JACKSON
"Dude, yes. She said that. Goats."
"You're fucking with me," my roommate, Mark Sloan, says as he lies on his bed and twirls his fidget spinner.
"No, I'm not," I say, flopping down on my bed and pulling out my phone. I check a few texts, seeing that a have a slew of them from girls back home in Boston. I don't answer any of them, though, I just go on Twitter to see how the Cubs are doing. "Cubs are up, by the way. And yeah. Number one, her face was beet red. It was so bad, dude. I felt bad."
"You gonna sleep with her?" Mark asks.
I scrunch up my face. "What? No," I say. "Come on. Is that seriously all you think about?"
"Some would say yes," he replies. "A lot of my ex-girlfriends would say yes."
I chuckle. I just met Mark today, but we hit it off. He's a year older than me, so he stayed upstairs while I went down to the floor meeting.
"What did you do while I was gone?" I ask. From everything littering his side of the room, it's clear he didn't bother with cleaning.
"The norm," he says. "Was on YouTube. You're lucky you came in when you did, because any second sooner and you would've seen something you probably don't wanna see. I… tend to find myself in a certain corner of YouTube a lot."
"Don't need to know any more," I say, holding one palm up. "Just don't do it when I'm in the room, and we're cool. And if you could stay off my bed, that'd be great, too."
"Noted," he says, flashing a thumbs-up. "So other than the goat chick, did you see anyone down there who you're interested in?"
"Nah," I say. "I had an eye out, but not really. You never know, though. The year's young."
"Very, very young," Mark says. "I saw a few girls today who looked like they could be your type."
I raise my eyebrows. "What do you think you know about my type?" I ask.
"Tall, dark-haired, mysterious," he says. "I peg you as that kind of man."
I shake my head. "I don't have a type," I say.
"Wrong," he argues. "Every man has a type. So do women. Whether you know it or not, you have a type."
"Whatever," I say, waving him off. I pull up my notepad on my phone and go through my schedule. "What classes do you have tomorrow?" I ask.
"No fucking clue," Mark says. "I signed up for them way back in… I can't even remember. I'll look tomorrow. What do you got?"
I collapse onto my back. "Music theory at 11:20," I say.
I feel his scrutinizing eyes on me. "Music theory what now?" he says. "I thought you were badass pre-med, and now you're taking a music class?"
I roll my eyes. "It's for my GPA," I say. "I gotta keep it up, or else my mom's gonna be up my ass about it for the rest of the year. If I start out good, she'll stop worrying."
He chuckles, but I ignore him.
"Whatever, it'll be fine," I say. "It's gonna be easy. You're gonna be jealous."
Later, when the lights are off and we're trying to fall asleep, the floor meeting keeps replaying in my head. That goat girl - I can't remember her name, so she just has to be goat girl - I feel like I know her from somewhere, but I can't place it. She said she was from Ohio, so I definitely don't know her from home. She's not pre-med… I haven't see her around the fourth floor yet…
"Oh! We were in the same welcome tour," I say, relieved that I finally got it.
"What," Mark says, sounding almost-asleep.
"Doesn't matter," I murmur, turning over on my side. "Don't worry about it."
I wake up around 10am on the first day of classes, feeling well-rested and not nervous at all. I jump in the shower and throw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, then mess around on my phone until it's time to leave. I know DePaul's campus well - seeing as there's a building named after my great-grandpa, I've been coming here for different events most of my life. I could probably navigate campus with my eyes closed, so it doesn't take me long to get to the School of Music.
I'm a little early, which is surprising, but I'd wanted to get out of our room because Mark was singing along to 'Mirror' by Justin Timberlake in the shower. And loudly, too. I figured that I was ready and had nothing better to do in sticking around, so I might as well leave with a few minutes to spare. At least I wouldn't be rushing.
I open the door and notice that the classroom is empty, save for the back of a red-haired head in the middle of the front row. I'm not one to be unfriendly, so I saunter up and deposit my body into the desk beside her, though I don't fit very well.
"Hey, what's up," I say, breaking the silence. I'd felt her eyes on me anyway, and I know who she is. I recognize her from last night. It's goat girl.
I try to make it look like I'm not struggling with how I'm seated, and I end up with my legs straight out in front of me like an idiot. And this isn't comfortable, either.
