“He didn’t do that much to help. Forget I mentioned it.” I waved her off, folding my arms over my chest. “He’s whatever.”
She laughed as she fanned herself with a notebook that had been on her desk. “You are such a liar! You like him!”
“I don’t hate him, but that doesn’t mean I like him,” I said.
She eyed me skeptically, my cheeks betraying me once again. Her face lit up.
“I’m hardly in like with him. I’m more in tolerate with him than anything else.”
She looked at me with a goofy grin.
“Oh my God. Stop it right now,” I warned. “He’s really not the nicest guy, so don’t even go there, and besides that, why are you always trying to set me up?”
“What do you mean? He convinced Clément to use your transmitter. How could someone like that not be the nicest guy? And I’m not always trying to set you up—you’re just so cute,” she said, changing her voice into a squeaky baby voice. “And I want you to be happy, and there are so many boys who want to date you!”
I rolled my eyes at her. “First of all, no. There is one boy who wants to date me: Cody. And the answer to that will always be Paris. Second of all, Hudson tells me to go to the tutoring center and get a tutor. I go there and he’s the friggin’ tutor!”
“Okay, that’s adorable,” Serena said, pointing at me with the camera.
“Not adorable,” I said, squinting at the tiny hook and eye I was trying to get in the exact right spot. “Then he told the tutoring center secretary that I had a hearing issue and requested some special super-quiet room because of it. Basically telling her I have a disability.”
“Well, that’s shitty,” she said. “But also thoughtful. I mean, if he knew you needed quiet, then it only makes sense he would have asked for the quiet room, right?”
“Why are you on his side right now?”
“I’m not,” she said as she pressed her hand to her chest. “I’m on your side. I said it was shitty for him to imply to a complete stranger that you have a disability, but it was for the greater good. It’s for Paris.”
“Yes. Because I’m sure Wesley Hudson always has the greater good in mind when he does things.”
“You’re being a cynic.” Serena shrugged. “Maybe he does and you’re just not willing to give him a chance. Ever think of that?”
Serena blinked at me rapidly, purposefully, waiting for an answer, but there wasn’t one and she knew it.
“Well, it doesn’t matter. I don’t need him anyway. I have the transmitter. I have my flash cards. I’m good to go.”
“You look about as sure of that as you do about my current outfit.” She gestured at her polar-bear pants.
I pursed my lips, trying not to laugh.
* * *
My phone vibrated in my pocket as I sat in Textiles in Today’s Economy.
HUDSON: la historia de Puerto Rico es tan aburrido me podría morir
I typed a message back stating that I was in class and to not bother me, but then erased it before setting my phone on the desk next to my laptop. I hated when people texted me to say they couldn’t text. Like, why text me back at all if you can’t text me back?
My phone vibrated against my desk again, and I scooped it up. Dr. Crouse shot me a look over her glasses before refocusing on her computer. She was showing a video on textile mills from the industrial revolution.
HUDSON: Are we still on for Wednesday?
I stared at the text. We were never on for Wednesday to begin with. How could we still be on for something I never agreed to? I typed a message back, but erased it before dropping the phone onto my lap. The phone vibrated, the sound muffled by my thighs.
HUDSON: I just want to see what you are using to study.
I shifted in my seat, taking in a deep breath and holding it for a moment.
ME: Omg. I’m in class. Stop texting me.
I released the breath as I hit the send button.
It vibrated almost immediately.
HUDSON: You shouldn’t be texting in class.
I wanted to be mad, but I couldn’t. I could picture his face as he typed those words. I could picture the quirk of his smile. I could picture him laughing at his own joke.
ME: I thought I made it pretty clear that I didn’t want you as a tutor.
I read the text twice before deciding to send it. What was the worst that could happen? It was pretty rude, but oh well. I knew what I wanted, and he wasn’t it. He clearly did not understand the art of subtlety, and that was on him, not me.
