Nothing.
When one isn’t forthcoming, Alan winces.
Still nothing.
He looks up, only to find Jim staring at him. The expression on Jim’s face is unreadable.
Anxious, Alan asks, “What are you thinking?”
“Did you put him up to this?” Jim wants to know.
“This…”
“This disappearance,” Jim explains. “Leaving the back door open, making it look like a break-in. This.”
“No! No.” Alan shakes his head to emphasize the point. “I swear. I’d never—”
“But you did.”
“No,” Alan says again. “I mean yes, the curfew thing, yes. But not this. To be honest, it was Brooks’ idea for me to ask you out. Then we started talking on the phone every night, and we really seemed to hit it off—”
“I thought we did,” Jim admits.
“So there’s no reason to keep it up. I was just trying to get your attention before.” Alan sighs. “Brooks was just trying to help.”
“Hmm.” Jim’s lips are pressed together in a thin slit. He’s still staring at Alan, his hand on Alan’s knee as if he forgot he put it there.