"The professor's gonna trip on you," she points out, eyebrows raised at what I've done.
"I'm not gonna stay like this." I say. "And what, are you not gonna say hi?"
"Hi," she says tersely.
I can tell she doesn't like me, that wouldn't take a rocket scientist. I'm not sure why, because most girls are drawn to me. It's not egotistical, it's simply a fact. I've been a chick magnet since puberty, and I've thrived off of it. I'd be lying if I said I didn't.
"You live in Clifton, right?" I ask, trying to lessen the tension. I'm looking at her profile and she's pretty. Her skin is clear and her hair is full and shiny. I like the way it lays over her shoulders, all curly and stuff. Of course she lives in Clifton, she was at the meeting, but I just want to get some conversation flowing. I don't like the silence.
"Yeah."
Apparently she does like the silence.
"Thought so. Fourth floor, right? You were at the floor meeting."
"Yes."
Jesus, she really doesn't want to talk to me. I don't care, though. "You have goats," I say, knowing that'll probably get a reaction out of her.
"Yeah that was me. Why are you sitting here?" she says, putting her pencil down with purpose.
Well, damn. She bit my head off, but she turned to look at me instead of ignoring me for the whiteboard. And I'm glad for that, at least. "Thought I recognized you. That hair's kinda hard to miss," I say.
Her eyes lose a bit of their luster as she touches the end of one of her curls. Suddenly, I feel bad for the way I said that, I don't want her to think I'm insulting her.
"What? It's a compliment," I say, trying to make up for it.
For the rest of the class, she really doesn't give me the time of day, but I tell myself that I don't care. I don't know this chick, the fact that she's ignoring me for her apparent crush - Alex Karev - is not a big deal. Well, it's not a big deal until the three of us are put into a group together and I have to deal with her tittering giggles, batting eyelashes, and moon eyes.
As we exchange information, she barely stops talking. Alex says about four words, and April is experiencing word vomit if I ever saw it. It makes me feel a bit of secondhand embarrassment, but at the same time I can't take my eyes off this situation. It's like a car crash.
After class is over, I decide to call her out. She already doesn't like me, so I figure I'm not doing any harm in making that a little bit worse. "So you have a thing for Alex, huh?" I ask.
She hauls her backpack up onto her slight shoulders and the apples of her cheeks flush. "What? No, I don't," she says, much too quickly. So obvious.
"Yeah, okay," I say, rolling my eyes. She was basically all over him back in class, or at least she wanted to be. "Because you weren't totally obvious about it."
"Stop," she says firmly.
"He called you the wrong nickname and you just went with it," I say. I had thought calling her 'Wolfie' would get a smile or a laugh out of her, but it did neither. Then Alex calls her Beethoven, and she falls all over herself for him. He's a douche who doesn't try. What's so special about him? "Beethoven had nothing to do with anything."
"It was funny, so I laughed," she says, her voice clipped.
"Because you like him," I say. Her face is pinched and I can tell she's bothered, but I'm finding enjoyment out of it. I'm not really sure why.
"Shut up," she says. "It's none of your business."
"It kind of is," I say. "I don't want to sit around and watch this for ten weeks!"
She walks away from me, but keeps talking. "Mind your own business!" she throws back at me, one final word. I don't bother with tossing something back, because she's out of earshot now. I just roll my eyes and head back to Clifton, because I have some time in between classes and I need to lay down after all of that.
After my classes are over for the day, I have soccer practice. I met the team a few weeks ago for the pre-season, so it's not really a big deal. We're out on the field for two hours and by the time it's over, I'm sweaty and ready to be at home, showered, and in bed. But on my walk home from Wish Field to Clifton, my phone rings and when I pull it out, I see that it's my mom.
If I don't answer, she'll keep calling. That's a fact. So I might as well get it over with.
"Hey, mom," I say.
"Hi, baby," she says. "Are you tired?"
"I just got done at practice," I say.
"I can hear it in your voice," she says, that familiar coddling tone returning. A wave of gratitude washes over me for the fact that I'm not at home in Boston right now. "Aw, poor boy. You need to go home and get some rest. How was your first day?"
"Good," I say.
"And how's your roommate?" she asks.
