Page 141 of Rhodes

"I mean it." He looks over now. "Thanks."

I nod once, and he turns back toward the street. The lie isn't in what I say. That's the worst part.

I don't tell him I haven't talked to Tallulah since April, or that she slept in my bed every night before everything fell apart. I don't tell him Italy changed everything, or that I was too much of a coward to admit it while he called from Spain and thanked me for being the one person he trusted with her.

She asked me not to tell him, so I hold onto that as the least I can do for her at this point. It would be easy to dress it up as honesty now. And it would be easier, still, to tell myself he deserves the truth.

But it isn't mine to give.

Coop taps his bottle against mine.

"To surviving college."

"Cheers."

We finish the beers and go inside before the mosquitoes carry us off.

Saturday starts late. Coop sleeps until ten, then complains about my coffee.

We meet Deuce and Nash for lunch near campus and spend two hours listening to Deuce explain why Loyola baseball is going to run the conference next spring despite the fact that he played his last game three weeks ago.

Deuce points a fry at Coop. “Good to have you back, Coop. Rhodes has been insufferable since his little domestic era ended.”

Coop snorts. “Domestic era?”

“You know. Roommate life. Cooking. Cleaning. Becoming a respectable citizen.”

I kick Deuce under the table.

“Ow, asshole.”

Ford looks up from his beer and meets my eyes. They both know. I'm sure Jo told Ford, and it went from there.

I’m suddenly very aware that Cooper is the only person at this table who has no idea what Deuce is actually joking about.

By three, Coop and I are back at the house. He drops onto the couch and kicks his shoes off.

"God, I've missed this city."

He pulls out his phone and starts scrolling. I go into the kitchen and open the refrigerator.

"Tilly and Jo signed their lease," he says.

My hand stops on the water pitcher.

"For fall?"

"Yeah. Place off Broadway, I think. Or maybe Pine. Somewhere over by campus."

I pour the water.

"Good for them."

"She's staying at Oak Moss most of the summer, though. Dad says she practically lives outside."

I close the refrigerator.

That's more than I've known in weeks. I don't ask anything else, and Coop keeps scrolling.