grabs my arm as I sway slightly. “You okay?”
I nod quickly. The grip of his fingers on my arm reminds me of Friday night. But then it was both hands holding me. The butterflies explode in my stomach, and I hate that it’s his body I want, his grip.
I know why Chloe kept leaning into Zeke.
Chloe. Right.
Stupid Zeke.
“I should help Alice with the food,” I mumble, pulling my arm from his grasp. He’s wearing his Chucks, not the running shoes he had on this morning. I love his Chucks.
“Let me help.” His words are soft and gentle, like they’re meant just for me.
But what about Chloe? What about—
“We can use it as an opportunity to practice our French for the test.” His words are rapid now, tripping over one another, squeezing out the available spaces where I could interrupt. “Est-ce que tu veux manger du pain avec du fromage?” he asks, his voice halting.
I glance up to meet his eyes, and there’s a pleading there I don’t recognize.
Like this is important beyond the dumb dialogue and our test tomorrow.
“Oui, merci.” I nod. We can do this. We can make today about practicing for class; we can get back on track. Because this feeling when we’re together? It makes my body feel alive and even if it’s nothing, even if that kiss is the only kiss we’ll have, I want to be near him, I want this awkwardness replaced with the easiness we used to have.
FOURTEEN
MY EXCUSE FOR KEEPING MY phone off at the library the next day is that it’s the rule. Turn off your phone, the sign says. Only apparently, I’m the only one who can read that sign.
So instead of hours spent actually reading The Little Prince in the original French or the dozen pages of French poetry I should be preparing for this week’s discussions, I’m listening to someone talk in detail about his hookup last night.
If I’m being honest, though, I’ll admit that his tone of voice might be exacerbated by my general irritation with all things Huntington.
And all things hookup.
And specifically the difference between spending an hour laughing in French with Zeke and studying French by myself, in the library. Sure, it’s all in French, but then again, a drizzle and a category-three hurricane are both weather events. Like A and Z are both letters, though the distance between them is the whole alphabet.
Maybe I should start avoiding Zeke outside of class time. Starting tonight.
Or rather tomorrow, since apparently Zeke, Colin, and Alice are all hanging out in our room.
“Hey, Colin.” I smile. “Alice.” I pause, because I shouldn’t be looking at the floor when I say his name, but the world’s not perfect and we do what we can. “Zeke.”
I could be graceful. I could pretend nothing happened. But apparently I lack all social grace and common sense. Instead I glare at Alice.
“Your phone was off.” Alice shrugs, her fountain pen still scratching away at her notebook. “Apparently you told Colin you guys were going to meet up tonight? And apparently Zeke thought you had plans to study—”
“We didn’t have plans.” I pivot to face Zeke, who’s biting his bottom lip.
“I might have misremembered,” he mumbles.
She’s still scribbling in her notebook, and I want to stop her and tell her how impressive I’m finding it that she’s able to be in this tiny room with two boys and still write poetry. Because two weeks ago I can’t imagine that she would have. Never mind talk and write at the same time.
But there are more immediate problems. Namely the two boys on my bed.
Sur mon lit. Zut.
Thankfully, both seem uninterested in talking. They are mostly staring.
“I’m sorry, both of you. I need to get some sleep.” I turn to Colin. “Can we make plans for another night?”
He nods and slips off the bed. Based on the sounds of bodies moving, I assume that Zeke is following.
“Will you be okay for tomorrow?” Zeke asks as he slips past me, following Colin.
Will I be okay? Does he mean because I’m so tired? Or because I’m reacting poorly to a kiss that shouldn’t have happened?
I’m so exhausted I may just tumble into bed wearing this soft blue tank top, even without taking off my uncomfortable bra. Especially since I can’t be certain that Zeke won’t wait it out in the hallway for me to go to the bathroom and force me to have a humiliating conversation.
“I’ll be fine,” I say, and he’s so close that I can feel