"Good," I respond.
"Did you eat enough today?"
"Yeah - mom… seriously?" I say.
"I know, I know," she says. "I'm just worried about you. I've never had you so far away from me before."
"Yeah, except when I was away at boarding school every year…?" I say.
"This is different and you know it," she retorts. "Now you're all big and grown up. You're not coming home again. You're a man now. Not a little boy."
"Yep…" I say.
"Oh, Jackson," she says. "Don't pretend like you have better things to do than talk to your mother. I miss you! Are you missing home?" My pause tells her everything. "Okay, okay, you don't have to say yes. But at least tell me this - are you having a good time?"
"Yeah," I say. "I had a class in great-grandpa's building today."
"How lovely," she says. "I love that."
We talk until I get to the lobby of my building, and I let out a deep breath once I step out of the elevator on the fourth floor. I go into my room, which Mark is absent from for some reason, and come out again once I've taken a shower. There are a few girls in the lobby, so I find my way there to warm up some leftover pizza from last night.
Two redheads and a brunette are sitting in the armchairs, talking animatedly about something. I hear a familiar voice as my pizza heats up, and I turn around to see that it's none other than April sitting there with her knees pulled up to her chest. I can't get the whole of what she's saying, but I hear the name 'Alex' come out of her mouth.
I try not to listen. I really do. But it's hard when I'm standing there doing nothing and they're taking right behind me.
"Do you think he likes you?" the brunette asks.
April scoffs. "No, probably not," she says. Her back is to me, so there's no way she knows I'm here. That's better than her knowing, because then she'd probably just glare at me and the three of them would stop talking until I left. It's not that I'm nosy, but… I am my mother's son.
"Guys never like me back," she continues. "I've had crushes and stuff, but… it's just not worth it. He's not ever gonna see me."
"Don't think like that!" the other redhead encourages. "If you think like that, that's what's gonna happen. So don't do it."
April sighs. "I know. I told myself I wouldn't, but here I am. It's hopeless. It's a vicious cycle."
"You need to get him to see you somehow," the brunette says. "I don't know how, so don't ask me yet. But somehow. I'll think of something.
I roll my eyes and sigh as I walk out, which creates a short silence from the three girls. I had planned on eating in there, but changed my mind after I realized what I'd have to bear witness to. I don't want to hear them prattle on about Alex - the douche king of all douches - while I try to stomach day-old pizza. I don't want to throw up everywhere.
During week 2, the weather stops being so insanely hot and I can sit inside the School of Music without dying. Once again, I'm early to class, if only to get away from Mark and the weird videos he watches on YouTube.
When I push open the door, I hear piano music coming from inside. At first I think it's Professor Torres and start to inch back out the door, but then I notice that it's not her - it's April.
She has her back faced to me, and she can't hear the door come open because of the music she's playing. I sneak in, put my stuff in our group's corner, then walk up behind her. She honestly doesn't hear me, she's so lost in what she's doing. She only notices me when I slide in next to her on the piano bench.
"Oh, my god!" she shrieks, fumbling the notes on the keyboard with a clang. "You scared me. Don't do that. God, Jackson. Don't do that to people."
She holds her heart, and I can't help but laugh. "Sorry," I say.
"You're not," she replies.
"You're right, I'm not," I say. "What were you playing?"
"You don't care," she says, scooting away from me.
"Yeah, I do," I say. "It was pretty."
"Fine," she says. "It's called Meine Freuden, by Chopin and Liszt."
"You were really good at it," I say.
"I know," she says, snapping instinctively. But, much to my surprise, she pulls back. "Sorry. Um… thank you."
I nod. "No problem. So… you play a lot? How do you play at school? Since you obviously can't have a piano in your room."
She chuckles a little bit, resting her fingers on the keys. "I come to practice rooms here in this building," she says. "I play a lot before this class starts, after I eat." She shrugs. "Usually no one sneaks up on me like you did."
"Well, I'm not like most people," I say, and she rolls her eyes. "Hey, I've been meaning to tell you. We were in the same welcome tour group."
"Oh," she says.
"I remember you from it," I say. "Do you remember seeing me?"
She shakes her head. "Nope."
"Seems weird," I say. "I've been told I have a very memorable face."
