“I will jot down what you need to study based off the midterm, and we will study from that, okay?”
“I mean, yeah, I guess that would work, but I still would want to see my test, you know, just to see what exactly I did wrong and—”
“You wanna go on a date?” he asked.
I paused. “A date, as in, do something other than snuggle, and study sometimes?” I feigned surprise.
He clasped his hands together behind his head again. “Yup.”
“With you?” I asked.
“No, with that guy.” He unclasped his hands to motion toward a scraggly haired older man sitting two tables away.
I smiled as I flipped through my flash cards again. “You’re an idiot.”
“An idiot who you’ll go on a third date with?”
“Third date? When did we even have a first date?” I argued, listing my head as I ran my fingers through my hair.
“The volleyball game,” he said, “was date number one, and the party was date number two.”
“First of all, the volleyball game was not a date, I was just being nice,” I said, trying to brush off the fact that it probably … definitely … could have been a date. “And second, Scott and Michael’s party was a party.”
“No.” He smiled, listing his head to match mine. “I knew you would be there, and I asked you to meet me there. I mean, you thought I was asking you to meet me in outer space, but really, I was asking you to meet me at Scott and Michael’s. Plus, I asked Michael to ask Serena to ask you if you were coming just to make sure.”
I pressed my fingertips to my mouth as a slow smile spread across my face. Okay, well, that explained a hell of a lot of things. “You knew I had no clue what you said that day, though.”
“Right, but does it matter anymore?”
I ran my tongue across my bottom lip, trying to think of a comeback.
“So yeah, third date,” he said when I didn’t respond.
I flipped my hair over my shoulder. “Touché.”
“Bravo!” he responded. “So, will you go on a date with me?”
I shook my head slowly, my eyes glued to his. “Maybe,” I said as I thumbed the edge of my stack of index cards again. “Just get me that midterm, and then we’ll talk.”
His smile crept slowly. “I get you the test, and you’ll go on a date with me?”
“Peut-être.” I shrugged, playing indifferent.
His eyebrow quirked. “Can I pick the date?”
“No, I already have something in mind.” I twisted the rubber band around my index cards and then dropped them with a light thud onto my textbook.
“Wait, you were already thinking of asking me on a date?” He grabbed my index cards and thumbed the edges like I had just done.
I shrugged. “Yeah, kind of.”
“You were going to ask me on an already-planned date whether I got you the midterm or not?” He continued to thumb the index cards as he watched my mouth.
“Oui.” I nodded. “But now I get the midterm, too, so it’s a win-win for me.”
“And I get a date with you?” he asked.
“Of course.” I snatched the index cards from his hands before he bent the edges.
“Well, then, that’s a win-win for me, too.”
26
Who Are You and What Have You Done with Hudson?
The lobby of the college’s performing arts building was buzzing. The doors had opened minutes earlier, but there was no rush to get inside. I stood off to the side, contemplating leaning against the wall as I wiggled my toes in my heels to get the feeling back.
I checked my phone—no messages, other than the eight panicked messages from Terrance about his crew not being on time for the show that was about to start. Hudson was already ten minutes late—not for the show, but I’d asked him to meet at seven, when the doors opened. Where was he?
“He here yet?” Serena asked as she approached, Michael in tow.
I put my hands on my hips, listing my head at her.
“Right,” Serena said, shoving me playfully. She knew I was annoyed. “Why don’t we go and get our seats, and we’ll see you in there, okay?”
“Yeah, that’s fine.” I huffed, letting myself deflate a little.
“You look good, though,” Serena said, using a finger to size me up and down as she took a backward step.
I smiled. “Thank you.” I grasped the hem of my olive green chunky-knit cardigan and fell into a small curtsy. “See you in there,” I called as I pulled at my hair. I scanned the room, fidgeting with the end of my braid; I’d twisted the front down and into a loose side braid. I turned back to the doors, one hand on my hip and the other playing with my hair, my shoulders rolled forward, when I saw him. He’d been standing there watching me.
