Again, But Better(87)

I nod in return, still at a loss. “So, good night … uh, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

A smirk flickers over his lips. “Good night.”

He doesn’t move to unlock his door, so I don’t either. I wait a few seconds.

“Are you going in?” I ask, amused.

“Are you?” he challenges.

“Yeah, I’m going in.” I smile.

“Okay, so am I.”

“Okay, same.” And then the door supporting my weight flies out from behind me, and I’m falling to my death. “The fuck?” flies out of my mouth as I twist in the air to catch myself before hitting the ground.

“Jiminy Cricket!” Babe’s voice comes from somewhere near my crashing body. I manage to fall on my right forearm, but that’s going to leave a bruise. Pilot’s in front of me, grabbing my hand, helping me up. Babe’s apologizing profusely.

“Oh my goodness, I kept hearing someone outside the door. And I thought maybe you didn’t have a key, and oh Mylanta, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, Babe,” I breathe.

“You okay?” Pilot asks when I’m upright again.

“I’m fine,” I insist with an embarrassed chuckle. And then I keel over laughing. Babe and Pilot join me.

“Good night, Pies,” I repeat one last time. He nods and I nod back. He retreats to his door again.

“Night,” Babe adds. He finally turns around to put his key in the lock, so Babe and I close our door. Sahra’s on her laptop with headphones in.

“What was that about?” Babe asks excitedly.

I snort as I head for the bathroom to take a shower. “Nothing, we were just saying good night.”

“Did he break up with her?”

I pivot, make my eyes super-wide, squeeze my lips together in a line, and nod.

“Oh my goodness!” She falls into her bed, giggling.

“What? What happened?” Sahra says, lowering her headphones.

“Pilot broke up with his girlfriend!” Babe squeals excitedly.

“What? Why?” Sahra asks.

“Because of Shane!” Babe laughs.

“No!” I say immediately.

“What?” Sahra says in surprise.

I lock myself in the bathroom and hop in the shower to avoid an inquisition.





12. The Rush at the Beginning



I’m at the kitchen table Wednesday morning, working on a bagel, when Pilot strides in. My heart kick-starts. We head to Paris tomorrow.

“Morning,” he greets me casually before flipping on the electric kettle.

“Morning.” I smile at him before returning to my studious Twitter scrolling on Sawyer. He fixes himself a cup of tea and sits across from me, grinning.

I pull away from the computer and raise my eyebrows in question.

“So,” he starts, “ah … I don’t want to come off super-forward, but would you maybe want to come to Paris with me this weekend?”

“Like on a date?” I say with mock surprise.

“Yes?”

“Sure.”

“Okay, good.” His grin widens. “What time does your class get out tomorrow?”

“Four thirty.”

“Four thirty,” he repeats. With that, he stands, puts his tea in the sink, and leaves.



* * *



Thursday has come. I’m in class. We’re discussing world-building by dissecting Harry Potter and it’s everything. I’ve got my backpack and rolling suitcase with me at my desk because I have to leave straight from here to make the six-thirty Eurostar. When the lecture ends, I’m the last one out, bringing up the rear with my luggage. As I drag my bag over the building’s threshold, I catch sight of Pilot standing out on the sidewalk, wearing his backpack and carrying a plastic bag.

“What are you doing here?” I ask cheerily, as I step up to where he’s waiting.

“Got us some travel food.” He holds out the plastic bag.

I gasp dramatically at the contents. “Shawarma! How did you know I liked this?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never heard you talk about it.”



* * *



We sit side by side on the Tube. We’re nice and smooshed with the incoming rush-hour crowd. We’re on a date. A first date. Which is weird because we already know each other. First dates are usually so … new.

But how much do I really know about Pilot’s life outside of London? I turn to where he is on my right, and he meets my eyes.

“Pies, we’ve never really talked about our lives outside of … study abroad. Is that weird? I felt like I knew you, I feel like you knew me, but did we?” My eyebrows pull together.

“That’s a loaded question.” He tilts his head. I watch, freely admiring how attractive he looks right now, because I’m allowed, because we’re on a date! The Tube lady’s voice rings overhead: “Mind the gap.”

His eyes refocus on me. “We knew each other. I guess I kept stuff about life back home private because it just didn’t come up. There were so many other things to discuss because everything was new.”

“Yeah, I never really offered much information about life at home either. I guess it was kind of like an escape, being here and not having to dwell on anything but the novelty of being here.”