Page 47 of Just a Distraction

I laugh again and scrub Thorin’s ears. Thorin is her golden retriever, and she said she named him after Thorin OakenshieldfromThe Hobbit. I swear, I wanted to fan my face like some Victorian gal when she said that. It’s hot that she named her dog after a fantasy character, okay?

“I feel like it’s a badge of honor, though,” I say. “Like Callum and I imprinted. He’s my dude now.”

“You’re being chill about it all.” The look on Rose’s face is like she’d just been through a war—wan and tired. She also seems embarrassed.

I have to admit, it was a shock to be thrown up on without warning. Being the youngest, I’d never had that happen before. After it happened, I ran up to my suite, changed my clothes, and then brought down some towels and a T-shirt for Rose to change into if she wanted to, so she wouldn’t have to drive all the way home in her dirty one. She had a change of clothes for Callum with her, so by the time I got back downstairs and out to her car, he was cleaned up and in his car seat but still fussy with huge tears pooling in his eyes.

And Rose was upset. Her forehead knotted up—the stress coming off her in waves. She looked both defeated and ramped up, like she needed a good weeping session in a sound-proof chamber, followed by a nap.

I couldn’t leave her to deal with all that on her own, so I sat in the back seat next to Callum while she drove us all to her apartment. When we arrived, she checked out his ears and throat with her otoscope. “Everything looks clear, there,” she’d said.

I like watching her be a nurse.

“The thing that impressed me was the way you changed out of your shirt,” I tell her. I’m laid out on the floor of her apartment now, playing with toys with a freshly bathed Callum and the dog. I suddenly realize how my comment sounds.

“Out of context, that sounds kind of funny,” she says with a grin. She’s lying on the couch near us in her open plan familyroom that’s connected to the kitchen. It’s all very cozy. Very familial.

I like it.

“I’d just never seen someone put a T-shirt over their head, do something magical under the shirt, and voila! Their baby-vomit-stained shirt is whipped out of the bottom of the clean T-shirt.”

“You don’t have sisters, so . . .” She shrugs.

“And that explains it how?”

“It’s dance lessons one-oh-one. My mom would pick me up from school to take me to dance at the YMCA, but we were always in a rush, and always late, so I didn’t have time to change at the school or at dance lessons. I had to change in the car on the way. You learn some vital skills doing that.”

“Necessity is the mother of invention.”

“Yep. And full disclosure, I wasn’t a very good dancer, so I didn’t take lessons for long. It was a good thing since they were expensive.”

“That’s too bad.”

“It was fine. Like I said, I didn’t love it. The only times my mom’s tiny bank account bothered me was when I couldn’t go to science camp in the summers like my friends. That sucked.”

“Science camp?” I hand Callum another large plastic ring. He’s stacking them on a plastic cone.

“Don’t you judge.” She lifts a finger. “It’s the scientists who rule the world and you know it. I’m a nerd, and I live it proudly.”

“I bet I’m more of a nerd than you are.”

“Oh? Is this a contest, Milo?” She runs her hand down her thigh to scratch the smooth fabric of her sea-green leggings, but I’m tripped up by the movement. “Cause I could run circles around your nerdhood all day.”

“I go to comic cons every year,” I shoot back.

“Please.” She scoffs. “Lots of non-nerds go to comic cons. That doesn’t prove anything.”

“I wouldn’t say lots.”

She laughs. “Okay, maybe you’re right. So would you classify your nerdhood as more science fiction, comics, gaming, fantasy novels, stuff like that? Or actual science?”

“You know I’m no scientist. Battlestar Gallactica. Wheel of Time. I went through a Marvel Comics phase.” I swallow hard. “And fantasy fiction. Can’t get enough of the epic saga stuff, you know?” I want to tell her that I actually write it, but the words jam up inside.

Her mouth curves into a smile. She stands, tucks in an escaped lock of hair, and walks over to a cupboard in the corner of the room. “You know you’ve gained a certain level of trust when I allow you to see my secret stash.” She tugs open the cupboard and does a flourish with her arm. “Tada! Who’s the bigger nerd now, huh?”

I make a squeak. A very non-manly squeak, but I don’t have time to be embarrassed about it because I’m up off the floor and to the corner cupboard. “Robert Jordan? Joe Abercrombie? Patrick Rothfuss?”

“It’s a signed copy, even.” Rose slidesThe Name of the Windoff the bookshelf and opens up the front cover. “I’ve read this series five times, at least. Which is saying something because I usually don’t have time to do re-reads.”

---