The video showed a giant machine, whirling and cranking a large sheet of fabric through it. The voice-over talked about the mechanics of the machine and the economic benefits of using an assembly line over individual weavers. I loved this stuff. The manufacturing of fabric was so interesting to me. How it’s made and by whom. What happens to it afterward. I was a fabric junkie.
I glanced at my computer, the talk-to-text program translating every word into a document. It wasn’t always 100 percent accurate, but it was better than nothing. I looked up at the movie and then back down at the computer screen. I couldn’t pay attention. Why hadn’t he responded? Had I been too blunt?
I opened the text box just as the phone vibrated again.
HUDSON: You did, but meh.
HUDSON: Let’s try it anyway. We can meet wherever you want. It doesn’t have to be the quietest room on campus … it was such a ridiculous idea. I apologize for even suggesting it. I must have been out of my mind to think it could be helpful.
ME: Sarcasm much?
HUDSON: Sarcasm very much.
I smiled at my phone as the lights in the lecture room came on.
9
Gorgeous & Alone Seeking: No One. She Wants To Be Alone.
Ten minutes early? Check. Transmitter turned on? Check. Dr. Clément? Um, no check.
I stood at the front of the classroom as people started to wander in, waiting. I tapped my foot. Crossed my arms. Huffed. I played with my hickory-colored cashmere scarf, shifting it in repetition left and right against my neck. It was so super soft, and it calmed me to feel it against my skin. I tugged at my cardigan, pulling my hands into the sleeves. Played with the hem of my army green belted tunic.
I was sweating in places I didn’t want to be sweating. My palms, the backs of my knees. I rubbed the back of my neck. I set the transmitter on the podium as he walked into the room.
“It’s on the podium,” I said, passing him on the stairs.
Not stopping, he asked, “What is on the podium?”
I looked at him with wide eyes. “The transmitter,” I said.
“Ah, yes. Oui, oui, oui.” He nodded as he picked up the device and put it over his head.
Okay, well at least he was wearing it. This was a start. This was a good start.
Hudson walked into the classroom as I turned on the earpiece, covering it as best I could with my hair. He scanned the room as he set his bag down on the table near Clément’s podium. He mouthed hey and gave me a small wave. I gave him a small wave back. He looked adorable in that navy-and-red-plaid button-down.
I was looking at my notebook, flipping to the next empty page, when I heard the rustle of the transmitter against Clément’s shirt. Okay, here we go.
“Bonjour?”
My head shot up as I ripped the earpiece from my ear; his booming voice came through way too loud and way too clear. He was holding the transmitter to his mouth like a microphone.
“Today’s lesson will be—”
Hudson jumped up to gently take the transmitter from Clément’s hand and rest it against his chest.
“Oh. Right.” Clément looked at me and then back to Hudson.
Oh. My. God. I sank into my chair, wanting to crawl out of my skin. Paris. Paris. Paris. A few people seated nearby looked in my direction, silently questioning what was going on.
“Bon, on y va!” Dr. Clément said, the transmitter safely against his chest, moving forward like nothing had happened.
I waited until I was sure no one was watching before I slipped the earpiece back onto my ear. I looked up at Hudson as I patted my hair over it. He bit his bottom lip as he watched me, his knee bouncing under the table.
It was distracting, but all I could do was stare back until he looked away. What was he doing? Why was he watching me like that? Even with Dr. Clément in my ear I still couldn’t concentrate on the lecture.
* * *
The campus center was almost always packed. Clubs met there. Student government met there. There was a theater on the second floor and a cafeteria on the other side of the wall from where we sat. A near-constant stream of people went up and down the stairs, either up to the club offices on the second floor or down to the professors’ offices in the basement.
“I can’t concentrate here,” I whispered to Serena, pulling her attention away from Michael, boyfriend/volleyball teammate. “And I really need to study for this French quiz. I bombed the last one. Like, seriously bombed it.”
