Page 169 of Meet Me at the Metro

“You’re hateful, you know that?”

“I said I’d help you run lines! I didn’t say I’d go easy on you.”

He shakes his head in dismay, tossing his playbook onto the silk-threaded rug as he rises from the couch and stalks toward the chicly designed kitchen. “I need a caffeine break. Want something?”

“Coke, please?”

“NoCokes, unfortunately. We’ve gotPepsi MaxorTango.”

“Pepsi’sfine.”

With two chilled cans in tow, Connor returns, tossing one into my lap as he plops back down on the loveseat beside me.

“Harvey loves these. He’s got a mini fridge full of them back at the flat,” I comment out loud, popping open the tab of my drink. I let the fizz settle before taking a sip.

Connor grins. “Does he?”

“He really does. I’ve been bringing him a few every time I visit him, and he gets as excited as a kid on Christmas morning.”

“It’s the little joys in life, innit? I hate that he can’t do the spring musical anymore.”

“Me too,” I sigh, feeling my gut twist with guilt.

“How was he doing today? Any changes?”

“He looked really good today. Told me he was feeling much better and said the Doctors are saying that his labs are trending down, which is a good thing. They’re hopeful they’ll be able to discharge him home within a week or so. They want to send him home with some oral antibiotics and have him come in for follow-ups to keep a close eye on everything.”

“I’m sure he’s excited to be home again.”

“He is. Poor thing has been stuck in that tiny hospital room for weeks now. Evie’s going crazy not having him at the flat.”

Connor’s eyes widen slightly at the mention of her name. “She doing okay?”

“I think? It’s hard to tell. I’m pretty sure she hides a lot of how she really feels. I think everything that happened that night at the club and with Harvey still has her shaken up, but she won’t dare admit to that.”

“I think she masks a lot of herself,” Connor remarks, distracting himself with the seam of his jeans.

After his statement, an awkward silence settles in the room, and I wonder what my friend’s words could mean. To me, Evie always seemed like an open book, one with bold letters that were clear with its thoughts and intentions. Was Connor aware of something I wasn’t regarding Evie? From the few instances I’ve seen the two of them interact, there was definitely an energy between them, but I couldn’t quite discern it. I wasn’t sure if it was the creation of genuine curiosity at one another’s contradictory personalities or something more.

“Anyways,” Connor blurts. “We should get back to rehearsing lines.”

“Right,” I nod. “But before we jump back into the agonizing practice of you forgetting your lines—”

“Arsehole.”

—can I use the restroom?”

“I should tell you no, just for that insult.” He kicks me with his socked foot right before he nods toward the staircase looming behind me. “Upstairs. Second door to your right.”

“Which one’s yours?” I ask as I start making my way up the steps, stopping halfway up them to hang my head over the banister. “That way, I can be sure I’m snooping in the right room.”

“Never telling you.”

“You’re just no fun!”

When I reach the landing of the second story, the hallway leading to the upstairs rooms is painted in a sleek shade of steely gray and accented with pearly white wainscoting. Polished golden decor and abstract artwork hang along the velvety walls. This house screamed elegance and finesse, which surprised me, given how humbly Connor tended to present himself.

Ivory sheets and a tufted, downy duvet catch the corner of my eye from the bedroom at the far end of the hall. It’s a far cry from being excused as the second door on the right, but I approach the room anyway, curiosity getting the best of me.

---