"So you seem to think," she counters. I roll my eyes, and she gets up off the bench. "Jackson, I have to ask you something. And it's really kinda weird… and I don't know what you'll say. I feel really dumb because I don't know you that well, or really at all, but-"
She's cut off by the sound of the door opening and a trio of girls walks in, all laughing and talking with each other. I look back to her so she'll finish, but her mouth is closed.
"After class," she says. "After class, I'll-" She cuts herself off from talking to me when Alex walks in the room, and she shoots her arm into the air and waves him over. "Alex!" she calls, though the three of us sit in the same spot every day. "Over here."
The project that the three of us are working on has to do with movie scores. What kinds of sounds go with what movies, and what kind of sound we'd put in a movie of our lives. April is working on writing down the plan on a sheet of paper, Alex is leaned back in his chair smacking his gum, and I'm watching them both with sick fascination.
How can she like this creep?
"So, Alex," she says, after we've decided what movies we're going to study and have a few minutes of downtime. "What kind of… um, what kind of music do you listen to?"
His eyes dart to her, then away again. "I don't know," he says. "I don't really listen to music."
"Oh, right," she says, stumbling now. "I think you've said that before. I-I… that's cool. I can see that."
"I like R&B," I say, inserting myself. "Childish Gambino, Mary J. Blige, anything really. You know what, throw some old Britney in there. That's my shit."
April looks at me briefly with a dubious expression on her face, then directs her eyes back to Alex.
"I'm not huge on listening to music, either," she says, but I don't let her finish.
"April, you live, breathe, and shit music," I say.
She narrows her eyes. "Stop," she hisses. "Not all the time. I can see why he wouldn't like it. Sometimes it's… I don't know. Silence is nice, too."
"Yeah," Alex says pointedly. "Key word there is silence."
"Oh," she says, and I feel myself bristle with annoyance.
"What are your favorite movies, April?" I ask, just to get on Alex's nerves. If he wants silence, I'll get her talking.
"Oh, I don't know," she says, fiddling with her mechanical pencil.
"Come on," I say. "I know you have at least a few."
"I don't know…" she says again, trailing off. "Well, I do really like Beaches. With Bette Midler?"
"A classic," I say. "I cry every time."
Her face lights up. "Don't hate me. But I really, really like Soul Surfer."
I sigh deeply. "April."
"I know, I know! Carrie Underwood brings it down. But the rest of it is amazing!"
"I stopped listening after you said Carrie Underwood," I say. "Give me one more favorite movie, or else I'm… I don't know. I'm sacrificing you to the DePaul gods. Or Father Holtschneider, whoever I can get to first."
She rolls her eyes. Father Holtschneider is DePaul's president who everyone loves. "You know he wouldn't hurt a fly," she says.
"He's been celibate a long time…" I say. "The man has some pent up rage."
"Jackson!" she scolds, shaking her head. "Don't say that."
"Come on," I say. "It was funny."
She shakes her head.
"A little funny?" I ask.
"How about you both shut up?" Alex chimes in, scowling.
April looks at him with apologetic alarm, and I want so badly to kick him from under the table. Her eyes are shining as she watches that douchenozzle, and I want to throttle them both. Alex, because he's a jerk. April, because she's blind.
A while later, she tries to get him to talk again. Someone must have given her the advice to get him talking, because this feels very forced.
"So, what do you like to do for fun?" she asks.
Alex is quiet, staring down at the blank sheet of paper in front of him. Mine is full of ideas, actually, and so is April's, of course. But he's done nothing. I wish I was surprised.
"Dude, she's asking you," I say, nudging the desk.
"Me?" he says. "Oh. I don't know. Play video games. Smoke, hang out, I don't know."
I raise my eyebrows and can't help but judge him. I'm a lot of things, but I'm not a stoner. My mom would fucking kill me, number one. Number two, I wouldn't be able to play soccer. Number three, I'm pre-med. I'm not an idiot.
"Sounds cool," she says, nodding. I can tell she wants him to return the question, but he won't. In a situation like this, I would cut in and return it for him, but I don't feel like picking up his slack anymore. Plus, I want her to see what an ass he is.
When class is over, I walk out first and April catches up with me. "Hey," she says, a little scolding, a little breathless. "I said I had something to talk to you about."
