“
Okay, then . . .” I stand up. “It’s been real,” I tell David flatly.
“Yeah,” he says. “Later.”
Ethan has leapt to his feet and joined us. “I’ll walk you guys to your car,” he says.
“That’s really nice, but you don’t have to,” I say. “We’re parked a couple of blocks away.”
“My brother said I should.”
“Yes, I did.” David gets up, jamming his phone in his pocket. “Come on. Let’s accompany these two lovely ladies to their car.”
I catch a whiff of sarcasm, but the other two are oblivious to it. Ethan resumes his X-Men discourse, but the rest of us are silent, and the walk feels endless. We come to a halt at our Subaru hatchback.
“This is yours?” David says, like he’s surprised.
“My mom’s.”
“Where’s your car?”
“Nonexistent?”
“Seriously? I pictured you always cruising around in some hot girl car like a Porsche or something.”
“A ‘hot girl car’? What does that even mean? That the girl is hot or the car is?”
He flushes. “I don’t know why I used that word. I never do.”
“Hot or girl?” I ask sweetly.
”
”