Page 43 of Uncovered
“Whoa. You know how that kills me. Please explain.”
“What’s to explain?” she asks. “I don’t have to like it. I just have to do it.” She throws her head back and drapes her arm across her face dramatically.
“Fair enough,” I tell her, nodding. “But do you really dislike it, or are you just annoyed and frustrated?”
“Can’t all three be true?” she asks.
“Probably,” I concede. “So, what do you hate? And don’t say ‘everything.’”
“No fair, you took my answer,” she whines, stealing the last tortilla chip from the bowl.
“That’s because it’s a crap answer. Look, if you can tell me you hate it because it’s poorly executed, or no longer relevant, or lacks sympathetic characters, fine. I can handle all those arguments.”
She fiddles with her pen, twisting it around her fingers like a tiny baton. “I just don’t get it, okay. Ugh. Am I dumb? Like, why does she even like him? He’s not remotely nice to her. And her family is pretty awful. The only decent ones are Jane and Bingley, and they’re a little…”
“Boring?”
“Yes,” she says, wincing.
“They are a little. And I get what you’re saying about Darcy. But look at it a different way. That’s how he’s showing his love. He doesn’t give himself to everyone, but she gets to see it. He shows his true self to Lizzy. He’d do anything for her. Charm like Bingley’s is easy, effortless. But love and admiration from Darcy? That’s earned. And Lizzy’s more than worthy of it.”
“Ok, so maybe you’re right. Maybe,” she says, her lips betraying a smile.
“Wow, such flattery. Alright, let’s work on your paper. Show me your annotations. What trends were you seeing?” She hands me her notebook and I glance at the pages. She’s color-coded everything and she has seriously detailed notes about the characters and literary devices. I’m amazed. A few short weeks ago, she was convinced she couldn’t do this, and now she’s killing it. “This is awesome. What are you planning to focus on?”
Without missing a beat, she smiles. “The social hierarchy and how it affected Lizzy’s choices and her relationship with Darcy.”
“Perfect,” I tell her. “You’ve got a good start here.”
“Yeah?”
“No doubt,” I say, unable to look away from her. I’m completely captivated by this woman. I can’t be, but I am.
“Well, that’s all thanks to you. Somehow, you make all of this,” she gestures to her papers and book, “make sense. You make it less intimidating, even when you’re grumpy.”
I shrug off her compliment. “I barely did anything. You came up with all that on your own. I just steered you in the right direction every once in a while.”
“Well, I’m really glad you did.” She smiles up at me, and I’d do anything to earn that look from her again. It’s addictive. But I don’t deserve it. She needs to be with someone else. Someone who can give her everything I can’t. “So, um, I guess I should get going,” she says, gathering up her things.
She probably should. It’s getting late and I know she likes to catch up on schoolwork on the weekends and hang out with Mel and Ian. But something compels me to say, “Or you could stay.”
She stops shoving her papers into yet another colorful patterned bag and looks up at me.
“Totally up to you. We could order some food, watch a movie--I’ll even let you pick.”
“Well, you just said the magic words.” Her eyes light up and my night just got even better.
***
Two and a half hours later and I’m lying on my couch with Phoebe’s body curled next to mine and her head on my chest. She sawGirls Just Want to Have Funon the streaming menu and lost her damn mind, so we ordered Thai food and feasted while watching Sarah Jessica Parker dance her heart out.
Somewhere near the end, Phoebe fell asleep. I only know this because she stopped answering my endless questions. I still require clarification on the blonde girl’s dinosaur barrettes. And the cricket beret? What is all that about?
I hear my roommates before I see them, and if I had to guess, Whit’s wasted, Booker’s feeling good, and Knox’s probably somewhere in between. Ollie, a friend of Booker’s from the hockey team, trails behind them wearing only a Speedo. I’m not even gonna ask.
I can see the guys make their way into the kitchen and Book has the good sense to tell them that I have a guest and she’s fast asleep. This is probably why he yells, “Guys, be quiet. There’s a sleeping girl in the living room.”
I roll my eyes as Phoebe stirs. As if on instinct, I rub her back and soothe her back to sleep. Whit and Booker stumble their way upstairs, but Knox walks into the living room, his eyebrow raised, as if he’s asking if I know what the hell I’m doing.
