Again, But Better(45)
“So, this is really fun! What do you do?” Rugby Guy talk-yells over the music.
I turn away from Atticus to respond. “I, um, I write! What about you?”
“Like books or articles? I’m a lawyer!”
“Cool, um, both, I guess.” I take a sip of whatever wine managed to survive the dance session.
He stares at me for few beats. It starts to feel awkward, so I fumble to make conversation. “Um so, what are your thoughts on Legally Blonde? Was that an accurate portrayal of law school?” I try to smile.
His face lights up. “You are so cute.”
He doesn’t say anything else, so I laugh nervously and pull on a British accent. “Um, so, what kind of lawyer are you?”
“What’s that accent?” he exclaims happily.
I continue, “I don’t know to what you’re referring?” Before I can register what’s happening, he pulls me to his face and we’re kissing. Whaa?
I clutch my wineglass in one hand and the other hangs limply at my side. He’s kissing me, but I’m not sure what the hell I’m doing. It’s wet and warm and—my mind flashes to a time Leo unexpectedly grabbed my head and forced me underwater in the deep end of the pool.
We break apart. That was weird. I look at the ground, eyes wide. I’ve never been so close to another human’s face before, but I did it … I kissed someone. Someone whose name I don’t even know. How anticlimactic.
He takes my limp hand and holds it between us as we lean up against the bar. We make forced small talk for another ten minutes. It’s not much fun because I have to propel the whole conversation, and he responds with quick, boring answers whenever I ask him things.
Finally he asks, “So, could we go out sometime? Can I get your number?”
How do I say, Lol, no thanks, without sounding mean? I slowly retrieve my block phone.
“Um, yeah, hold on a sec,” I say, navigating through to my address book with the stupid tiny buttons. I don’t have my number memorized. I had to put myself in my own contact list. I click on the contact and turn the phone so he can see it. He plugs the number into his phone.
“Thanks!” He puts his iPhone away. “This was fun.”
He pulls me in, and we start kissing again. I let it happen because this is still such a mystery. I want to feel it out, so I’m not floundering when there comes a time I care about the human I’m kissing. This kiss is better. I kiss back for sure this time, and it goes on for a little longer before we break apart. Okay, that was better. That was kind of nice.
1/29/11 10:30 a.m.
It happened. I sit here eating breakfast and writing to you as a kissed human being. It doesn’t technically count as accomplishing a goal on the list because I didn’t really like that guy. But I put myself out there a smidgen, and I experienced the thing! And I feel slightly less left out of general society because of it. Now, I shall relax and begin my reread of Cassandra Clare’s City of Glass—which, yes, I brought to London in my suitcase—as a reward.
* * *
“Morning, Shane! You hear from Rugby Guy yet?”
I slap my notebook closed and look up at Atticus. He comes over waggling his eyebrows and sits across from me with his laptop.
I snort. “No, have you heard from Man Bun?”
“I have indeed. Nathan and I are getting dinner on Sunday.” He grins.
“Wow, that was fast.” I smile at him, before pulling over City of Glass from where I left it on the table.
“Whatcha reading?” he asks, curiously glancing at it.
“City of Glass, one of my favorites!” I tell him happily. “The fourth book in this series is coming out soon and I’m rereading in prep.”
“Never heard of it!” he says cheerfully.
“You’re missing out!” I tease. “What are you reading right now?”
“Currently The Poet by Michael Connelly. It’s creepy as hell, but it’s good.”
“I’ll add it to my TBR!” I proceed to pitch the Mortal Instruments series until he agrees to check them out.
Before heading back to my room to read in the bunk, I decide to ask Atticus if he’d be up for exploring some more of London with me this afternoon or tomorrow. I have to start building my repertoire of knowledge for the potential Packed! article. He politely declines because he already has theater-related plans and then of course, his date.
I head out of the kitchen and freeze halfway down the hall when I hear Pilot’s guitar. We haven’t talked in six days now. Should I see if Pilot would want to come with me? Maybe the only way to fix the weirdness happening between us is to push back against it with forced normalcy?
The door to his room is wide open.
I don’t give myself the chance to chicken out. I walk right up and lean against the doorframe. He’s strumming Lucy, wearing big old-fashioned headphones, and watching his computer screen.
“Hey,” I say a little louder than normal. He startles, dropping the headphones back.
“Hey, I didn’t see you.” He laughs weirdly. Nervously?
He glances down at the computer screen again and back at me. Oh god, is he Skyping with someone? But the door was open!
“Um, sorry!” My heart sledgehammers in my throat. “I wanted to see if you wanted to, um, explore places in London, later today or Sunday with me and maybe the girls? It should be fun. I’m doing research for an article I might get to write for Packed! and I’m working on this list of places I want to go check out and, uh … yeah.”