Again, But Better(29)

Pies makes a Soprano-esque frown-approval face and nods his head. “Sign me up. Sounds like a party. We can take the Eurostar train, right?”

I turn my attention back to my computer screen, a tiny relieved smile crawling up my face.

“Yes!” Babe beams. “Yes, we can. Great. I’m going to look up the things we can do and get everything planned, and it’s going to be so much fun. I’m so excited! It’s gonna be epic!” She gathers her things and whooshes out of the kitchen.

The microwave beeps. Pilot gets up to grab his lasagna and slides back into his chair. “So, we’re going to Paris,” he says casually, digging into his food.

I look up for a second to make eye contact. “Apparently.”

He nods, his lips quirked up to one side. I turn back to my computer. When Pilot finishes eating and leaves the kitchen, I blast Ke$ha and give in to a brief celebratory he-didn’t-see-the-posts-and-we’re-going-to-Paris dance party.





13. Here Goes Nothing




1/19/11 11:05 p.m.

Tomorrow after class we go to Paris. What is my life now? I’m glad I’ve been hoarding my savings for years because I’m going to run out of summer work money faster than expected if I keep up this avid traveler thing.

Earlier today I Skyped with Mom. She mentioned that she and Dad are thinking about coming out to visit. I did my best to discourage her without arousing suspicion or sounding mean.

I downloaded this game everyone’s talking about called Angry Birds on my iPod this morning. Super-frustrating, but addictive as hell. I wasted an hour where I could have been reading or writing, throwing birds at green pigs.

Tonight was Flat Three’s first official Shwednesday! I went out for the shawarma. It was even better the second time around. Afterward, we all played a game of Rummy 500. Atticus gave me a run for my money.





* * *



Past Eurostar security, I find myself in an area that feels very much like an airport terminal: lots of tired people sitting around in chairs, a Café Nero, and a little restaurant. Babe and Chad already left on a 4:00 p.m. train because they get out of class earlier than me and Pilot. The two of us are set to catch a 6:30 p.m. train, and we’re all going to meet at the hostel Babe booked for us.

I spot Pilot chilling in a seating area off to the right with a backpack at his feet. He’s dressed in an unbuttoned red-and-blue plaid button-up with a gray T-shirt underneath and jeans. His green jacket is tucked under one of his arms, and white headphones trail from his ears down to an iPod in his hand.

Nerves prickle my skin. I wonder if he feels weird about this. Not only are we going to Paris in a foursome, but we’ve broken off into twosomes to actually get there. Why couldn’t Babe wait these two hours and go with us? I roll my stuff toward the seating area.

“Hey,” I say brightly when I’m about two feet away.

Pilot hadn’t seen me, and he startles, yanking out his headphones.

I chuckle and take the seat next to him. “What were you listening to?”

“Secret snobby hipster music,” he says without pause as he wraps his headphones and stuffs them away in a backpack. “You wouldn’t know it.”

“Are you embarrassed to tell me? Was it super-mainstream? Was it the Backstreet Boys?”

Pilot’s mouth falls open. “How’d you know?”

I blink in surprise. “Wait, really?”

“No.” He laughs.

I scrunch up my face and extend my arms in a pushing motion, without actually pushing him. “This is me mentally pushing you over.”

The seats on the train are divided into sections of two. It’s going to be a two-and-half-hour ride, and we’re going to spend a lot of it under the English Channel.

Pilot takes the window seat, and I plop down next to him after storing my roller bag above us. I fish my iPod Touch out of my book bag before stuffing it down by my feet. Right on time, the train pulls forward, and we’re on our way.

“Have you played that game everyone’s talking about, Angry Birds?” I ask as my iPod powers up.

“No, I’ve heard of it, though,” he says. Pilot shifts a bit so we can look at each other more easily when we talk.

“I just got it on my iPod and tried it the other day. It’s pretty fun. Do you want to play?”

“Sure.”

“Okay, we can switch off. I’ll go first so you can watch my technique,” I say.

He grins, leaning in to see the tiny screen in my hand. I’m only on level three. I don’t have much technique, but I play my round leaning slightly to the right so Pilot can watch. Our heads get close as we hunch over the little iPod. My heart gets excited. My hands get sweaty. When I lose, I pass him the iPod so he can give it a go.

Soon, we’re completely lost, having an excellent time strategizing together about how best to take out our targets with the allotted amount of birds. Some levels go quickly, but others stump us for rounds and rounds of going back and forth between the two of us, and all the while, we’re sitting so close.

All the alarms go off in my brain when I realize his shoulder’s leaning against mine. We’re touching shoulders! Shoulders are touching. This is something! THIS IS ROMANCE. Must stay still. Can’t. Lose. Shoulder contact.

“Awww,” he croons sympathetically as my last bird dies. “You were so close. I got this.” He gently takes the iPod from my hands. Yeah, sorry I missed that last pig, I’m a little busy trying to be a statue over here.