I had forgotten. I just wanted to get out of there. "Oh, yeah," I say. "My bad."
We don't normally leave together, but today she follows where I lead. And I'm going to the Student Center to get lunch.
"So, I mean, obviously I have a crush on Alex," she says, her voice barely discernible.
"Oh, really?" I ask. "Didn't notice."
She groans.
"Continue," I say.
"So, whatever. I have… a thing for him, I guess. And you can say whatever you want, I already know what you're thinking. You don't hide your facial expressions well," she says.
"No one said I was trying," I say.
"Okay, well," she says, then blows some air out of her nose. "You know… what type of girls Alex's type goes for."
"Bimbos," I say.
She gives me a nasty glare. "Don't say stuff like that."
"Okay, so what do you want me to say then?" I ask.
"You can't say bimbos," she says. "That's so sexist. And misogynist. You know what? Never mind."
She starts to walk away, and I realize that I'm being an ass. "April, wait," I say, fast-walking to catch up with her. "Come on. Slow down. I'm sorry, that was a poor choice of words."
"Not very feminist of you," she says.
"I…" I clear my throat. I know what I should and shouldn't do in the eyes of feminism all thanks to my mom, and I definitely knew better than that. I don't know why I said it. "I know. It was my bad. Just keep talking, obviously you have something you wanna say."
She rolls her eyes, seemingly at herself. "The type of girls that Alex's type goes for aren't like me. I'm just not ever gonna be like that. I know that. I'm not stupid, or… or blind, or anything like that. I just really want him to…" She makes eye contact with me, then makes a big groaning sound. "It's stupid, okay? I can't ask you for this. It's stupid, and I can't do it."
"Spit it the fuck out," I say, walking up the stairs to the second floor of the Stu, where all the restaurants are. "Spit it out or I'm pushing you down the stairs."
She grumbles. "You're popular. Okay? You have a personality that people like, though I don't know why, a nice face-"
"Best compliment I've ever gotten," I say. "I'm gonna put that in the yearbook. Jackson Avery, nice face."
"Can you let me talk? I'm trying to ask if you'll, I don't know… I don't know what I'm trying to say. This was so much easier when Amelia was talking about it…"
"You want me to pretend to be your boyfriend so he'll get jealous and notice you," I say plainly. "Simple as that. Am I right?"
She stops walking when we reach the top of the stairs, and I turn around to face her. Her mouth is gaping open slightly and she's wringing her hands, unsure of where to center her eyes.
"Right?" I repeat.
"I mean… well…" she stammers. "I don't know if I meant like that…"
"What's in it for me?" I ask. "If I do it."
She straightens up. She has this part planned. "I'll write all your music theory papers for the whole quarter. The ones we're supposed to do by ourselves."
I nod slowly. "Nice…" I say.
"But… you know what," she says. "This is weird. You don't have to do this. Amelia, when she said it, she made it sound a lot less… arranged marriage."
I shrug. "If you don't wanna do it, I can just give you a thousand bucks for the papers. I'm gonna need those, now that you put it out there."
"A thousand…" She shakes her head vehemently. "No. I'm not taking your money."
"So, fake dating over real money?" I ask, tapping my chin. "Is it worth it, piano girl?"
She leans her weight against the railing, then looks down onto the floor below us before glancing back over her shoulder at me. "You'd really do it?" she asks. "You don't even know me."
"Sounds like that's gonna change," I say. "I'm more worried about you in this equation. We both know you're not my biggest fan."
"No, that's - I… um…" she fumbles.
"It's fine," I say. "It's not like this is real, anyway. You don't have to like me. In fact, you shouldn't. Make me a promise, and we'll do this."
"What?" she asks.
"You can't fall in love with me," I say, watching her pointedly.
She rolls her eyes, saying, "Okay, but that means you can't fall in love with me, either."
"Agreed."
There's a moment of silence where neither of us are really sure what steps to take next. "So… uh, are you gonna go get food?" she asks.
"Yeah, I planned on it," I say. "Did you wanna join me?"
"Oh, no," she says. "I had a late breakfast. Or early lunch. Depending on how you look at it."
"Okay," I say. "See you around, then?"
