Finally. I’d been waiting so long to do that.
“How long do I want to be alone with you?”
I nodded.
“Forever, of course.”
“I really want to kiss you right now, but that was the corniest thing you could have said.” I searched his face as his eyes closed and another yawn escaped.
“Being corny is one of my many talents,” he said.
“I’d love to see more of your”—I cleared my throat—“talents, but after that joke, I don’t know, you might be too corny for me.” I brought his hand to my mouth, pressing my lips into his knuckles.
He closed his eyes and shook his head. “No. I can’t have this back-and-forth. Either we can touch each other or we can’t. You’re saying no, but you’re acting yes.”
I dropped his hand, my face turning into a frown. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, just be honest.” He pulled my hand into his lap. “Because I don’t want this whole will-they-won’t-they thing. The whole we can’t be together because I’m leaving and blah, blah, blah. Either you’re in or you’re out.”
I sighed.
“Listen, this isn’t do or die. How much trouble could we get into? Let’s just do what feels right and figure it out later.…”
“But still…,” I said with no intention of finishing the thought.
“But still what? You want to keep it strictly business. I don’t like that, but fine. We can keep it strictly business. I just can’t have it both ways.” He shook his head, his eyes drifting to his lap, his voice faltering slightly. “I can’t do it.”
When I didn’t respond right away, he looked up at me. My eyes were already on him, searching for the right answer.
“Can you just kiss me, and we’ll overanalyze it later?” he asked, his words so soft that I would have missed them had I not been looking at his face.
I bit the inside of my cheek. “I can,” I whispered as I leaned into him. He held my face in both hands, his thumb grazing my bottom lip as he moved closer.
“So, how do you like outer space?” he asked, his breath hot on my face. “It’s nice this time of year, right?”
“It’s perfect this time of year,” I whispered as my lips brushed his.
“Perfect for second and third kisses?” he asked, pressing his lips to my jawline.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” I smiled against his lips. “But, yes, to both.”
22
It’s Called Science, Duh
ME: Can we study for the quiz?
I was in the lab on a Saturday, which was not a Friday night, and I was feeling overwhelmed for more than one reason. It felt instinctual to text Hudson. We didn’t need to study, but I wanted to see him.
I set my phone down as I continued to pin the pleats of the bubble skirt I was working on. Beautiful deep purple with a wide waistband made of a cotton blend. It was the perfect summer day skirt, not too billowing, but full and bouncy.
I checked my phone again. Nothing.
ME: I’m about to take your silence as a “yes, of course we can study” if you don’t text me back in 5 seconds.
ME: 4
ME: 3
ME: 2
My phone vibrated in my hand. I smiled as I saw his name pop up.
HUDSON: Sorry. Migraine. Out of commission.
Oh. Oops.
ME: Is there anything I can do to help?
I cringed as I hit send. I didn’t want to text him again—obviously he was not feeling well—but I couldn’t just let him suffer alone.
I held my phone as I waited for a response, quickly researching migraines. All I knew was what my mother used to do.
My phone vibrated.
HUDSON: I hear migraines don’t exist in outer space.
HUDSON: Book me a flight on the next trip.
* * *
The following items were accompanying me to Hudson’s dorm room: one gel eye mask, one nighttime eye mask, one break-and-shake ice pack, one heating pad, two bananas, one Pepsi and one Coke, three bottles of water, peppermint-scented face cream, a dozen or so glow-in-the-dark stars, and my lavender-scented pillow.
I hesitated as I stood at his door, the strange collection of pictures staring me down. I took a deep breath and then knocked lightly.
I pushed onto my toes and rocked back on my heels as I waited. No answer. I knocked again, a little harder this time. I brought my index finger to my mouth, my nail touching my teeth, wanting so badly to bite it.
Nothing.
I knocked again one last time; if he didn’t respond, I would leave.
“Hudson,” I whispered through the heavy door as best I could. “It’s me, Edie.”
I heard a muffled rustling, a sneeze, a painful groan, and then the click of the door unlocking. Hudson squinted at me through a crack in the door.
“I, um.” I stumbled over my words. He looked awful. “I’m here to help.” I grasped the strap of my shoulder bag, motioning to it with my chin, trying to convey my bag of, hopefully, helpful remedies.
He closed his eyes, his right hand coming to his temples as he rubbed them both, thumb and index finger. He nodded before stepping away from the door and into the room.
I waited a second, one brief moment where I wondered if I really should have come over. If anything I brought would even help.
A groan came from in the room. “Are you coming?” Hudson moaned as the springs on his bed squeaked.
I stepped into the room, squeezing through the crack of the door, trying to keep the hall lights from spilling into his room. I shut it behind me, my back pressed to the door as I hesitated.
“I looked up some stuff about migraines, and I brought a few things that might help,” I whispered, or I spoke in as close to a whisper as I could. I moved farther into the room, only the glow from his laptop’s power cord and his roommate’s alarm clock lighting my way. “Can I help?” I asked as I stood at the head of his bed.
“You can try,” he said.
“You might have to move around a little,” I said as I began to unpack my tote. “Is that okay?”
