Page 113 of Whatever It Takes
And so far, he’s proven trustworthy at the store. No theft. No vandalism.
“Garrison,” Maya says, catching his attention from the video game. “Just a heads up, I’ll be quizzing you about Cable’s history on your next shift. Two wrong answers”—she holds up two fingers—“and you have toilet duty.”
“Shit,” he mutters and mouths to me,who’s Cable?
I try to restrain a smile. “I’ll help you.” Cable is inX-Menand has a complex history, tangled with Scott Summers, so it might go over his head at first, but he’s caught on with other superheroes before.
Garrison swings his head back to Maya. “Should I take thisheads upas you partially liking me?”
Maya wears a great poker face and then says something in Korean, knowing he can’t understand. She grips the door, about to leave.
“One day I’m going to learn Korean!” Garrison calls after her. “And then what are you going to do about it?”
She pops her head back in. “That’ll be the day.” She slips out, just as quickly. Then she pops her head in one more time. “Friendly reminder: I’m to report back to Loren if anything R-rated is happening in Willow’s room. I don’t like being a spy, so don’t make me be one.”
I go rigid. “We’rejust friends,” I emphasize for probably the millionth time to Maya, to Lily, to even Lo.
I haven’t even hugged Garrison. I don’t want to ruin what we have by turning it into something more. I can’t imagine…I can’t imagine losing his friendship.
Garrison nods in agreement. “She’s just my girl.”
I pale and then begin to smile impulsively. I hide it by busying myself with my hair.
Maya’s eyes dart between us again, but they land on me. “Be sure to lock up after you leave. A lot of bodies will be roaming the halls tonight.”
“I will.”
She gives me the Vulcan Salute, and I return it before she disappears for good this time.
Garrison sets down his controller, pausing the game one more time. He rises from the rug, and I situate a mirror on my mattress. When it’s settled, I remove my glasses, grab my eyeliner and mascara and tuck my legs under my butt.
I don’t wear much makeup, except for costumes.
Garrison paces in front of my bed, running his fingers through his brown hair. At least that’s what I think he’s doing. Without my glasses, he appears mostly blurry. I can’t see him all that well, and I’m debating about wearing contacts tonight. I don’t like them, but my character for Halloween doesn’t wear glasses like me.
“So…” Garrison draws the word out. “I have a question, and you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
I freeze, the mascara wand only halfway out of its tube. “What is it?”
“You know that questionnaire you made me take a month ago? I mean, you didn’tmake metake it. But you know…that one?”
How could I forget? It’s what kind of started our friendship. When he told me that he read mine, he only mentioned how he was surprised that I hadn’t traveled. He never explained his other feelings on it or if he had any.
And I didn’t ask.
Maybe because I never probed him about his own questionnaire.
About why his relationship status washiatus.
About what his tattoo looks like, the mysterious one over his right shoulder blade. He never takes off his shirt in front of me, so I’ve never spotted it.
Or what it meant when he answeredfallen for a friendas “sort of”—a two-word combination that he’s pointed out I use more than him.
We’ve both been sitting on these things. It’s been easier to live without the full meanings; though I realize we’re both curious about them. I’m just as interested in the reasoning behind the answer as much as Garrison.
It doesn’t mean I’m not scared to find out.
“Yeah?” I say, unsure of the direction he’s about to take us.
