Page 3 of Sunsets & Other Dangerous Things

The high-pitched scatting of “The HampsterDance Song” filled the classroom, echoing off the ancient wooden floors and matching wood-paneled walls, traveling up the vaulted ceiling and sharply contrasting with the neo-Gothic look of Plattsburgh University. The floor groaned as desks shifted to face the corner of the room, where the sound emanated from the tote byAshley’s desk. Ashley couldn’t recall ever wishing to be smitten from the earth more.

“Ashley, could you please silence your phone?”

She dove for her bag as her phone encouraged everyone to stomp their feet and clap their hands. Everything inside fell to the floor—loose gel pens, her favorite Lisa Frank notepad, a flyer for a party this weekend. Finally, she grasped the hard rectangle and flipped it to silent. She flopped into her seat and dropped her phone onto her desk, mortified. What were the chances Esther heard that?

“As I was saying,” Professor Jenkins continued, “the assignment will be?—”

Ashley’s desk vibrated under her fingers, her phone dancing across the surface as if to mock any hope of ever having a positive standing in this class.

“Ashley,” Professor Jenkins hissed. “Please take that outside.”

Ashley grabbed her phone and scampered from the classroom, leaving a whispered “sorry” as she passed her professor.

She followed the corridor to the common area where the last dregs of daylight lit the stained glass and coated the room in a deep orange. Less than shocked to see her mother in the missed calls, Ashley took a calming breath and sat on a hard, wooden pew to return the call.

“Hi, Mom. Did you need something?” She glanced at the wall clock, doing quick mental math. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“Hey, sweetie. It’s Mom.”

Ashley held the phone away from her face so it wouldn’t pick up her sigh.

“Sorry to wake you. I won’t keep you. I just wanted to know your Christmas plans.” Her mom said this like it was a quick check-in and not the start of a multi-day negotiation process.And the thing about her mom was, despite treating her like a child, she knew Ashley’s real age. Her mom continued to fill the silence while Ashley grasped for something to say. “It’s just we haven’t seen you in so long.” Pans clanged and Schatzi yipped in the background. “Your father and I talked about it and decided to buy your plane ticket home from Romania. Think of it as an early Christmas present.”

Ashley felt a stomach cramp and the start of a headache. They must have saved for months to afford this, and Ashley wasn’t even in Romania. A few years ago, she’d spent exactly three seconds looking at a map while her mom asked when she was coming home for Christmas. So, Ashley did the logical thing and picked a random country as far from Iowa as she dared, declaring she was transferring there for her bachelors. And then a couple years for her masters. And now a lengthy Ph.D. She cringed, realizing the excuse may be running thin, but limited funds as a student made her story about being unable to return each holiday nearly plausible—and put off having to tell them she was never coming back.

“It’s not that I don’t want to come home for Christmas.” Ashley’s class ticked by. She should get back to hear about the next assignment.

“Ashybear, it’s been years. I won’t take no for an answer.”

But she needed her mom to take no for an answer. Just a little longer before she had to say goodbye for good. A classmate came down the hall, followed by a second. Her professor was going to be pissed.

“I’ll see what I can do. Gotta go. Love you, bye.” Ashley hung up before her mom could respond.

She wove through the exiting tide of students. The room was empty save for one person crouched by Ashley’s desk, gathering gel pens off the floor. Her stomach clenched.

Esther.

Ashley squashed her excitement as soon as she recognized it.

“Oh my god, you don’t have to do that.” The creaky floor drowned out her words as she scurried to help Esther. “Thanks for watching my stuff though.”

“Sure, I guess.” Esther snatched the last rogue pen from under the desk just as Ashley reached for it. A faint perfume lingered behind the motion. The earthy vanilla of old books. This was officially the closest she had ever been to Esther. She should write this down somewhere.

Every day, Esther left another tempting crumb, be it a casual comment on cannibalism or the way she smiled like it was a secret. The way she wore these tiny rings but never on her ring fingers or her daily insistence on sporting the loudest black boots, even back when the nights were still hot before the leaf tips colored and a cool breeze stirred over Lake Champlain.

Ashley stood, dusting off her skinny jeans, reeling her libido in, and offering Esther a hand. In that small contact, she registered her Midwest manners betraying her in the worst way.

Everything changed to slow motion.

Esther’s gaze flicked up, sparkling in the overhead lights. Her hand slid into Ashley’s, smooth as silk. Music from the movieTroyplayed in Ashley’s head as Esther rose. The one with a single woman singing mournful vowels accompanied by a booming and unsteady drum, emphasizing the tragic yet epic significance of this moment.

Esther, for her part, seemed not to notice the life-changing contact, her boots stomping as she adjusted her stance and freed her hand from Ashley’s.

“I was waiting for you, actually,” Esther said.

Ashley bit her lip to keep from groaning aloud.Therewas some dialogue she’d rewind later. She was her own worst enemy. Maybe they weren’t enemies to lovers at all. They could be long-lost childhood friends.

“You don’t happen to be from Iowa, do you?”Be cool, Ashley.She planted her hip on a nearby desk.

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