He sighed deeply, punctuating it with a groan. He was lying on his back, his fingers pressed into his eyes and his face in a grimace. He was in sweatpants and a beat-up hoodie with a football team logo across the chest.
“I’m going to need you to take your hoodie off,” I said, grabbing the peppermint lotion. I’d read that the smell of peppermint can ease a migraine, and when I called my mom for advice, she said she used to rub it onto her chest, like vapor rub for congestion.
“Edie,” Hudson breathed, his fingers working in a circular motion on his eyes. “My head is literally killing me right now, but if you want me to remove my hoodie so that we can make out, I will.” A hint of a smile perked his left cheek.
I rolled my eyes at him even though I knew he couldn’t see me. He moved slowly. I reached to help him sit up, but he was seated before I could. He dragged off his hoodie, holding it out to me but dropping it to the floor before I could catch it.
“Okay, lie back down but keep your head off the pillow,” I said as I waited for him to move. I slid the tube-shaped pillow between his neck and the bed. “Is that comfortable?”
He adjusted it before confirming. “Smells like you,” he murmured.
“It’s actually lavender-scented. I use it when I’m stressed out, but, like, I heard it works for migraines, too,” I said.
He brought his fingers to his eyes again. “It’s definitely Edie scented,” he said.
“Here,” I said. “Lift your head one more time.” I stretched the nighttime eye mask as he lifted his head. I slipped it over his eyes, carefully releasing the elastic in hopes that the pressure wouldn’t make the pain any worse.
He adjusted the eye mask against his face. “Please tell me these aren’t feathers I’m feeling,” he said with a smile as he pulled lightly at the mask. His hair was everywhere, sticking out around the elastic band in some places and flattened in
others.
They were feathers. Bright pink and yellow feathers to be exact, along with the word DIVA written across the mask in rhinestones.
“Nope, no feathers. Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Okay, fine.” He rested his hands at his sides. “What’s next?”
The next step was the peppermint lotion, but rubbing it on his chest …
“I’m, um, I’m gonna rub something on your chest…,” I said. “Is that … would that be okay?”
Hudson lifted his T-shirt without a word.
I warmed the lotion in my hands before lightly pressing my fingers into his collarbone.
He hummed softly as I rubbed it in.
“It’s peppermint. My mom said it helps.”
“This is really weird, but also kinda kinky,” he said. “The face mask, the lotion … Please, please tell me you have some handcuffs in that bag,” he added drily, though I could hear the smile in his voice.
“Wesley Hudson, if you weren’t in so much pain already, I would hurt you.”
He laughed again, strained as I rubbed the last bit of lotion into his skin. I pulled his shirt back down as I spoke. “Okay, so I have to turn the light on, but just keep that mask on and it won’t let any light in,” I said, taking a step back from the bed.
“I almost don’t want to know what’s coming next.”
I shushed him as I flipped the switch near the door. His room was a wreck. Clothes everywhere. His notebooks spread across his desk as if dumped in a hurry. His backpack sat upside down with the contents spilling out. It was the opposite of the last time I’d been here.
I bent down to pick up his bag, shoving papers and a folder back into it as I lifted it onto his desk chair. A packet of papers sat on his closed laptop; several sentences were highlighted in bright yellow and a blue Post-it sat just under the highlighted section.
“In a case in which a Teaching Assistant has a personal relationship with a student (i.e., family relation, romantic, friendship, etc.), it is advised that the Teaching Assistant disclose the relationship to the overseeing professor. Based on the role of the Teaching Assistant, the professor has the authority to make a decision regarding the ethics of said relationship.”
The Post-it had a few words scribbled on it in quotes: “I don’t care what you do, Hudson. The French are not a people who will stand in the way of love.” I smiled at the note. He must have spoken to Clément. Why was I not surprised that Clément didn’t care one bit … or that he was the type of guy who would speak for an entire country of people?
I set the paper down, my stomach tightening as I peeked at Hudson before getting to work on the next step of my plan.
“Almost done?” he asked after a minute of quiet.
I looked over at him as I affixed the last plastic star to the wall. He was still on his back, the lavender pillow under his neck, the DIVA face mask covering his eyes. He looked kind of ridiculous, but he also looked like he was feeling better. His voice sounded better, at least.
I didn’t say anything as I walked across the room, running a finger up his bare arm as I passed him. He pulled it away out of instinct, laughing and rubbing it with his other hand. “Goose bumps,” he whined.
I flipped the switch, returning the room to its original darkness except for the glow-in-the-dark stars. I smiled at them. At Hudson lying unaware. At how good it felt to be with him.
“I’m going to replace this mask with a different one, okay? But just keep your eyes closed.” I leaned over him as I slipped off the DIVA mask, my hair running lightly across his face. Before I could set it aside, his hand slipped into my hair, cupping my head.
I pressed a hand to his chest. “Let me put the other mask on you, okay?”
He massaged his fingertips into my scalp. “Quickly.”
I slipped the gel mask over his head, adjusting it over his nose and around his eyes. “Is that okay?”
“Does this one have feathers?” he asked, touching it with the hand that had been holding my head.
“Nope, none,” I whispered. I pressed my hand to his chest again as I pushed to stand.