"Yeah," she says, then her eyes widen. "Oh, god. Oh, god. I didn't think it…" She looks urgently over to me. "He's coming up the stairs. He's coming up the stairs!"
I don't know what to do with myself. "What am I supposed to do?" I hiss.
"Date me!" she demands, waving me over. "Act natural."
Act natural? How the hell am I supposed to act natural? I have to, though. I agreed to it. I just didn't think that it would happen this soon; I thought we'd at least have a chance to discuss things first.
I can see the top of Alex's head ascending the stairs, and before he can get to the top I wind my arm around the small of April's back. We're leaning with our elbows on the railing, looking down, and he's coming up from behind us. With my arm around her, she looks over her shoulder so I can't see her expression, but most likely she makes eye contact with Alex.
"He's looking," she says, without moving her mouth. "Do something!"
What do I do? What the fuck do I do? I've never fake dated someone before. Has anyone? But I guess I've real dated plenty of girls, so I try and think of what I would do naturally.
I lean in. On the way, I get a whiff of how she smells - light and summery - and I find myself breathing her air. In that same split second, I press my lips to her cheek and hold them there, and she leans into me with a smile on her face - I can feel her cheek swell because of it.
When I pull away, she turns around instantly. "Do you think he saw?" she asks quietly.
"I don't know," I say. "Can I go get food now? I'm starving."
Her head quickly darts to me, her eyes wide. "Oh, sure, yeah. Of course," she says. "Thanks for, uh… thanks. For doing this."
I nod and shrug. "Yeah… no problem. Uh, hey. Do you think we should talk about this whole thing? Like rules and whatnot?"
"Rules?" she asks, crossing her arms over her chest. Her eyes skim around the room as she turns over what I've said. "Sure, probably. Do you wanna stop by the lounge tonight?"
"Sounds good," I say.
"I'll make sure Addison and Amelia aren't there," she says. "That way me and you… we can just talk."
"Alright," I say. "I'll see you tonight."
That night, I don't have time to change after soccer - it's getting late because my teammates kept me past the time I wanted to leave. So now, not only am I sweaty and gross on the way to meet April in the fourth floor lounge, I'm hungry too.
But I guarantee she's the type of person who goes to bed early, and I don't want to keep her up. She told me that she has classes in the morning at 8am. And that sounds like hell. So I quicken my pace a little to see the back of her ponytail, sitting in the lounge alone as she looks down at something on her lap.
I trot in, my big athletic bag over my arm, then let it slump to the floor. That makes her jump and hold the paper that she'd been looking at, which I can now see is sheet music.
"Whatcha lookin' at?" I ask, plopping down in a chair across from her.
She tucks it away into a folder carefully. "Oh, nothing," she says. "Just a piano piece."
I stretch my arms over the back of the chair. "I think I could play piano, if I tried," I say.
She rolls her eyes. "It's harder than it looks."
"Yeah, sure. But I'm good at a lot of stuff. I think I could do it."
"Well, I'm not going to teach you," she says. "I'm already going to hold up one end of this deal, and that's doing your papers. That's enough."
I smile a little bit, wiping the excess sweat that hasn't already dried from my forehead. "Fine, fine," I say.
"You just came from soccer," she notes. "You play? Well, obviously. Obviously you play. I just didn't know."
"Yeah," I say. "I play forward."
"Fits," she mutters. "You're very forward."
"Good one," I say. "So, are we-" Interrupting my sentence, my stomach growls loud enough to be heard between the both of us. "Goddamn, sorry," I say. "I didn't get a chance to eat."
"Oh, are you hungry?" she asks.
"No, it's fine," I say. "I'll be fine."
"You were just at practice," she says. "You have to be dying if the last time you ate was when I left you at the Stu. Here," she says, tossing me a Luna bar from her purse. "Just to tide you over."
"Hey, thanks," I say, ripping it open. "So, as I was saying. I think we should have some ground rules for all this. If we don't, it's gonna get messy."
"Messy how?" she asks, crossing her legs.
"Messy, just…" I eye her. I can tell she doesn't know, so I don't want to tell her. "It just would," I say. "Trust me. We need to have rules."
"Okay," she says. "Here are mine. I'm only writing big papers for you. Reflections and stuff, I won't do. They're way too easy. But the ones that hold a lot of weight, I'll write those. And I know how to make it sound unlike myself, so you don't have to worry about getting caught."
