Page 37 of Any Port in a Storm

“Yeah,” she breathes. “I think you’re right about that.”

“I like Sam. I really do. And I think…it’s just a healthier relationship for me, you know?”

She smiles then, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “As long as you’re happy, sweetheart. That’s all I care about.”

“You know, I think I am.”

Grace reaches out to pat my hand. “Good. Now, I’m headed out to do some necking of my own.”

“Gross.”

She laughs loudly. “Kidding. Roger and I are hitting a movie. I’ll see you later, hon.”

After she leaves, I plop down on the couch, my thoughts running rampant. I do like Sam. And I think maybe I could grow to love him. He makes everything so easy, because his interest in me feels uncomplicated.

Plus, he’s so busy with hockey that I can throw myself into my research, and it won’t matter. I don’t miss him when we’re not together, but I always have fun when we are. It feels like exactly the kind of low-stakes relationship that I need.

And even though I know perfectly well Grace is right—I am jealous—I don’t want to peel back the layers of those feelings right now. I’m not ready.

I’m not sure I ever will be.

ELEVEN

now

Five days after Nick moves in, the university figures out how to get the entire student body set up with Zoom accounts. “Thanks to this technology, we can return to normalcy—virtually,” their overly cheerful email claims.

In actual practice, switching to remote classes is a bit of a clusterfuck. Most students already went home to their families and aren’t checking email, while some who are still in the city lack reliable internet or are sharing limited bandwidth with roommates in off-campus housing.

I just have the one roommate these days, but he’s more than enough for me to handle. And I still can’t find my lecture notebook, which is throwing my already volatile mood into full-on grump territory.

Worse still, my apartment is not particularly conducive to two people working side-by-side. The living room has space for exactly one desk and one office chair. Nick offers to leave whenever I have to give a lecture, but there isn’t really anywhere for him to leave to.

The first day of remote learning, he decides to go out on the balcony with a book, then wait for me to signal that it’s safe for him to return. He looks like a zoo animal outside the sliding glass door, gesturing awkwardly to me, no matter how loudly I shout that it’s okay for him to come back inside.

During Nick’s lectures, I retreat to my bedroom and prep my next class on a sheet of loose-leaf paper I dug out of my nightstand. It’s nowhere near as good as my notebook, but nothing in my life is going according to plan right now, so I try to make the best of it.

On the third morning of this arrangement, Nick’s racing through the apartment, a mug of coffee in hand, a frazzled look on his face. “Have you seen my flash drive?”

I gulp down a mouthful of past-its-date yogurt and shake my head. We’re desperately in need of groceries, especially now that there are two of us plowing through my already meager food stash.

“Shit,” he grumbles, rifling through the papers he’s left all over my coffee table. “It has the presentation on it that I made for class today.”

I glance up at the clock on the microwave. “I’d help you, but I have to get logged on for my lecture.” At his pained expression, I tack on, “I’ll look with you after my class, okay?”

Now he just seems plain confused. “My class is right now.”

“Wait. What?”

He holds up his watch. “Yeah. 9:55. History of Modern Europe.”

I go cold. “9:55. Feminism in British Literature.”

“Oh.” Nick grabs his laptop off my desk, where I’ve already started getting set up. “Okay. Well, obviously, you can have your desk. I’ll just…” He looks wildly around the apartment. “Do you think your WiFi will work on the balcony?”

“It doesn’t typically. I’ve tried watching Netflix out there, but the signal strength is spotty at best.”

“Well, shit.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Can I…uh…” He glances nervously to his left. “Can I use your bedroom?”