talked about my feelings for Stevie so openly, and especially not with someone I’d recently met. It’s not easy.
Stevie and Jude stopped to check out the giraffes. They stand close beside each other at the railing. We stop farther back.