“Hi,” I breathed as I took him in. He looked absolutely perfect. Navy fitted chinos, a maroon-and-navy-plaid button-down, and a gray blazer, just the top button done.
“Hey,” he said, his eyes going to his brown oxfords before rising to meet mine. The cuffs of his pants were rolled once, and a patterned sock showed only just.
“Jesus, where did you come from?” I pressed a hand to both cheeks, trying to hide the heat in my face.
“I did some research … used your sketches as inspiration,” he said as he took a step toward me, his voice lowering. “But here’s the thing I don’t understand…” He took another step.
“Mmmhmm?” I hummed, my breath caught in my throat. He’d used my sketches as inspiration?
“My cuffs,” he said, holding his wrist up to me. “You see…” He took another step, his voice lowering to a whisper. “I’m supposed to cuff my shirt over the blazer, right?” He took another step.
“Yes,” I said, my lips barely moving. He was close enough to kiss, and it was all I could think about.
I looked to Hudson and then to the floor, willing my cheeks to stop burning. He was making me foggy. He was making me sweat in places I shouldn’t, considering the sheer ivory tank I wore underneath.
“But.” He closed the space between us and leaned into me, his nose in my neck. “What do I do if I take my jacket off? Do I have to roll my sleeves again?” His breath hot against my skin. Every one of my senses was on high alert, and I loved it. Nothing else mattered in that moment. Not even the fact that we were standing in a semi-crowded lobby.
“And then what do I do when I put my jacket back on?” His lips grazed just under my ear as he spoke. “Do I have to unroll my cuffs, put my jacket on, and then recuff over the blazer?” He ran his thumb along my jawline, starting at my ear. He was electric.
I couldn’t answer. My stomach was in my throat in the best way possible. I swallowed hard as he cupped my face with both hands.
“Hmm?” He trailed both thumbs down the side of my face and then linked his hands behind his back.
I blinked hard.
“What—” I couldn’t form words. I couldn’t process what was happening. What I was seeing. What I heard. What I felt.
“Edie, this is important. Can you please pay attention?” he teased. “My eyes are up here.” Using two fingers he pointed to his eyes, then me.
I pressed my palms to my cheeks, my face burning.
“Come on, then,” he said, offering me his arm. I linked mine through his, grasping his bicep as we began to move toward the theater entrance. “Let me know when you’ve regained your ability to speak.”
* * *
“So, you really like my outfit?” Hudson asked as we settled into our seats in front of Serena and Michael.
“I did … I do … I love it,” I said, rambling. Feeling like I wanted to confess my love for who was in the outfit as well. “Qu’il est beau.”
“Tu es belle, aussi.” He smiled at me appreciatively. “Where’d you learn that one?” He slid his hand into mine, interlocking our fingers.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I teased.
Serena cleared her throat with a loud ahem as the lights began to dim. �
�Keep it PG, you two. There are people around.”
I turned to Serena. “What does that mean?” I whispered.
She looked at me, unconvinced. “Like you don’t know,” she said, motioning with her chin toward Hudson. He turned and offered her a purposefully awkward wave. “The two of you are oozing sex right now.”
I gasped and swatted at her as the curtain went up. “We are not,” I said, whispering like a mom scolding her kid in public.
Serena swatted me back, looking at me and then Hudson. She laughed. “You really are, though.”
I huffed, smiling as I leaned back into my seat, settling in against Hudson’s arm.
He leaned into me, his nose touching my ear and his breath hot against my face. “I really would like to know. I’m impressed that you’ve been teaching yourself conversational phrases.”
I smiled, pulling my shoulder to my ear to keep the goose bumps from spreading. “My repertoire grows larger every day. I need to keep you on your toes, you know.” I smiled as I turned my head, our cheeks touching.