"Okay…" I say. "The rules between us should be something like… we hold this up until it grabs Alex's attention or until the end of the quarter. After music theory ends, dude, you probably won't ever see him again."
She tips her head back and forth. "It's a small campus," she says.
"He'll disappear, I guarantee you," I say.
"Fine," she says. "That's reasonable."
I sigh. "And this can't just be… a thing in front of Alex, you know."
Her eyes light up. She does know. "If we just do it front of him, he's going to catch on that it's fake," she says. "It has to be fake for everyone."
I nod slowly. "Are you okay with that?"
She narrows her eyes. "Uh, I asked you to do this, remember?" she snaps. "Are you okay with it?"
"Yeah," I say. "I don't mind. I'm getting my papers written, that's all I'm thinking about."
"Good," she says. "So out in the open, we're officially dating. As far as anyone knows. What's our story?"
"Our story?"
"We have to have a story," she insists, leaning forward. "How we met. Who asked who. That kinda stuff."
I raise my eyebrows. "We met in music theory," I say. "Well, technically we met on the welcome tour. But you don't remember me."
"I didn't even see you."
"My point," I say, laughing. "I don't know, we met in music theory. I… thought you were hot, gave you my number. But you didn't call me."
She scoffs. "Why wouldn't I call you?" she says.
"Would you?" I ask.
She pushes her lips out and sits back in her chair, one arm on either armrest, which opens up her body. "Probably not," she admits.
"See," I say.
"Whatever," she says, brushing me off. "I didn't call you, then what?"
"I mean, we live on the same floor. I cornered you and won you over with my irresistible Avery sparkle."
"I'm going to vomit."
"Oh, shut up," I say. "It's believable."
"For who?" she counters.
"Plenty of people, just go with it," I say.
She narrows her eyes. "I'm gonna say I made you wait."
"It's week 2," I say. "How long could you have possibly made me wait for, 24 hours?"
"Yes," she says.
I laugh and shake my head. "What about PDA?" I ask.
She seems blanched by the question. Her eyes flit everywhere in the room except for on mine, and she can't seem to come up with an answer - her mouth keeps opening and closing with no sound escaping.
"Are you okay with it?" I ask.
"I mean, I should be," she says, sounding very unsure.
"I'm not not sure how this is gonna work if PDA isn't involved," I say. "You know?"
"Y-yeah…" she says, hands clasped together. "Yeah, I'm good with it."
"So… what," I say. "Holding hands, arms on you, hair touching… kissing?" She glances at me briefly. "Have you ever kissed somebody before?"
She jumps to her own defense. "Of course I have," she barks.
"Don't bite my head off, Jesus," I say. "I was just asking."
She's quiet for a moment, biting the inside of her lip as she stares at the carpet that must have become very interesting all of a sudden. "One person," she says. "Once. Behind the blue slide in fifth grade."
Oh, fuck. She's never kissed anyone - at least not for real.
"Are you… are you sure you wanna do this, April?" I ask. "I don't wanna-"
"It was my idea, I wanna do this," she says. "I'm just gonna need practice." She rubs her temples with her thumb and pointer finger. "God, that sounds so stupid. But… I just don't wanna look like an idiot when I'm kissing you in front of Alex."
When. When. She plans on kissing me in front of Alex. Jesus Christ, this is going to be a mess. But she won't hear that, so I don't bother with saying it again. At this point, I'm just along for the ride.
"So we should practice now," she says. She'd been talking, but I was too much in my own head to hear anything before this.
"Now?" I ask, face pinched. "I'm all gross and sweaty."
"Oh, who cares," she says. "Sweat doesn't scare me."
I sigh and look at her determined face - her eyebrows set in a low, straight line and a little portion of her lower lip pulled into her mouth. "Seriously?" I ask.
"Why not?"
"Well, we can't just do it here in the open," I say. "That's weird."
She stands up, bringing her purse and music folder with her. "Come to my room," she says. "I have a single."
I don't know what makes me follow her, but I do. She unlocks her door and I'm met with the most put-together, organized, and cleanly-decorated dorm room I've ever seen. Well, at least in comparison to mine and Mark's.
