The Devil & Me

Chapter Nineteen: Diabolic

That night, Cassius picked me up from work. It was late, late, almost one in the morning. When I entered the car, he was checking his watch, frowning. "Hey," I said. He reached over to kiss my cheek and I sighed into it. I set my backpack, with the journal that had left me shaky, in my lap and buckled myself in.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Like I always do after work," I said.

"If you're tired you can⁠⁠—"

"I'm not scaling back my hours, end of conversation, thank you."

It was his turn to sigh. He opened the window a crack to let in a stream of the cool air outside. It was a New England night, and the darkening sky reminded me that soon, we'd be drenched in cold.

"Can I pull in here," he said, nodding at a restaurant with its lights still on. "My fridge is empty."

"Oh, but I'm so tired."

"I'll buy you something."

I bit the inside of my cheek. "Okay."

He pulled in and I stepped out of the car, leaving my bag inside, but not before shoving it onto the floor, and pointing the zipper away from his eyes. I shut the door, and went to join him.

He took my hand as we entered, and we seated ourselves in a booth by the window. The smell of pepper and grease floated through the dining area, and my stomach began to rumble.

"I thought you were so tired," he said. His voice dripped with teasing.

"I am." My stomach rumbled again. A six hour shift could take a lot out of a person. "I'm just a little hungry too."

"Get whatever," he said. He looked around. "Waitstaff is gone. Tell me when you're ready and I'll go up to the register."

I scanned the menu. I could really get whatever. With someone else, I'd consider how much I was spending. But this was Cassius. I guess, at the very least, I could start using him more. He owed me that much.

I ended up getting seventy dollars of food, some for here and a lot for later.

When the food finally came, and I had my hands full of hot fries covered in salt and cajun pepper, Cassius began to talk.

"Are you thinking about college apps yet?"

"Mhm."

"Early actions are due in two months."

"I know. I have a list, and I think it's almost finished, I just have to check the programs the schools have a little more and think about the financial aid."

"What's your top school?"

"Duke."

His eyebrows rose and silence spread around us. I looked out the window and watched the red lights blink endlessly: in small towns like ours, the lights stopped working after one am because no one was on the road.

"Duke?" he asked.

"Duke, UCLA, Rice. Those are my top three."

"You don't want to stay in the Northeast?"

"No. I was thinking of applying to the schools in New York, but now New York is finished for me. And I wanted to be somewhere warm anyways." I stabbed my fork into a cut of steak that watered as it compressed. "I want to start over."

He cleared his throat and I felt the tightness of the situation in my chest. I knew he was going to stay in this part of the country, maybe his whole life. It's where his family was based, it's where they had had their house for generations. I, on the other hand, had nothing holding me down and I was determined to drift. That would mean we would break up, but didn't we both know that was coming? Couldn't we just enjoy what we had in the moment without thinking about the future?