He grinned. “I know.”
She laughed. “Jerk.”
“What about you? Read minds or fly?”
“Read minds.” Her eyes met his again. “Especially yours.”
He was glad as hell that wasn’t possible. If she knew what he was thinking every time they were together, she’d probably run for the hills.
He shook his head as if she were crazy. “You don’t want to know what’s going on in here.” He tapped his temple with his index finger. “It’s a lot of design details. Planning my next climbing trip. Some guilt and a lot of what-ifs.”
He wasn’t sure why he said that last part. It just sort of came out, and her expression turned downcast, and a little sad. She glanced at the console table behind them, to the frame he knew contained an image of him and his late brother. In the photo they were eight and ten, sitting on the edge of the tree house in the backyard of their childhood home. Even though Nathan had been two years older, Noah had always been big for his age, and they could have passed for twins, if it weren’t for the hair. When meeting new people it was always Noah’s ginger coloring that grabbed people’s eye first, but it had been Nathan’s outgoing personality that captured their attention.
Noah had liked it that way.
As if she sensed he didn’t want to pursue that topic, Mia surveyed the table and pointed at the two pieces left on his plate. “You gonna finish that?”
“Nah, I’m done.”
“I’ll take the rest to Claire.” She slid the wings into the container where she had three pieces remaining.
Claire, the third member of their childhood trio from the street where they’d all grown up, was the polar opposite of Mia. She’d joined the crew last—moving into a house across the street from Mia’s and Noah’s—and had brought a new level of excitement to the group. Where Mia and Noah had been pretty straitlaced, Claire added a layer of mischief that hadn’t faded as they’d gotten older.
“What’s she up to tonight?”
“Working. She won’t be home until late, but she likes a snack when she comes in.”
“What about the new girl?”
“Reagan? She’s a vegetarian. I met her at that vegan grocery store in Capitol Hill, remember?”
“That’s right. I was shocked as hell when Claire told me.”
Mia tilted her head curiously. “That I picked up a new roommate in the kombucha aisle?”
He grinned. “No, I stopped being surprised at your ability to make friends with anyone who breathes a long time ago. I mean that you, the girl who loves meat and cheese more than anyone I know, were shopping at a vegan store.”
She shrugged. “I wanted to try making vegan cupcakes. It’s harder than it sounds.”
“Doubtful, since it sounds impossible.” Mia was constantly experimenting in the kitchen, something Noah often benefited from. Ever since putting her nutrition degree on hold, she said baking was her outlet to keep that passion present in some facet of her life. “How’d they turn out?”
“Terrible.” She grinned and stood, clearing the empty food containers from the table. She took everything to the kitchen, then came back to the living room and resumed her seat. She let out a heavy sigh. “So, I have something I want to talk to you about. I need advice.”
“Okay.”
She rubbed her hands along her thighs and didn’t meet his eyes, almost as if she were embarrassed by what she was about to say.
“Don’t laugh, but I sort of applied for a college scholarship.”
He blinked. “Why would I laugh at that?”
She scrunched her nose. “I don’t know. It’s like, a second chance scholarship. For adults who either didn’t go to college right away, or who started and didn’t finish their degree for one reason or another. Basically, it’s for duds and dropouts like me,” she said with a self-deprecating smile.
He didn’t find it humorous. “You’re not a dud or a dropout. You got sick and needed to focus on your health.”
She gave him a soft smile. “I know. But still.”
“Let me guess. You got it?”