introduce my own topic.
“Halle,” Andrea says, passing me a plate of lettuce wraps for seconds. The way she pauses after she says my name, I know it’s time to brace for a Casual College Talk. It happens every week. “Did Nash tell you we’re going to tour Wesleyan this weekend?”
I take two pieces of lettuce and nod. “He told me.”
Nash didn’t tell me so much as lament to me. I try to make eye contact with him, but he’s turned his attention to his food like it’s a plating challenge on Top Chef—so focused on achieving the perfect beef-to-veggie ratio. I understand. Admissions decisions loom near. The closer it gets, the more Andrea and David want to talk about it.
“It’s such a beautiful campus,” Andrea says.
“We know,” Nash says.
Wesleyan is twenty minutes away.
Painfully close, Nash wallowed. Like, live at home close.
“Clearly, Nash can’t wait,” David says. “His enthusiasm? It’s too much!”
Andrea shakes her head. “Sure, we drive by Wesleyan all the time, but it’s not a tour. You need to see the classrooms! Talk to current students about campus life! Try to imagine yourself there! At least be engaged in this process.”
“It almost feels like we’re the ones applying to college,” David says.
Andrea turns her attention toward me. “Did you go on any college tours, Halle?”
I shake my head. “Not officially, but when I was twelve, my grandmother took me around NYU. And I kind of just knew.”
Andrea crumples a napkin in her hand. “When you were twelve?”
“Yeah. I remember just having this feeling when I was there. I can’t explain it. My family has always moved around, so I have a weird relationship with the idea of home. But walking around NYU with my grandmother? That day felt like home. Or at least the possibility of it.”
Nash shoots me a look, like he’s grateful the conversation has pivoted away from him.
David points his fork at Nash. “Maybe you’ll have a feeling this weekend, Nash.”
Nash shakes his head and stands, bringing our empty plates to the sink. “The only feeling I have right now concerns finding out what happens to Eleven in the next episode of Stranger Things. I’m so stressed. Seriously.”
I drum my fingers against my thigh and count thirty-four seconds of silence.
“Very funny,” Andrea says, finishing her glass of wine.
David begins clearing the table too. “Well, I guess you’d better go do that. If you’re so stressed.”
“I truly am.”
Nash grabs my hand and leads me away from the kitchen, away from Andrea and David and their not-so Casual College Talks.
* * *
“You can’t keep doing that.”
We’re in Nash’s basement, hanging out like we do after the dinners that have become more and more awkward with each passing week. Usually, the best part about Tuesday nights at Nash’s is after dinner, because we always get at least two full hours of alone. His basement is a media room—the perfect spot to, um, binge watch a Netflix series.
“I’m not doing anything,” Nash says.
He turns on the TV and sits next to me on the floor, our backs pressed against the cool leather chair. There isn’t a couch, just four matching chairs that recline, almost like movie theater seats. We opt for the carpeted rug, padding it with blankets and a deflated beanbag because the chairs are definitely made for one-person occupancy—trust me, we tried.
“Do you even know what episode of Stranger Things we’re on?” I ask. “Because I definitely don’t.”
Remote in hand, he clicks into the series page. “No clue.”
“Nash.” I reach for his hand. Cover it with mine. “Your parents seem worried. I really think you should—”
I stop short. What? I really think you should tell your parents about NYU? Because I totally am an authority when it comes to honesty.
“I know,” Nash says. “If I get in.”
“Okay, but—”
“Halle.” Nash rotates his hand in mine so our fingers intertwine. “Please. Can’t we just watch Stranger Things?”
Then Nash leans in and kisses me and I know I shouldn’t let him off the hook this easily, but it’s literally impossible to focus when his mouth is on mine, so I do. Of course I do. Because this TV time is the only time we’re alone for, like, an entire week. I didn’t realize until I wanted to spend all my free time kissing Nash’s face that we are never, in fact, alone.
Nash breaks the kiss and stands up and I don’t know why because we literally just got down here.
“Pause. I want to show you something,” he says. “I’ll be right