The three of us met twice a week for lunch, and sometimes we could get a smidge of work done if Serena and Michael weren’t arguing. Or if Terrance didn’t stroll over and steamroll the conversation. Or if Cody with the Cheekbones didn’t show up and completely distract me from the world.
“Are you sure you don’t want that tutor after all?” Serena asked as she chewed her bagel, raising her eyebrows suggestively.
“I’m sure.” I closed my eyes, letting my head fall back against the overstuffed chair in which I was seated.
“What’s wrong with you?” Michael said. “What’s wrong with her?” he asked Serena when I didn’t immediately reply.
“She’s just tired of being gorgeous and alone. It’s all finally weighing on her,” Serena said, diverting from the actual issue.
“Dude, I have so many friends who would hook up with you in a second,” Michael said. “All you have to do is say the word.… Actually, there was this guy asking about you the other day and—”
“Oh my God, Michael.” I lifted my head. “She was joking.”
He looked to Serena, who nodded in confirmation. “Edie just needs to study somewhere less distracting. Like, pretty much any place you aren’t.” She tossed a balled-up napkin at him.
Michael pressed his hand to his chest. “That hurts, Edie. That really hurts.”
I shook my head. “You know how much I tolerate you, Michael,” I said with a sweet smile. “I really tolerate you a lot.”
“She does. She talks about how much she tolerates you all the time.”
Michael rolled his eyes. “You two are the worst.”
I looked at Serena, and we both shrugged in agreement.
“Honesty is the best policy,” I said, beginning to gather my books.
“Well then, honestly, you better go, because Cody has his eyes on you and is on his way over here right now.” Serena rested her face in her hand, obscuring her face from Cody as she stuck her tongue out at me.
“Hey!” Cody with the Cheekbones said, a wave and a smile directed at only me.
“Hey,” I said, standing and shoving everything I owned into my bag. “I was actually just about to leave.”
“Oh, really?” His shoulders slumped forward.
“Yeah, sorry—”
Michael turned to Serena, his eyes flashing. “But weren’t you literally just saying that Edie wanted to find a man and was all sad and shit about being alone?”
Serena’s hand slapped Michael’s arm at the same time I let out a quick okay, time to leave.
“You’re an idiot,” Serena said, looking to me and then Cody. “Don’t listen to him. He has no manners.”
I looked at Cody. I could see it written all over his face. I liked him. I really did, but it wasn’t the right time. And even after a dozen conversations, he still didn’t understand that being in a relationship right now wasn’t what I wanted. That being in a long-distance relationship was absolutely not something I wanted.
“I’m sorry,” I said with a sigh. “I really do have to go.”
10
You Can’t Just Go Around Googling Everyone
A five-minute walk separated me and my bed. In just five short minutes I would be in sweatpants and a hoodie, clothes reserved strictly for self-loathing because I’d just hurt Cody again and I felt like crap. In five minutes I would be in my bed, wallowing in pity and lying on my French textbook, hoping to absorb it by osmosis. In five … four minutes I would be watching reruns of Project Runway and probably eating Teddy Grahams. In four minutes I would—
“Hey, it’s you.”
I looked toward the voice. It was Hudson, walking my way.
“Uh, hey,” I said as he and two guys I didn’t know approached me.
“Edie, right?” Hudson’s thumbs were hooked on the straps of his backpack as he pointed at me with both index fingers.
“Yup,” I said with a pop, looking from Hudson to his friends and then back. What was going on right now? He knew my name. Why was he acting like we didn’t just have class together an hour ago? And that he wasn’t trying to be my French tutor.
“Sorry, you’re—” I asked, because two could play at this game.
“Hudson.” He nodded as his friends shot each other glances. “This is Tom and that’s Sal.”
His friends nodded at me in acknowledgment.
“Uh, so I was just…” I pointed past them toward my building.
“Yeah, okay,” Hudson said as he looked at the ground and then back up at me. Tom, the tall guy with curly brown hair, stepped to the side to let me pass.
“Um, nice seeing you,” I said over my shoulder as I began to walk away.
