Page 36 of Boiling Point
A tragic misuse of resources, indeed. But I thought, perhaps, it would give me a convenient pretense to see you again.
I could almost feel him there with me—the distant echo of his voice in the words, the relentless pull that made everything else fall away. The room blurred into a backdrop of motion. Students came and went like apparitions, their chaotic energy reduced to a whisper against the steady drumbeat of my pulse.
Since when do you need a pretense?
I don’t.
My heart tripped over itself. The words were simple but charged, sparking a thrill that coursed through me like electricity. I hesitated, biting my lip. I wanted to ask him when I could see him, but fear of seeming too eager held me back for one agonizing moment before desire broke through.
When can I expect to see you then?
I exhaled shakily and waited, the seconds stretching unbearably. Finally, the phone buzzed.
Are you free tomorrow afternoon?
He could have askedRight now?and I would’ve said yes. My pulse rushed in my ears. I tried to stifle it with deep breaths, but giddiness overtook me instead.
Yes.
I winced at the starkness of the message. It felt naked and exposed and true. Vulnerability wrapped tight around anticipation, and my thoughts spun in dizzy circles as I wondered what tomorrow might hold.
If memory serves, you don’t have afternoon classes tomorrow. I’ll plan to pick you up at your apartment at 2 p.m., if that’s convenient.
My mind whirled with infinite possibilities, each more intoxicating than the last. I could hardly contain the surge of elation that made my fingers hover impatiently over the screen.
Car or motorcycle? So I know how to dress.
His reply was swift.
Car. Weather won’t be good for the bike tomorrow. We got lucky this weekend.
I read the message twice, a flush creeping into my cheeks at the unintentional double entendre. My giddiness gave way to shyness, and I paused. I wanted to sound casual, nonchalant—but my excitement seeped into every word.
By the way…the all-black look today was a choice. A good one. Just saying.
I’m pleased you noticed. I do listen, occasionally.
My smile widened.
Is there anything you’d like me to wear?
I stared at the message a second too long before hitting send. Bold. Maybe too bold.
That’s a dangerously loaded question.
I like living on the edge.
There was a pause, and then?—
The safe answer is that green jumper you wore to office hours last week. Very becoming.
My heart skipped.
And the unsafe answer?
Best saved for a time when I can whisper it in your ear.
I bit my lip, my thoughts spinning faster than I could catch them. The urge to see him—to really see him—was rising fast and bright in my chest. I had to redirect.
