Page 25 of Past Present Future

“Plus,” he says, “that black eye is doing wonders for your street cred.”

“I’m starting to think you’re incapable of anything but ruthless positivity.”

Adhira bounds up to us then, fortunately without Zoe. “Dance with me,” she informs Skyler, not phrasing it as a question.

He gives his hair a flirtatious bat. “Because you’ve missed me? Because you’ve been counting down the days until I moved to the city? Because you—”

“Because I don’t know anyone else who likes the Mighty Mighty BossToneS unironically, and I put this on the playlist just for you,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “Ska never should have been a thing. You inherited the worst taste in music from your brothers.”

“They really are talented instrumentalists,” I say. “At least, that’s the impression that I get.”

A beat, and then Skyler bursts out laughing, throwing an arm around my shoulder. “You just became my new favorite person.”

Then he places his bottle on the counter and follows Adhira into the crush of bodies. “You’re enabling him!” she calls to me. Skyler throws me a wink before he turns his full attention back to her.

I watch them for a few moments, this effortless way they sway together, his index finger hooked into the belt loop on the back of her shorts. Every so often, he says something that makes her laugh, and she grabs a fistful of his shirt and moves closer.

My phone buzzes in my hand.

Rowan: I miss you. is it thanksgiving yet?

That’s our next visit: me in Boston for that holiday weekend. I wish we could do it sooner, but I bought this ticket early because prices would surely only skyrocket, and we’ll be seeing each other back home in mid-December, too. Especially now that we have our hearts set on Europe, we want to save money.

The more I think about it, the more I love the vision of it so much, I almost don’t want to think of the price tag. I’ve done some research—there are ways to do it cheaply. She’d lit up so completely while talking about it, and I’m not sure I could bear to disappoint her.

Neil: Rudely, no. But countdown app says 44 and a half more days.

We video chat and talk on the phone every few days, but the technology almost feels like it’s mocking us. Here is the girl you love in full color, smiling and laughing at your terrible jokes, only you can’t touch her. That’s all I want right now: Rowan in my arms, pressed together on this crowded dance floor.

Rowan: please know that I fully intend to lock you in my room and never let you out

but not in a creepy way

Now I’m picturing something else. The two of us alone in her dorm room, her long hair tangled in my hands and my mouth on hers. A chance to prove that what happened in New York was a fluke.

Neil: You got it. The rest of Boston can wait.

* * *

As much as Skyler would probably love for me to join an intramural pickleball team with him and a dozen of his closest friends, I’ve found something even better: Linguistics League.

The club meets Wednesday nights in the Linguistics Building, and it’s not a large gathering—about fifteen people with a few boxes of pizza, two-liter bottles of soda, and scattered cups and napkins. Surely this is what I need to fall back in love with linguistics, to gain some confidence to speak up in class. The free pizza is only a bonus.

I grab a slice, and I’m about to ask the person next to me if we simply sit around and discuss etymology when a long-haired guy at the front of the room calls out, “Hello, hello!” and the group quiets down.

“My dear friends and new faces, since this is our first meeting of the year, let’s start with some introductions.” He points to himself. “I’m Jay, the president of our small but mighty group, and next to me is your vice president, Chinara.” The girl next to him waves, and I get a brief flashback to the student council meetings Rowan and I presided over.

“If you haven’t been to one of our meetings before, you can expect some cheap food, excellent camaraderie, and a lot of good old-fashioned word nerdery,” Jay continues, which gets a few laughs. “First things first—who the hell are we? Introduce yourself in any language of your choosing, your year, and where you’re from. Let’s see if we can get through the whole room without repeating any languages.” A clearing of his throat, and then: “Soy Jay y nací en Miami, pero Nueva York es mi hogar.”

Chinara goes next, introducing herself in what I believe is Danish. We go around the room, some students speaking in what might be their native tongues, others in learned languages. A guy named Tyler picks English and everyone laugh-groans, and then he says, “What, you didn’t say English was off-limits!”

When it’s my turn, I stumble for a moment. I took AP Spanish, French, and Latin in high school, much to my counselors’ horror. The only language I know that hasn’t been used yet is Italian, but I’m far from conversational in it. Still, if there were any time to give it a try, that would be now.

“Mi chiamo Neil, vengo da Seattle, e sono… un primo anno?” Imperfect, probably, but everyone seems to understand.

“Excelente!” Jay says. “Moving on. Last year, we got into a lot of arguments about language versus perception and which affects which—and no, Tyler, we’re not bringing it up again yet. We don’t want to scare the newbies away.”

Tyler puts his hand back down.

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