“Hey, uh, wait a sec,” he called. I turned to see him wave off his friends and jog toward me.
“Can I walk with you?” he asked.
I kicked at the grass that edged along the sidewalk. “Yeah, I guess.” I would have to thank my mother for raising me to be so damn polite.
“So, Clément. He’s something else, right?” he started as soon as we began to walk.
Small talk? No. I don’t think so.
“Why did you just act like you didn’t know me?” I blurted.
There was a brief pause. A painful moment of silence that felt like an eternity.
“I don’t know. It just came out,” he said with a careless shrug.
“But you know who I am, I mean…” I didn’t know what else to say. I pulled my hands into the sleeves of my jacket and crossed my arms. “The tutoring center? The texts from yesterday? Literally an hour ago from class … Any of this ringing a bell?” I asked.
“Don’t look into it too much.” He waved me off with a smile.
If I had to bet, I would say that his smile got him out of a lot of situations growing up.
I narrowed my eyes. What was this game he was playing? One minute he’s blabbing my business all over the tutoring center and the next he’s swooping in to help me with Clément and just now he acted like he didn’t know me.
“What?” he asked with a laugh, pulling his shoulders into an exaggerated shrug.
“You,” I said. There wasn’t much else I could say. It was just him. That was it.
“I’m weird, okay?” He laughed as the corners of his eyes wrinkled. He held his hands up, palms facing me in surrender. “It helps if you don’t put too much stock into the things I say sometimes.”
“Fine, I won’t put any stock into anything you say,” I acquiesced with an eye roll, shoving him lightly with my shoulder as we walked. “So, Clément, he’s something else, huh?” I asked, repeating his question.
“Hey, do you like bowling?” he asked.
“I do not,” I said, rolling with his change in conversation.
“What? Why?” He turned toward me as we walked.
“I just don’t,” I said defensively. “It’s not something I’m good at, and the shoes are awful. I refuse to wear the shoes.”
Hudson’s arms shot into the air. “The shoes ar
e literally the best part!”
I stopped. “Please tell me you’re messing with me.”
He crossed his heart with his finger. “I swear to you that I am telling you the truth when I say that I think the shoes are the best part of bowling.”
I raised my eyebrows as a bubbling laugh erupted. “I can’t even with you right now.” I put my hand up to him and started walking again. We were close to my building. Close to my plan of wallowing in pity and learning through osmosis.
“Well, maybe I can’t even with you right now,” he said in the same tone.
We looked at each other for a moment. It wasn’t awkward, it was familiar. Too familiar.
“Well, this is me,” I said, stepping onto the first stair leading up to the front doors of my dorm as Hudson remained on the sidewalk.
“I googled your disability,” he said, as if he’d been meaning to say it all along.
“You did what?” I asked, pulling back in shock.
He hooked his thumbs onto his bag straps, his eyes on the ground.
“Yeah, I mean, you never actually told me what your disability was, so I researched it.”
My mind spun. “That is so intrusive, Hudson.” I took another step. “Why are you telling me this?” I asked, feeling exposed as the information settled around us. Feeling a lot like history was repeating itself.
He shrugged and squinted up at my dorm again. “I don’t know. I wanted to help you. I just thought…” He trailed off with a shrug.
“You just thought it would help if you knew what you were up against with me?” I asked, trying not to sound like an asshole, even if he did deserve it.
“Yeah. I mean, no,” he said, kicking at the ground. “Listen, I could see how talking about this with Clément could have been hard for you. I know that asking for help isn’t easy … for anyone,” he added quickly. “And I wanted to be able to help you.”
“I really don’t know how to react to this,” I said, unsure of what else to say. “Why did you tell the secretary that I had a hearing problem?”
“I didn’t do that,” he said, his face contorting as he looked at me.
“Yeah. You told Makenna in the tutoring center that I had a hearing problem.” I pulled my arms in tighter across my chest, grasping my elbows.
Meet Me in Outer Space Page 5
