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“I wanted to keep the integrity of the quote. You know, like when a band does a cover of a song and they keep the words intact, even if it’s a guy singing a girl’s song?”
“I actually appreciate that. And I love cover songs… especially acoustic covers. Especially when they’re better than the original. There’s something weirdly thrilling about hearing the same melody and lyrics but in a different genre.”
He narrows his eyes and turns his laptop so I can see the screen. He has a music streaming site up, the station on pause.Coffeehouse Acoustic Covers.
Silence hangs in the air for a beat.
“You’re kidding me,” I say.
He laughs. “Nope. This is happening.”
I sigh and now it’s my turn to lean back and study him. “Okay… what is going on here? Have you been secretly stalking me and figuring out my likes and dislikes, or am I in some kind of psych experiment here and I don’t know it? Am I being punked?”
His eyes, behind his glasses, flicker. There’s that playful grin. He’s slouched in his chair again, lean body relaxed, legs kicked out. He’s so confident, it makes me feel relaxed, too.
“I think what’s going on here, Maddison, is that we’re supposed to be friends.”
“Friends? I don’t know… I don’t think it’s supposed to happen like this.”
“Like what?”
“Like,formally. I mean. We’re not supposed totalkabout it. I’m pretty sure friendship is supposed to start unspoken.”
“Is that right?”
“Yes. I’m supposed to go to my classes and mingle around and slowly get to know my roommate and girls from my classes, and bond over time, and laugh over stupid stuff in the dorm room, and then we call each other to go shopping, and soon we’re inseparable…”
“And has that happened?”
No.
Not with my roommate, nor anyone else I’ve met since moving onto the Vermont University Stillwell Campus.
The girl in the bottom bunk in my small dorm room seems way more interested in going out at every chance she gets and talking to other girls in the hall instead of me. We haven’t connected over anything.
Not one shared laugh.
Not one text.
Not one shopping trip.
“Er… no. But still. Maybe it will.”
He shrugs. “Okay—suit yourself. Just thought I’d extend the offer.”
I blush. I’m being an idiot. And rude, too.
Who am I to say how friends are supposed to meet? What do I know?
I’ve been at this college thing for five weeks so far, and I haven’t really connected with anyone. And actually, this is the best I’ve felt in ages.
I blame the fact that it smells like my grandmother’s house in here, and Nap Boy is putting me at ease, and I do like talking to him. It’s nice to be around someone with priorities other than partying.
“Um… can I backpedal?”
“I’ll allow it,” he says.
“Okay, then, about the friend thing… Sure.”
