Page 31 of Any Port in a Storm

“Something fun while we’re locked in this 600-square-foot prison?”

“Excuse me,” I feign affront, “my apartment is 750 square feet, easily.”

He snorts. “My apologies. What did you have in mind?”

“Chess?”

A brow goes up. “You have a chess set in here?”

“Are you suggesting I’m not cultured enough for chess?”

Nick grins. “I wouldn’t dare suggest such a thing.”

I can’t fight a laugh. “Believe it or not, I have my grandpa’s old chess set. Some of his DVDs, too. If you’re in the mood to see Sean Connery as James Bond or a Rodgers and Hammerstein musical, I can hook you up.”

“Grandfathers are great for that sort of thing, huh?” His face falls suddenly. “Shit.”

“Are you thinking about your trip?”

He nods silently.

I do some quick math. “Spring break’s right at the end of our quarantine. You should be okay.”

A soft expression rushes in to replace his panic. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Well, you made me coffee,” I tease.

He shrugs. “Just being a good guest. But after…everything that happened.” There’s a long pause. “I’m not sure I deserve this.”

My mind races over what happened last July; last spring. It feels like a messy montage of best efforts and false starts; an emotional rumba routine that, ultimately, was not a crowd-pleaser.

“Don’t be silly,” I say after a minute. “We’re friends, right?”

He turns his eyes on me, and I have to rehash my own words to stop myself from falling into them. “We are.”

“Well, I know you’re kind of a reclusive academic,” I quip. “But this is what friends do.”

A smile starts. “They insult one another?”

“Well, yes. But they also help each other out.”

He inclines his head. “Right. Well, how can I help you?”

“I don’t need your help right now.”

“Okay. But, the way I see it, this gives you carte blanche to call in a favor. Anytime, anywhere.” He sticks out his hand. “Got it?”

“Deal,” I agree. His fingers are warm, and I don’t want to let go.

But opening that Pandora’s box isn’t the kind of help he’s offering.

“Excellent.” He looks a bit flushed, and I’m doing my best mental gymnastics to ignore it.

I suppose it is a little warm in here. I should lower the thermostat.

“Now, shall we play?”

“Play?”