“Oh, well, never mind, then,” he said as he pushed up onto his toes. Once, twice, three times.
“Did you want something?” I asked, the only question I could seem to get out. There were about a million running through my head, but that was what came out.
“I had something to tell you, and you weren’t answering your phone.”
My phone was across the room, in the same bag as my colored pencils. I hadn’t touched it in hours.
“Who’s celery stalking who now?” I asked as I looked up at him.
He looked back at me with a smile.
“Anytime now, Wes. What did you come over here for?” My stomach tightened. I didn’t wish him around until he was standing in front of me. He was like the answer to a question I didn’t know to ask.
“Oh, right.” He bounced on his toes again once before rocking to his heels. “I came up with code names for us, you know, when we use the transmitter.” He pointed to his ear.
“Code names? What does that mean?”
He laughed as he searched my face. I must have been wearing the thoughts running through my head all over my face. “Code names. Like names to call each other when we use the transmitter.”
I shook my head, still not comprehending what he was trying to say.
“You know, like the Eagle has landed or the Rainbow has left the sky. You know, like that.”
I nodded slowly as I watched his face. He loved that stupid transmitter. The first day he wore it he said it made him feel like a secret service agent and texted me about it the rest of the day. I neglected to tell him that I’d referred to it as the spy kit for years; I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing I used to think it was cool, too.
“Oh-kay,” I said, stretching out the word.
“What are you working on?” he asked, leaning over me. His heather charcoal jacket, the one with the stitched brand logo and perpetually popped collar that looked too good on him, brushed against my bare arm.
I held my breath.
“Who’s gonna wear that?” he asked, turning his head toward me, his eyebrow quirked. His face was so close to mine I could feel his breath on my cheek.
“Probably no one,” I whispered. Not because of the words, but because of the person hearing them. “It’s just an assignment.”
“You get to draw bras as homework?”
“Not exactly, but yes,” I said.
“What else do you have?” He leaned over me again, reaching for a drawing I had already completed. “Please tell me you’re going to make this one?”
I closed my eyes, knowing exactly what he was thinking as he tapped his finger against the sketch. It was a one-piece with layered silk at the hips and shoulders, but sheer everywhere else. Small cherry blossoms covered the groin, but only a sprinkling went up the bodice. It was delicate and revealing.
“I think Clément has this. Are you sure this is an original design?”
“Eww!” I said, scrunching my nose. “Some men can absolutely pull off lingerie, but him…” I shook my head as I pictured Clément in this particular article of clothing. Some things you just couldn’t mentally unsee.
He smiled down at me. “You never know.”
“Thanks for the imagery.”
“Anytime.”
“Well, I’m not making any of these. Sorry.” I smiled as his face fell. He took one last look at the sketch before plopping into the chair at the next table. “Disappointed much?” I asked.
“That’s a tragedy,” he said, shaking his head, swiveling back and forth in the chair. “You’re good at this,” he added before pushing off and sending himself into a full twirl.
“So you’ve said.”
“And I’ll keep saying it,” he said pointedly. “Because it’s true.”
I blushed, smiling at my sketches and then at him. “Didn’t you have something you needed to tell me?”
“Oh, yeah!” He planted his feet and came to a halt facing me. “The nicknames. They’re perfect.”
I sighed loudly, exhaling as I slid down the chair and stretched my legs in front of me. I lifted my arms and folded them over my head. This should be good.
“So I was online, and I found a very scientific way to create a code name. I did yours for you.” He smiled.
“How very generous of you…”
“Yours is Pink Peony,” he said with a smug look. “Mine is Sergeant Style.”
A burst of laughter came from somewhere deep inside me that I rarely tapped into. “How scientific could this system be if that is your nickname? Sergeant Style couldn’t be further from an accurate name for you.”
“Edie, it’s a code name. It isn’t supposed to be spot on. That’s the whole point,” he said as he pushed off the floor again and spun once.
“You seriously tried to get ahold of me for an hour about this, and then when you couldn’t, you somehow celery stalked me to a locked building and then got into the building just to tell me this?”
Hudson’s eyes lit up. He shook his head slowly as he watched me. “Edie,” he said as he leaned into me, his face so close I felt his breath on my cheek again. “You have pencil on your forehead.” He brought his thumb to his mouth and then rubbed it just above my left eyebrow.
I froze, my eyes closed briefly. “You did not just lick your thumb and then touch my face.”
“I sure did,” he said, sitting back and sending himself into another spin in the chair. “And I didn’t celery stalk you; I happened to be in the building the other day and happened to walk by this room and then happened to see the sign-up sheet that said you were here on Friday nights. It’s really all very innocent.”
“Oh…” I don’t know if innocent would be the word I would have used. “How very convenient that all those things happened to take place,” I said, my eyes narrowing as I tried to hold in a smile. “But I don’t believe for one second that you came all the way here, at this time of night, just to tell me about those code names.”
I watched him spin in the chair, my insides twisting in all the best ways. It was obvious he just wanted to see me and as much as my insides loved it, my brain was repeating Paris over and over.