"You can sit down wherever," she says. "The bed's fine. It's made."
The room isn't big, I can see that it's made. I chuckle a little bit at her telling me that, but she ignores it. She sets her purse down, kicks off her shoes, and sits down near her pillows with a couple bounces as I stand across from her.
"Taylor Swift," I say, noting her posters. "Hmm."
She eyes me. "What?"
"Nothing," I say, sitting down beside her. "Just… really, two from the 1989 era? When you and I both know that Speak Now and Red blew that out of the water."
She laughs. She tries to stop herself, but she can't help it. "Okay, true," she says, and I think it might be the first time that she's ever willingly agreed with me. She clears her throat after she's done giggling, sits up straight, and turns her body towards me. "So, let's practice."
"I just wanna make sure you're sure…" I say. "This is kinda like your first kiss, I-"
She rolls her eyes. "I already told you, I'm sure," she says. "That stuff doesn't matter. First kiss, so what? I'm in college. I'm not a kid anymore. Are you gonna show me how to do it, or what?"
I take that as my cue to shut up. "Alright then," I say. "Uh…" This is going to be more awkward than I thought. Every time I've kissed a girl before this, it hasn't been so thought out and planned. But with April, everything seems to be that way. I've come to notice that she really enjoys being in control. "C'mere," I say.
She scoots closer and I smell that summery scent again. I'm suddenly self-conscious about how I must smell - grassy and sweaty from being outside - but she doesn't react, even if I do smell bad.
"I wanna make it look natural," she says. "So let's just do it. A lot."
I take her face in my hands, and it's smaller than I anticipated. Her jawbones, resting in my palms, feel so delicate. "You can put your hands anywhere," I say. "You don't have to think about it. Just let them chill somewhere."
She doesn't listen to me, of course. She keeps them clasped together on her lap - which, I guess is anywhere, but I meant on my body. It doesn't look natural if she's all closed off.
I sigh with a hint of annoyance and remove my hands from her face so I can take her wrists and move them to my shoulders. "Here," I say. "Leave them here, let them do what they want. Just go with what you feel."
"Uh, okay," she stammers, and I move my hands back to cup her cheeks.
"I'm gonna kiss you now," I tell her. "Don't keep your eyes open. That's weird."
She giggles a little bit, but I steal the smile from her lips before it can go far. I press my mouth to hers and feel her fingers dig into my shoulders slightly as she takes in a deep, cleansing breath through her nose. I swipe my thumbs over her cheekbones, feeling her eyelashes flutter against my skin, and my heart starts beating a mile a minute when I take notice of how soft her lips are as they move over mine.
We pull apart and her face is flushed. "My first real kiss," she breathes with a smile, and I watch her eyes dart down to my mouth. "Let's do it again."
So we do. Her hands move from my shoulders to either side of my neck, where I feel the cold pads of her fingers trace shapes across my skin. Instead of cupping her jaw, my hands trail down to her waist, which I hold easily and pull her a bit closer to me. When I do that, she makes a small sound into my mouth, so I drag my tongue across her lower lip and she opens her mouth so I can slip it inside.
I pull away almost as soon as I do, though. "Are we gonna French in front of Alex?" I ask.
"I don't know," she says, panting a little. Her pupils are huge - I have no idea what that means, but it's a little scary and a lot hot. "You did it.
"Yeah… sorry," I say. "Got carried away."
"Yeah."
We avoid looking at each other for a moment, then she glances at the clock. "I should… get ready for bed," she says. "Early classes tomorrow."
"Right, right," I say, standing up. "Uh, see you Wednesday."
She raises one hand in a wave and heads toward the bathroom connected to her room. "Wednesday," she repeats. "Be ready to, you know, do it. In front of him. Like, date me."
"I know," I say, and she opens the door to the bathroom just as I'm leaving. It sounds like her suitemates are in there, because I can hear her talking to them.
"April! Your lips are so red… what the hell were you just doing?" one of them asks.
"I- uh…" she stammers. I linger in the doorway so I'll be able to hear. "I was, uh, I was making out with my boyfriend, if you must know," she says.
I smile, one hand on the doorknob. "Night, babe!" I call out.
The last thing I hear is all of them bursting into surprised giggles.