Page 58 of Safety Net
"Every other week," I said. "It's a two-hour ordeal, quick enough to do after lunch or sometimes before games."
Celeste raised her eyebrows. "Every other week? You have to know every ghost tale this town has to offer."
I chuckled. "I do. But each group has a different vibe. Plus, the turnover rate for tour guides is impressive, so each time feels like a fresh experience. And ghost stories never get old."
I held out my cup for her to take while I dug my phone out of my pocket.
"Look." I opened my notes app for this tour. We exchange goods: my drink for my phone.
Celeste's mouth parted as she scrolled through paragraphs and paragraphs of my notes on the tour. I’d written downeverything I learned, making edits whenever I found something in books that contradicted what the tour guide said.
My knee bounced up and down as I waited for the ride to start and for Celeste to finish scrolling through my writing.
"You're in love," she said and handed me back my phone.
My knee paused in mid-bounce. For a moment, I thought she was talking about us, and I didn't know what to confess other than,yes, of course, I've been marching toward that for quite some time when it comes to you. Thank you for clearing the air.
"What are you going to do with it all?" she asked.
"I use it to help come up with new ideas for mystery dinners," I said.
"Your famous mystery dinners," she mused and relaxed into her seat, favoring the armrest closest to me. "People talk about them on campus all the time. Even in the music department. You know everyone, don't you?"
I leaned back too, resting my arm right next to hers. "Not everyone. I just invite everyone. Most come at least once."
"And they have a blast."
"Not you," I said.
"I…. wanted to. I did, but you know…"
"What can I do to convince you to try again?"
"I'm already convinced. I know I want to go because it's…another chance to be close to you." She picked at her nails. "Which is something I really want."
"How close?" I asked because I'm over guessing and wondering if this was just a summer fling she wanted to get out of her system before moving on to bigger and better things once she secured the mentorship.
"Close enough that…" She held onto her necklace, rubbing the star charm like it'd grant her a wish. A frown appeared on her face, deepening wrinkles in her forehead as she struggled to press forward. But Celeste was a fighter. She waded through allher doubts and found the strength to say, "You're the first person I talk to in the morning and last at night. You're the person who's in arm's reach whenever I feel like I'm drowning. The person I want to kiss because it makes the world feel less scary and lonely…. sorry, that's… a lot for the beginning of this... I'm being weird. I haven't learned how to flirt without using music yet. I'm working on it…among other things."
I chuckled. "I happen to like how you flirt, Celeste."
"Oh. Good," she whispered and sniffed. The bus AC cut on as the tour guide climbed in to do a head count. Everyone around us chatted, excited for the trip. We were humming on a different frequency.
"I like that you're quiet," I whispered. "That you care about what you say and how you make people feel. And that's when we're close now, you always want to hold hands. I like that when we kissed, you felt less scared and alone."
"Yeah?"
I smiled and set my cup down between my legs. I'd need two hands for this.
"I like your nose and the way it wrinkles when you don't believe what someone else is saying." I traced my index finger down the bridge of her nose. "I like your graphite smudge fingertips and constant stream of ideas.
"I like how you understand music more than you do people. I like that you believe in the power of stories. I like that when you look at me, you don't see someone who's at the end of his luck. You look at me like I can create as many beginnings as I want."
"Of course, you can. You will."
I shook my head, not wanting to argue and not needing to because none of that stuff mattered right now. Not probation, not hockey, not the future.
"I like it when you look at me like this," I said. "Because when you do, I feel like we're something that'll eventually spill off the pages we've been scribbling on."
