The airport was in the far northeast corner of Columbus, and even with the GPS, we still got turned around trying to find the right exit and had to hurry to get Jasper to the drop-off point on time. It was only when Conrad slammed the trunk after Jasper grabbed his stuff that it really hit me that I was about to be alone with Conrad. Days and days of alone. In the chaos of Jasper’s emergency and doing what needed to be done, I’d lost sight of the enormity of that reality. And judging by Conrad’s stunned expression, he had too.
Our eyes met. Held. Neither of us said a word. We were truly on our own now. No turning back.
Chapter Eleven
Conrad
It was only the two of us now. Two guys, one big, black monstrosity of a car, an increasingly optimistic itinerary, and a burning desire to make it to the convention on time. We weren’t doing this just for our own selfish reasons anymore. We were doing this for Professor Tuttle and Jasper both. The weight of that added to the little hitch in my pulse as we left Jasper at the airport and headed out on our own. Alden had been…impressive that morning, and he continued to be in all-business mode as he rearranged the contents of the trunk to make sure Jasper had all his stuff.
After the way he’d frozen when Professor Tuttle had been injured, I hadn’t expected much of Alden in an emergency. Hadn’t really expected him to be the sort of guy who could sympathize with a family crisis either. But not only had he stepped up with the credit card, he’d been good at locating flights and keeping us all on track to get Jasper to the airport on time. And he’d seemed to care, in a way that I hadn’t seen from him before. While he hadn’t been patting Jasper on the back or anything, the efficient way he’d packed him up and his little reminders to eat and such all showed a depth to Alden that I hadn’t seen before. It was more than a little humbling, realizing that maybe I’d prejudged him based solely on who he was playing the game.
“That was nice of you, man. You did Jasper a real solid,” I said as I slid back behind the steering wheel after Jasper had dashed into the terminal. Surprisingly, Alden hadn’t argued when I said I’d drive, instead installing himself and all his papers in the passenger seat.
“Like you said, he would have done it for us.” Alden’s neck flushed pink, and he looked away. Even though he seemed embarrassed by the praise, there was something…different about him now. Hard to pin it down, but it was a sort of confidence to his voice, a new level of firmness that made him seem more…real in a way he hadn’t previously.
“Yeah. He would have. He’s a good guy.” I followed all the signs back to the highway. The interchanges here were every bit as confusing as Philadelphia, and I’d set my GPS to get us back to I-70, but I still had to concentrate to not accidentally end up at the capitol or the university. Traffic was predictably heavy for a Monday morning, and our detour to take Jasper to the airport had put us right in the thick of rush hour.
“I didn’t know about his sister.” Alden sounded wistful. “He talks about his family all the time. Maybe I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Nah. Don’t beat yourself up. I only know because I had to crash with them a few days last year. She’s a cute kid—like fifteen or so now. I really hope she’s okay.”
“Crash? Were you guys…” Alden trailed off.
He’d been nice enough that morning that I tried to let his nosiness slide. Besides, something about his reflective tone made me soften mine.
“Dating? No. We’ve never been like that. He was with someone when I first got to Gracehaven, and after that, he was already in the friend zone. Didn’t want to screw with my access to his employee discount.” I laughed, but predictably, Alden didn’t. “Kidding. He’s a bro. Too good a friend to mess with only for a hookup. You know how it is.”
“Not really.” Alden drummed his fingers against the console. A quick glance his direction revealed that he was blushing again, a deep stain on his usually pale cheeks.
“What do you mean? You hook up with your friends? Or you don’t friend-zone people?”
“Not that it’s important, but I…uh…don’t hook up. With friends or otherwise.”
“You’re a virgin?” The question was out before I could call it back. In front of us, a school bus jockeyed for lane space with a semi, both creeping along with the clogged traffic. A nearby billboard advertised some sort of history museum, and I wished I could make my ill-thought-out question part of the past too.