Page 31 of Prince Material
“Some of us actually like winter sports, you wimp,” Nils shot back with a grin.
“Oh, I love snow. I just thought you would’ve been sick and tired of it by now.”
Nils seemed to consider it. “Nah, not even close. I love the cold.”
“Well, Buffalo should be a good fit, then. From what I understand, they get a buttload of snow each winter. So as the Americans would say, fingers crossed.”
Greg frowned. “You don’t say the same in Dutch?”
I shook my head. “No, we call itduimen, which means thumbing. As in, I’ll be thumbing for you. Which is what the Germans call it as well, though their expression is that they’ll press their thumbs for you.”
“That’s fascinating.” Tore leaned forward. “In Norwegian, we sayfingrene krysset, which is also fingers crossed, but I know in Swedish, it’shålla tummarna, which is holding your thumbs, translated literally. Why does one language mention all fingers and others only thumbs?”
I grinned. “Maybe because the Dutch, Germans, and Swedish are only moderately wishing you luck, whereas the Brits, Americans, and Norwegians are fully on your side? Though I have to say, if you’re really committed to someone’s success, you should probably cross your toes too. Go big or go home, right?”
“Only you would turn well-wishes into a competition,” Greg said with a laugh.
“Hey, I’m just saying, if we’re going to wish Nils luck, we might as well use all available digits. I’m personally willing to cross my eyes too, but that might make this video call a bit challenging.”
“When exactly is the interview?” Tore asked Nils.
“Next Thursday. I’m nervous as hell, but?—”
Nils was cut off by the sound of my door opening.
I turned to see Orson walking in, his backpack slung over one shoulder and wearing that soft, green sweater that made his eyes look like molten chocolate. My heart did that weird flutter thing it had started doing lately whenever he appeared.
He stopped short when he saw me on the call. “Oh, sorry,” he said, already backing toward the door. “My study group was canceled, but I can come back later.”
“No!” The word came out louder than I intended. “I mean, stay. Actually…” I glanced at my friends on screen, who were watching with varying degrees of curiosity. “Would you like to meet some of my friends?”
Orson hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to theother. I could see the uncertainty in his eyes, but also his desire not to make things awkward. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
“You wouldn’t be,” I assured him, patting the space next to me on the bed. “Come on.”
Was I imagining the slight pink tinge to his cheeks as he sat down and settled beside me, his thigh barely brushing against mine? The contact sent a familiar warmth through my body that I tried desperately to ignore.
“Everyone, this is my roommate, Orson,” I said to the screen. “Orson, meet Greg, Nils, and Tore.”
“Hello,” Orson said, giving an awkward little wave that was somehow both dorky and adorable.
“Mate, Floris has told us so much about you,” Greg said warmly. “All good things, I promise.”
“All lies, I’m sure,” Orson said with a self-deprecating smile that made me want to list every wonderful thing about him.
“Actually,” Nils chimed in, “he mentioned you’re the only reason he’s passing calculus.”
I elbowed Orson gently. “See? I give credit where credit’s due.”
“Speaking of credit,” Tore said, “Floris tells us you’re into photography? Got any embarrassing shots of him we can use for blackmail?”
“Oh god,” I groaned, but Orson’s laugh next to me made it worth it.
“Sorry to disappoint, but Floris is annoyingly photogenic,” Orson said. “Even when he’s face-planted in a pile of leaves.”
“That was one time!” I protested, remembering how I had slipped on wet leaves that day and had landed rather inelegantly. Orson had taken some pictures before helping me up. “And I thought we’d agreed to never mention that again.”
Orson tapped his chin. “Funny, that’s not how I remember it. My recollection is that you begged me to forget it ever happened and that I told you I wasn’t sure if I could do that. I made no promises.”