13
Your Enthusiasm Is Showing
“Okay, so I’m going to outer space tomorrow night. Want to meet me there?” Hudson asked as we walked across campus.
I’m going to outer space tomorrow night. Want to meet me there?
I nodded my head as I tried to process what he said, stalling.
“You have no clue what I just said, do you?” He nodded, mirroring me. He gave me a small shove with his shoulder.
“That obvious?” I shielded my eyes from the sun as I looked at him.
“Kinda.” He was already picking up on my blank stares and delayed responses.
“What did you say?” I asked.
“Tell me what you heard first.” He held open the door to the lecture building, ushering me in ahead of him.
The lobby was busy, and I had to squeeze in front of him so that we could stay together.
“I heard I’m going to outer space tomorrow night. Want to meet me there?” I smiled at the ground.
“That’s exactly what I said. I booked us each a seat on the next mission to the Milky Way, and it leaves tomorrow night.”
“Stop,” I whined as I shoved him. “Tell me what you really said.”
“I really said I’m going to outer space tomorrow night. Want to meet me there? Why don’t you believe me?”
I clicked my tongue. “Whatever.”
“What you thought I said is far more interesting than what I actually said.”
“I don’t doubt that.” I held the door to the lecture room. “And for the record, we’re already in the Milky Way…”
“What?” He scrunched his nose.
I laughed. “Earth is in the Milky Way; we could go to another part of the Milky Way if you wanted, but not the Milky Way itself. We’re already here. It’s like saying let’s go to campus
when we’re standing in a building on campus. Campus is the Milky Way, Earth is this building.”
“Say Milky Way again, please.”
I shoved him lightly as we walked down the steps toward the front of the room. Hudson was teaching class today, which was great because ever since Dr. Clément nearly blew out my eardrum that first day, I was scared for my hearing every time he used it.
Hudson extended his hand, and I placed the transmitter in his palm. He slipped it over his head as he continued down the stairs to the front of the room.
“If you want…,” I started, hesitating as my stomach knotted. “My roommate has a volleyball game tonight, and I thought, if you were interested, you might want to go … with me.”
“Yes,” he said without missing a beat.
“You want to go?”
He smiled. “Yes, definitely.”
I bit my bottom lip as my insides happily danced around. “I should probably warn you, I get a little … enthusiastic.”
“There is nothing more I would want to do tonight than watch your enthusiasm,” he said, taking a step away and toward the front of the room.
“Okay, eight o’clock in the big gym in Wyman Hall.”
He hooked his thumbs onto the straps of his backpack and nodded as I slid into my seat.
I fished my notebook and pen out of my bag as people continued to wander in. Rustling papers and desks scuffing against the floor. Notebook pages fluttering open, binder rings snapping closed, pens tapping against desktops.
“Mic check one-two, Pink Peony.” Hudson’s voice was a whisper in my ear. “P.P.”
I smiled at my bag, not wanting to look up at him.
“P.P., do you copy?” I shook my head as I pulled my notebook out of my bag. I didn’t want to laugh and encourage his lame jokes. I’d already told him he was not to refer to me as pee-pee.
“Edie,” he whispered.
I peeked up to see him smiling at me. I mouthed hi.
“Hi,” he breathed into my ear.
* * *
I looked at my watch. It was a quarter to eight, and Hudson was nowhere in sight. I craned my neck to see around Terrance.
“Expecting someone?” Michael asked, his eyes on me as he drank his water.
“Yeah, your mom,” I said before looking at my phone.
Michael shook his head, setting his water bottle on the bottom step of the bleachers. “One game?” he said walking backward onto the court. “Can’t we just have one game of peace and quiet without the two of you making a scene?”
I bristled, but Terrance responded first. “We are the backbone of this team. You guys would be nothing without us.”
I laughed as Michael rested his hands on his hips, staring Terrance down. Terrance quirked his eyebrow, daring Michael to refute.
“Tell me we aren’t the best part of this game,” I said.
Michael shook his head.
“That’s what I thought,” I said.
Michael’s eyes wandered toward the entrance. I followed his gaze and saw Hudson standing just inside the door.
“Hey,” I said, breathier than I wanted as he walked over.
“Hey,” Hudson said, his eyes on me. “That seat taken?” He gestured toward the open bench next to me.
“All yours,” I said.
“Recruiting fans?” Serena asked. I hadn’t seen her approach us.
“Yup,” I said as Hudson settled into the seat next to me, though at a bit more of a distance than I would have liked.
“I love volleyball, you know?” Hudson said, his eyes on the court. “They say baseball is America’s greatest pastime, but I think it’s intramural volleyball. All the way.”
I laughed.
“Who’s your friend, Edie?” Terrance asked, speaking for my small crowd of friends that had gathered around.
“Hudson,” he said with a kind of arching wave. “First-time attendee, longtime fan.”
My eyes shot to Serena’s, and she was already looking at me, her head listed. “So this is Hudson?” she asked, pursing her lips as her head bobbed, barely containing her smile.
