“Jerry DuBois?” the professor barks. “This is Carter Gaylon. So, you’re in Boston now, you old bird. I called to say that if you buy me an expensive surf-and-turf dinner I will forgive you.” He frowns and listens. “Fine... we can negotiate. Yes, fine. Saturday, it is...No, I don’t need directions. I know how to Google Map.” He thrusts the phone back at Esben. “Maybe you’re not so dumb after all.”
Kerry points at the whiteboard, and Esben hurriedly scribbles#jerry#bestfriendon it and snaps a picture.
Without another word, Professor Gaylon turns and leaves. There is, however, a slight jauntiness to his step.
CHAPTER 17
SPECTRUM
I’m stretched on my stomach on Esben’s bed, with a textbook open to one of the most boring chapters in the history of textbook chapters, but I am forcing myself to pay attention. The November weekend weather is dreary and miserable, the sound of the rain pattering against the window, so it’s a good day to snuggle up inside and work. Esben is sitting in his chair, with his feet kicked up on the desk. He has been engrossed in a book for one of his lit classes, and he’s barely looked up in the past two hours since we came back from lunch. So, I’m startled when he suddenly drops the book and slides the chair the few feet it takes to reach the end of the bed.
“Allison?”
I can’t tell if he’s mad or what, but there’s a somewhat confused look on his face that I’m not able to read. “Yeah?” I ask nervously.
“We have to talk about something,” he blurts out.
Exasperated. That’s what it is. Esben sounds exasperated.
Here it is. I knew whatever was going on between us wasn’t going to last. “All right.” I shut my book and stare at the cover rather than him.
“Are you seeing anyone else?” he asks.
It’s a good thing I’m not prone to snorting, because this is the most ridiculous question ever. Now I look at him, because I have to know if he’s swapped bodies with someone wearing a straitjacket. “Am Iwhat?”
“We haven’t...talked about that. Or about us. Or if there is an us. And...”
He’s right. We haven’t. And I haven’t known how to bring this up. Or maybe I’ve been scared to.
“Esben, good Lord, if either of us is likely to be seeing anyone else, it’s you. You’re the one with half the planet dying to get a piece of you.”
He laughs. “I think that’s a slight exaggeration.”
I move in front of him so that his legs rest between mine. “Maybe slight. But you know what I mean. You could be with a thousand people other than me. And probably girls who would be more...would be more...” I really don’t want to have to say this aloud.
“More what?” he prompts.
Over the past weeks, I’ve spent hours and hours with Esben. We study, we talk, we have meals together. We do almost everything together. We kiss, we embrace—sometimes for longer than others—and then we say good night. And go to our own dorms.
If he is not already about to dump me, I’m very afraid that I’m about to blow this all apart. “When you walk me home, at night, you have never asked to stay over.”
Esben smiles with a little embarrassment. “That’s true.”
“You’ve never...tried anything.” The awkwardness of this unexpected conversation is nearly crippling.
“That’s also true.” Esben takes my hand. “Do you know why?”
“Because you’re getting routine, nightly sex from Twitter followers who have stalked you to this very room, so you’re not interested in me?”
He laughs. “No. Allison, I am crazy attracted to you, and I haven’t so much as looked at another girl since I met you.”
“So no Twitter lays?”
“Not a one.” He takes my other hand in his. “It’s not a secret that you’ve had a rough time, and I know how hard it’s been for you to let me in at all. I don’t want to push you into anything physical. I figure if you’re ready for something more, you’ll tell me.”
I have to think about how to answer this. “Every time we kiss good-bye and you leave my room, I want to ask you to stay. But I also don’t. I’m not sure if that makes sense.”
“I think so. But keep talking.”