He wrapped his hand around my upper arm, pulling me back to him. “Lie with me,” he whispered, his eyes still closed. He scrunched his forehead, releasing a pained breath.
“I have some other things for you, like I brought some water and a couple sodas for the caffeine.… I wasn’t sure if you liked Coke or Pepsi, so I brought both, and—”
His hand moved from my arm to the back of my head, pulling me into a kiss.
“But—” I said against his lips as I tried to pull away, wanting to kiss him, but also wanting to finish my treatment plan.
“Edie,” he said, his lips still against mine. “Just lie down with me.”
I kissed him once before carefully climbing over him, lying on my side between him and the wall; his arm was outstretched for me. Once I settled he wrapped it around me, pulling me in. I rested my cheek on his chest, breathing in the lavender and peppermint. Breathing him in as well.
“You can open your eyes,” I said, looking at the stars on the wall at our feet.
“I don’t want to,” he said with a small grunt. “It hurts to open them.”
I sighed. I should have known better. Oh, well, he’d see the stars another time.
“Outer space,” he whispered.
I lifted my chin to see that he’d lifted his mask.
“You did this?” he asked.
“Did what?” I asked. I pressed my lips to his jawline.
“You put the stars up?” He rested his palm against my cheek, holding my head to his chest.
“Don’t be ridiculous, we’re in outer space. I didn’t put the stars in the sky. Don’t you know anything about science?” I teased.
“So then what would science call this particular constellation?” he asked, slowly lifting his other arm, waving to the wall of stars.
The stars were arranged in a giant high heel shoe. The points angled to convey a stiletto. It was a pretty damn good depiction, if I did say so myself.
“La Stiletto, named for the Greek goddess of fashion, obviously.” I waved my hand toward the wall as well.
“Look at you, mixing French and Italian like a pro,” he said with a laugh and then a pained cough.
I tilted my head to look at him. “Are you feeling any better?” I asked. “Like, on a scale of one to exploding head?”
He moved ever so slightly to look into my eyes. “On a scale of one to exploding head I’m at a six,” he said with a wince as he kissed my forehead. “What did the orange say to the juice box?”
I opened my mouth to respond, but closed it.
“I can’t concentrate when you’re around,” he said with another laugh and pained cough.
“You need to stop laughing,” I said, pursing my lips to contain a smile. “Especially at your own jokes.” I poked him lightly in the side.
“But laughter is the best medicine,” he said, shying away from another poke.
23
Sometimes I Just Like to Smile at My Notebook, NBD
“You look really pretty today.”
I looked up at Hudson, shaking my head. My cheeks were on fire, and I didn’t even try to hide it. Class hadn’t started yet, and he was already abusing the transmitter.
“You do.”
I looked at him with wide eyes. These weren’t walkie-talkies, so I couldn’t talk back. He looked really good today, too. I raised an eyebrow as I looked him up and down, making sure he knew I was checking him out.
I looked him up and down again.
His laugh came through, and I smiled in response.
“Keep that up and I’ll announce to the whole class how pretty I think you look today,” he whispered, his back to the room as he wrote on the whiteboard. Adjectives. “And maybe I’ll tell them about our trips to outer space.”
I pressed my lips together as I smiled at my notebook. The room was beginning to fill, and with the hea
t on full blast I was dying with my hair down. I hesitated, fumbling with the hair tie I kept on my key ring. I didn’t want to put my hair up; one, because it wasn’t part of the look I was going for today and two, because of my earpiece.
I closed my eyes, willing myself to just do it. To just put my hair up and not care if people saw the earpiece. Why was I so concerned about what other people would think? Why did I care so much? Almost twenty years old and I was still the thirteen-year-old afraid to let anyone see me.
Screw it. It had to go up.
“Hey.”
I looked up as I pulled my hair into a low ponytail. Our eyes locked.
“You look great.”
I watched as he wrote on the board. Content. Drôle. Beau. Talentueux. Doué. Mignonne.
Happy. Funny. Beautiful. Talented. Gifted. Cute.
My eyes were trained on his every movement. Now I couldn’t look away if I wanted to. Screw the earpiece; just having Hudson as a teacher was helping me focus more than any assistive technology had.
“Stop looking at my butt,” his words came through in a whisper, his back still to the room.
A burst of laughter escaped, loud and obvious. I slapped my hand over my mouth, eyeing the people around me who stiffened at my outburst. The girl in front of me even turned around. I mouthed sorry to her with a shrug, and when I looked up, Hudson was looking at me with that smirk that made me question whether to kiss him or kill him.
* * *
“You need to stop,” I said, my hand open, waiting for my transmitter.
It was the end of class. I stood near the back of the room waiting for everyone to leave and for him to pack up. The rest of the lecture had gone on without any more outbursts, thankfully, but I could still feel the heat in my cheeks.
“I didn’t do anything,” he said, feigning innocence. He slid his hand into mine instead of handing over the receiver.
“Not in class,” I whispered, pulling away from him.
“No one is here,” he said as he stretched his arms wide.
I opened my hand to him again, and this time he set the device in it.
“You’re abusing this privilege,” I scolded.
Meet Me in Outer Space Page 11