“My repertoire grows when I’m around you, too.” He pressed his smile into my neck before kissing it.
Another small ahem came from behind.
“Don’t forget where we are right now,” I said, settling back into my seat.
He didn’t move, his lips still close to my ear. “I will never forget where we are right now,” he said. “Or how you look.” He turned his face toward the stage. “Or the way you make me feel.”
I smiled at my feet and then at him. “I feel like I’m floating,” I whispered, suddenly aware of how light I felt when I was with him. How unburdened I felt with him near. How it felt like this moment could last forever.
“When I’m around you, I’m always floating. I’m always in outer space.”
When I turned my head, his eyes were already waiting for mine. I smiled, squeezing his hand.
“Oh my God.” Serena leaned between us. “Knock. It. Off,” she said through a smile as she tugged my hair, causing me to settle back in my seat.
27
A Kiss, to Kiss, We Are Kissing
The four of us stepped into the cold night. The play had been great, and Terrance’s lighting was beautiful. We waited for a little while after the close, but I needed to get out of my heeled booties as soon as possible.
“I need to get away from the two of you,” Serena said. She hopped down the four steps that led out of the building. “I mean, honestly.” She turned toward us, looking up from the bottom of the stairs.
I shook my head, my hand snugly in Hudson’s. “Shut up,” I said, my face flushing.
“But seriously, though,” Michael added, lifting a hand at both of us. “I worked some major magic with these two, didn’t I?” He joined Serena at the bottom of the stairs.
Serena looked at us and then at Michael. “Oh, sweetie, this was bound to happen. If anything, you just sped it up a tiny bit.”
“All right,” I said, holding the last word, embarrassment seeping out of my pores. Hudson squeezed my hand. “Maybe you two should go.”
“Yeah, like back to Michael’s, for example,” Hudson added, his voice dripping with suggestion. He may as well have winked at his friend.
“Oh my God. Wow,” Serena said with a curt wave, walking in the direction of Michael’s car. “Oh-kay. Good night, then.”
Michael gave a quick salute to Hudson before jogging to catch up to Serena.
“That was embarrassing,” I said, sinking my face into his chest.
Hudson pressed his lips to my head. “It’s okay, P.P.” I felt his smile grow.
“I told you to stop calling me P.P.” I pushed Hudson away from me as we headed toward my dorm.
He smiled big as he caught my hand in his. “But it suits you, and I really, really love the way you hate it.”
“You love how much I hate it?” I asked, pulling him to a stop. I squeezed his hand as my stomach tumbled. He looked so good, and it was a beautiful night, and he’d draped his blazer over my shoulders before we left the building, even though my sweater was plenty warm. The night couldn’t have gone better.
“I do,” he said, swinging our hands.
“What part of me hating that name is your favorite?” I prodded.
We began walking again. “Well, for starters I love the way your cheeks get red and your eyes get squinty,” he said, pulling me in and kissing my forehead. “And I love the way you push me or pinch me or squeeze my hand tight.”
“I’ll just have to start doing things you don’t love, then,” I countered.
“Impossible.” He shook his head with determination.
“I’m sure there are a few things I could do that you wouldn’t love.” I smiled.
“Since we’re headed back to your room, you can show me all the things I’ll hate.”
“Oh, are you under the impression that you’re coming over?” I teased.
“I mean, we could easily just go to my room,” he said. “But Stephen J. is there, so…”
I squeezed his hand, shoving him with my shoulder.
“And plus, Serena told me she was staying at Michael’s and that I could spend the night and that I could eat all her Oreos.”
“Liar,” I said with a laugh. “Are you seriously trying to tell me that her reaction just now was entirely preplanned?”
He pulled me to a stop, my dorm a sidewalk and a set of stairs away. “Yes, that is what I’m telling you. One-hundred percent preplanned. She’s a great actress, right?” He pulled me into him.
“You are such a liar,” I said with a laugh.
