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puzzled than surprised. “You were?”
    I nod. “Yeah. It
was more out of convenience than a serious commitment, to be
honest. But he acted like it was a big step for us.” I roll my
eyes. “Apparently he was faking his affection for me to continue
their charade under my nose. We were going to meet with the
landlord to sign a new lease later this week.” I sigh and press my
face back into his shirt. His scent fills my nostrils, a mixture of
sweat and his shower gel. I relax, holding him closer, glad to have
something solid to hold on to.
    “ Now
what?”
    “ Now... I
don't know yet.” I really don't.
    He tilts my chin
up, his thumb wiping the tears off my face. “You okay now?”
    Nodding, I
say, “Yeah.” Somehow, it feels like a weight has been lifted
off my chest, even though there’s still so much to work out.
    “Alina? Can we be friends?”
    I laugh. “What do you mean?”
    “I mean just that. Can we be friends?”
    “Aren't we already?”
    “Kind of. But I want to be serious friends,
not just 'thrown together in the midst of a crazy situation and
then never see each other again' friends. Let's be friends. I think
we'd make great friends.”
    “Can two people who almost had sex in a
shower and drunkenly made out be friends?”
    “It works on television.”
    I laugh again. “Sure. I'd like to be friends
with you.”
    The corners of his lips curve up into a
smile. “Awesome. Now, where do we stand on dinner?”
     
     

 
     
    Chapter Six
    – Ryan –
     
    After saying
goodbye to her mother, Alina and I get in our cars and drive back
to my apartment. I stop at the taco place on the way and bring back
a dozen tacos. When we get inside, Alina takes one look at them and
says, “Good Lord, Mr. Hungry. How many are you planning on
eating?”
    “ However many
you don't eat,” I answer with a grin.
    She rolls her eyes.
“Typical.” She places two on her plate. “Don't think this means you
get to have the other ten. I might have one more.”
    “ I'll save it
for you.” We take our food to the living room and sit on the couch.
I turn on the TV. “Anything you want to watch? I have basic cable,
but I'm sure we could find something.”
    She shrugs.
“Doesn't really matter to me.”
    I scroll
until I find a Nash Bridges rerun. I
raise an eyebrow at her and she nods, so I leave it and start
eating. At the first commercial break, I hit the mute button and
turn to her. “So...if we're going to be friends, we need to know a
little more about each other.”
    “ Like
what?”
    “ Well, I know
your name is Alina Lyons. And you used to work at a diner. And you
were friends with Victoria since senior year in high school. But I
don't really know anything else.”
    “ So, are we
going to play twenty questions?” she asks, a smirk playing across
her lips.
    I make a funny face at her and smile.
“ No. Let's just go over some of the
basics.”
    She wipes her mouth
with a napkin and sets down her plate on the coffee table. “Okay,
I'll bite. What kind of basics?”
    “ Okay,
so Nash
Bridges —better or worse
than Miami
Vice ?”
    She giggles.
“Well, they both have Don Johnson, so that alone makes them tied. I
am partial to Nash Bridges , though.
I used to watch it with my dad and brother growing up.”
    Interesting.
A girl near my age who actually knows about sitcoms from the
eighties and nineties. I can't remember the last time I was able to
talk to someone outside my family who's familiar with shows that
didn't premiere in their teenage years. Most of my peers were more
interested in the latest X-Men movie or who was voted off
last night on American Idol . Not that I didn't care about “teenager” things, I just had a
broader spectrum of taste. “Well played...but,” I say, pausing to
hold up a finger, “you forgot to mention Yasmine
Bleeth.”
    “ I didn't
forget. I'm surprised that part matters to you when she doesn't run
in slow motion in a red bathing suit on Nash Bridges .”
    Not to
mention a