“I don’t feel as confident as you make me sound.”

“You love Seth. You don’t want to be exploited and disappointed. You need boundaries—friends are friends, not romantic partners, and when the line is blurred people get hurt and getting hurt is not a good agenda. Come on, Iris,” Grace said. “It’s only fair, what you want to say.”

“It’s only fair,” she agreed. “What if he doesn’t understand?”

“Iris, he doesn’t have to understand, he just has to comply. Tell him you want a boyfriend, not a boy who’s a friend. Tell him whatever you told Troy to get him to back off.”

“You know about that?” she asked Grace.

“I don’t know what I know. I mentioned that I thought Troy was still looking for a way to go out with you and he said that you put him straight, that you were just friends and he shouldn’t presume any more. So? I don’t know anything.”

“I did do that. And you know why this is harder? Because I really don’t love Troy. I mean, I like him a lot and I wish I could love him because he’s so great. But I don’t. With Seth it’s all confused.”

“Well, give it to him straight, the way you do so well. And don’t back down.”

* * *

The night was cold, but Iris didn’t care—she walked from Grace’s apartment. Even though her car was in her carport, the house was dark and it was obvious she wasn’t home. Yet Seth was parked right behind her car, sitting in his SUV, waiting. She walked right up to his window and tapped.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Waiting for you to get home,” he said.

“Why aren’t you at your mother’s house?”

“It would have been awkward,” he said. “Me sitting there expectantly, maybe peeking out the window to see if the light’s on yet, maybe texting you a lot. I didn’t really want to sit with my mother in front of the TV. I just wanted to see you.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Same reason I come to see you whenever I want to, because you’re more fun than my mother. And I brought wine.”

“I’ve had two glasses of wine,” she said.

“Good thing you don’t have to drive anywhere.” He let himself out of the car. “There could be a special on crafts on the shopping channel or something and that would have been torture. My mother enjoys explaining what we’re watching on TV. I was happier waiting in the car.”

“Seth, what are you doing coming over here every day?”

“Being cheerful, helpful and friendly,” he said.

“Oh, brother.” She shook her head. “Come in. Let’s get you a glass of wine.”

“Do you have a beer?”

“Why would you bring a bottle of wine if you want a beer?”

“Because you’ll want a glass of wine, maybe, and I’m accommodating.”

“What you are is confusing. Yes, I have beer. And you can have it while we have a serious talk.”

“Another one of those?”

“Just listen, then,” she said. She unlocked the house, opened the door and let him in. “Kitchen table,” she instructed. She gave him a beer and sat down at the table. Looking at him. He was smiling patiently. She loved his soft brown hair. He took a drink from his beer bottle. “Well?”

“Are you going to listen to me?”

“Of course, Iris. I always do.”

“All right, here’s the thing. It’s nice to be friendly again. I’m glad we sorted through our more serious issues and can be on good terms. We have a really complicated history, you and me. When I stop to think about it, the odds were against us patching things up. So this is good—we patched things up. But now we have to have some boundaries.”

“Whatever you say, Iris,” he said, tilting the bottle against his lips again.

“You can’t come over every night,” she said.

“Why not? You busy?”

“Most nights I bring work home.”

“I know. And most nights I work kind of late. Or I run or work out. But I’ll do what you want. We could have dinner before you do schoolwork or I could come over a little later. But we always have a lot to talk about, we have a good time.”

“Seth,” she said, leaning toward him, elbows on the table. “I can’t have this. I can’t have you here every day, being my buddy, my pal, getting me so used to having you around, relying on your company. Because you’re going to come over one night and tell me you met a great woman. And you’ll want me to meet her. You’ll want me to get a date so we can go out together. You’ll want to talk about her all the time and you’ll expect me to be so happy for you, that you found the right woman. And I’ll be alone again, just like before. I’ll be sitting in front of the home shopping network, reading through reports from school and you’ll be making love somewhere with the perfect woman. Don’t you get it, Seth?”

“I get it, but that’s not going to happen. I’m not a high school boy anymore.”

“Oh, underneath it all, you’re still that guy. But I’m not the girl you could count on to be a buddy anymore. See, I’d be disappointed. I’d feel kind of abandoned. I don’t need any more friends, Seth. I mean, in the friend department, I have Troy.”

“Troy seems nice. I guess that didn’t take?”

“He’s a friend! That means we see each other at work and maybe an evening a week, sometimes with other teachers. I don’t want it to be any more serious with Troy because I just don’t. It just isn’t there. I feel about Troy kind of the way you feel about me—like I love him madly except not in the right ways.”

“You think that’s how I feel? And you don’t want it to be any more serious with me?” he asked.

“I just don’t see that happening. And don’t misunderstand. I must admit I appreciate that you wanted to straighten out our situation, that you wanted to make amends and be friends again, friends like we used to be. We can do that, Seth. But you have to stop coming around all the time. I still have feelings for you. If you keep paying so much attention to me, I’m going to be broken. Oh, damn, that was hard to say. Don’t make me say that again.”

But Seth wasn’t listening. “You have feelings for me? What kind of feelings?”

“Right now I have feelings like I’d love to shove you in a hole! Don’t you hear what I’m saying? I had a big crush on you, all right? And you let me down. I know it was a long time ago and I know you’re sorry and I accept your apology, but all that being said I still don’t feel like going through it again. So we can be friends, all right? But not every damn day—it sets me up for a major letdown. And I want to be free! I’ll never find the right guy if you keep slogging up my brain like you do.”

“I do?”

“You do! You are not boyfriend material. You are pal qualified and that’s about all.”

He took another swallow of his beer. “That’s perfectly understandable, Iris,” he said. “I’ll be more careful about that.” He stood. “Thanks for the beer.” And then he let himself out the back door.