“En français,” he said, pressing his lips to mine.
I smiled against his. “Menteur.”
“Bravo!” He kissed me hard once.
* * *
“La fleur.”
I ran my fingers down his abdomen as I thought, my head against his chest while he quizzed me.
“Flower,” I said.
He kissed my head in response. “Nous sommes allés.”
I didn’t know this one.
“You smell great,” I said, nuzzling my face into him, avoiding the vocab I didn’t know.
“Je sais,” he said. “Nous sommes allés.”
“And you looked really good tonight at the show,” I said, smiling into his chest. “You made me sweaty in inappropriate places.”
“Merci, d’avoir remarqué,” he said with a laugh, shaking his head. He knew I was avoiding answering. “I would really like to explore that statement further, but first: Nous sommes allés.”
“Le vin est bon,” I replied, saying one of the few phrases I knew by heart. The wine is good.
“C’est vrai! Nous sommes allés.”
I tilted my head so I could see his face. He smiled down at me, though not amused by my avoidance.
“Spell it,” I said, knowing that sometimes it helped to visualize words if I was having trouble understanding.
He spelled the words slowly. Punctuating the last letter with a kiss to my head.
“We went,” I said, guessing but feeling confident.
“Bravo,” he said, entwining our fingers over his midsection. “Nous allons apprendre.”
Oh, I knew this one. “We are learning,” I said with a smile.
“We are going to learn,” he corrected, but awarding me with a kiss to the head anyway. “Faire des courses.”
“Easy, shopping,” I said, looking up at him.
“Trop facile? How about: Prenez le temps de vivre?”
Nope, didn’t know that one. “It wasn’t getting too easy. I take it back,” I said with a laugh.
“It’s what we are doing right now. Prenez le temps de vivre,” he repeated.
“About to make out?”
Hudson let out a long, thoughtful sigh as he contemplated my offer. “Ça pourrait être très facilement prévu, but no.”
“Oh my God, I have no clue what you just said.” I pinched his side. I knew prévu, that meant to plan, and I knew
très, that meant very. But as for the first phrase I had no clue.
“Tell me what I just said, and we can make out,” he said, shying away from another pinch.
“Impossible,” I said with a pout.
“Which is impossible, you translating what I said, or us making out?”
“Us making out will never be impossible,” I said. Hudson ran his hand through my hair, brushing it away from my forehead and stopping as he cupped my cheek. “Translating, on the other hand…”
“En français.”
“Embrasser pas difficiler,” I said, trying my hardest to come up with something even relatively close, but coming up short. I managed Kissing is not work. But kiss as a noun, not a verb, like I had said in the quiet room when I was denied a kiss.
Hudson burst into laughter, his abdomen shaking as he laughed. “Do you even know what you just said?” He brushed tears from his eyes.
“Yes!” I said, faking offense. I thought I used what little vocabulary I had effectively. “Can I at least get an A for effort?”
“Yes, babe, of course.” He was still laughing when he pressed his lips to my forehead. I pushed up so that his lips would press against mine once, and then twice. He smiled against my kiss, laughing.
“If you don’t stop laughing at me, I’ll make sure I laugh at you next time you’re most vulnerable,” I teased, squeezing his inner thigh for emphasis.
He laughed again, recoiling from my squeeze. “Okay, okay. I surrender.” He pulled me in, his lips on mine again, except he couldn’t stop laughing.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said with another laugh.
“Just go on and get it all out.” I sighed, knowing that this was a losing battle. Once he really got laughing it was all over.
Hudson let go, laughing fully, his belly shaking as he repeated the words I said in French. Laughing harder each time he repeated them.
I waited, crossing my arms as I watched his laughter finally start to fade. “Are you finished?” I asked.
He smiled, nodding.
“Good,” I said, uncrossing my arms and running my finger over a tiny hole in his T-shirt. “How did you manage this?”
Meet Me in Outer Space Page 13
