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I turn to face her
. She wants to say more; I can tell because her lips are parted. When she doesn’t say anything after a beat, I continue on my way to the shower. This day was going so well. I need to recoup while I’m in the shower because I know if I don’t, Brittany won’t be able to hold off asking me about it.
Then again, I feel guilty because I’m supposed to be talking to her about these kinds of things and here I am trying to make sure she doesn’t make me. My shower isn’t helping clear my thoughts at all, so I make it a quick one.
Brittany is sitting in the middle of the couch, watching TV when I walk in. I sit next to her and decide to just go for it. “You know how I didn’t really talk to you my first month here?” She nods. “Well, I didn’t talk to my dad at all either. He’s pissed I didn’t come home for Christmas and wants to know when I’ll visit. I don’t like to visit because I’m not always in the best of shapes and I have to hide it from him.” Her mouth opens. “Don’t tell me that I could just tell him. Topic is off limits for a while. So,” I get us back on track, “it stresses me out to have to talk to him.”
“I’m sorry.” Her frown deepens. “You spent Christmas alone?”
“It wasn’t that bad.”
She nods, but I can’t tell if she believes me or not. “What are we going to do?”
“Well, since I was at someone’s dorm room last night, I missed the new Dateline, but I had it recorded. Want to watch that with me?”
“Sure.”
“Do you want some popcorn? I usually have a bowl to munch on while I watch.”
Brittany tilts her head. “Really? Popcorn with Dateline? It’s not a movie. It’s a show where it’s always obvious who did it. Why do you need popcorn?”
“Because I’m an old man set in my ways and I eat popcorn when I watch the show. Want a Sun Drop?”
“Yes, please.” I stand and head toward the kitchen. “And you’re not old!” she calls after me.
Her comment makes me smile. I come back to the living room, two cans of drink in one hand and a bowl of freshly popped popcorn in the other. This is a decent way to spend the afternoon.
Trace is so completely invested in Dateline; it’s cute. It may also be the first time, aside from when he’s sleeping, that he looks relaxed. Trace being relaxed causes me to do the same. For the first time in months, my anxiety seems to take a break. I rest my head on Trace’s shoulder, very much enjoying being here with him.
While he fast-forwards on a commercial, I ask, “You’re from Texas, right? How did you end up in North Carolina?”
“We took a vacation here one year and I fell in love with the state. I came here for college and never left.”
“What do you love about North Carolina?” I’ve never lived anywhere else, so it will be interesting to hear about it from someone who wasn’t born and raised here.
Trace pauses the show, so he doesn’t miss what comes next while he answers me. “I love that it has both the mountains and the beach. I love that you get all four seasons. I love that Sun Drop exists here. Whenever I do take trips home, I have to pack some to take with me. And I love that I’ve yet to visit a place I didn’t like.”
“How often do you go back to Texas?”
“Every year or so.” Most likely as a method of preventing me from asking more questions, he asks, “Do you think you’ll ever move out of the state?”
“Probably not. I love it here. Plus, I haven’t really traveled enough to know where I’d want to go. I would like to do some traveling, though.”
“Me too.”
I stay quiet so he can finish watching his show. I laugh to myself at the thought of how it’s sort of like his soap opera. Trace raises an eyebrow at my chuckling, but I shake my head. As it comes to an end, an antsy feeling takes over. It’s like I’m suddenly on high alert and can’t stop thinking about all I need to do. “I should get back,” I reluctantly start. “Homework and all.”
Trace slouches a little more into the couch, stretching his legs out underneath the coffee table, as if he’s getting comfortable and not as if he’s about to get up and take me to campus. He turns his head against the back cushion to look at me. “Have a lot to do?”
“More like I have a lot to go over and perfect.”
He reaches over to take my hand in his, practically swallowing it whole. “I think you could use a day off.”
“I had a day off yesterday,” I remind him.
“That doesn’t count. You slept for most of it.” When I frown, he smiles slightly and leans over to place a firm, short kiss against my lips. My first thought is about how I guess we’re joking about the error of my ways, but it all fades away with the touch of his mouth until he speaks and snaps me out of it quickly. “I can’t stop thinking about fried pickles and I want you to go eat some with me. After that, if you want to go back to campus, I’ll take you.”
If I want to go back to campus? Is that an invitation to stay here again? No, I’m sure he simply misspoke or meant something else. “Okay,” I say.