“This is Hudson,” he said before I could.
Serena’s eyes landed on me again, her nose scrunched as she rested her hands on her hips. She opened her mouth to speak, but I interrupted.
“Oh, man, would you look at the time.” I looked at my watch and then motioned toward the wall clock. “Game time.” I clapped my hands together.
“Yeah, game time. Go on, get out there and win one for Daddy,” Terrance said, shooing the players away.
“Eww,” Miranda said as she took a few steps backward. “Don’t ever say that again.”
“Agreed,” I said, looking at Terrance. I could feel Hudson’s eyes on me, and it made my stomach somersault.
Terrance shot me a look before turning his attention to Hudson. He extended his hand over me, and Hudson took it. “Terrance Wyler, co–biggest fan of I’d Hit That, the best club volleyball team on campus.”
“Wesley Hudson”—they shook hands—“primary biggest Edie Kits fan, the best—”
“Oh my God,” I said, cutting off Hudson and burying my face in my hands. “This was a bad idea.” I laughed.
Terrance grasped my shoulder, and I peeked at him enough to see a smile exploding on his face as he eyed me. “Is that right?” he asked, squeezing me.
“Absolutely,” Hudson said, his voice serious. “Why, has the position been filled already?”
I laughed again, my face back in my hands.
“No, no, no.” Terrance shook his head sternly. “That position has not been filled in quite some time.” He squeezed my shoulder again.
“Edie’s gone,” I said, muffled through my hands. “She can’t be around the two of you right now.”
Hudson laughed. “But you invited me.”
My head shot up as the referee blew the whistle to start the match.
“Yeah, you invited him, Edie,” Terrance teased.
I shushed them both as Serena prepared to serve.
“Oh, damn,” Terrance said, close to my ear. “Cody with the Cheekbones is gonna have a shit game tonight.”
My eyes darted toward Cody. He was on the far side of the court, outside hitter. He was looking at me, his forehead wrinkled.
“Shit,” I said.
“What’s happening?” Hudson asked, leaning into me and Terrance.
I stiffened.
“Serena is about to score a point for our team,” Terrance whispered, covering for me.
Hudson’s eyes went to the court, but he stayed leaning into the conversation. “When will I know if she scores a—”
I was on my feet before the ref blew the whistle, Terrance beside me. We bumped hips twice, elbows once, and then double high fives: our traditional first-point cheer.
“What was that?” Hudson asked, his eyes sparkling.
“That, my new friend, was the beginning of the end for the other team.” Terrance crossed his arms with a flourish as he smugly returned his attention to the game.
Hudson looked at me. I could sense his smile without looking.
I shrugged, holding my shoulders up. “What? I told you I was enthusiastic.”
“And I told you there was nothing more I wanted to see than your enthusiasm.”
14
We’ll Always Have Paris
I stood at a drafting table attempting to carefully rip a seam. I’d sewn it incorrectly, and now I had to rip it out and try again. Closing this side seam had been a serious pain in my butt.
“Michael’s house is having a party tomorrow night,” Serena said as a means of greeting as she took her position across the table from me. “Michael texted to see if you were going to actually attend one of his parties this semester.”
“Did he?” I asked, looking up at her just as she snapped a picture.
“He did,” she confirmed, leaning onto the table on her forearms. “He asked what you were up to.”
“And what did y
ou tell him? Because you know Friday is my lab night.” I finished ripping out the seam and began picking the pieces of thread from the fabric.
She snapped two more pictures. “You can miss one Friday lab night—it won’t kill you.”
I shrugged. I could miss a lab night, but I didn’t want to miss a lab night. Plus, I was so close to being done. All I had to do was finish the side seam I’d just ripped out and hem the bottom. One or two more Friday nights and it would be finished.
“How are you supposed to take pictures of me finishing this dress if you won’t let me work on it?”
She snapped another set of pictures. “I’ve already gotten some good shots, and I’ll get a ton more when you’re finally able to wear it.”
I sighed. Just thinking about finally getting to wear The Dress was amazing and terrifying at the same time.
“Is Cody going to be there?” I murmured. After the game the night before, despite how much fun it had been, I couldn’t shake the feeling in the pit of my stomach.
“Yeah, maybe,” Serena said knowingly. She shrugged once. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Edie.”
I knew I hadn’t done anything wrong, but it felt like it. I liked Hudson, but I had rules. Cody had been playing by the rules all along, but when it came to Hudson, the rules were the last thing on my mind.
“Hudson told Terrance he was my biggest fan,” I said, warming at the memory.
“It’s pretty goddamn obvious he is.” Serena snapped a picture.
I continued to pick at the cut threads.
“You like him, don’t you?” Serena broke the silence.
“Paris,” I said instinctually, though it hurt this time.
Serena huffed. “Forget Paris for five seconds. Do you like him?”
“Forget Paris? Seriously?”
“Do you like him, though?” she asked.
I cleared my throat. “No,” I lied, lifting my head as I pushed the fabric to the side. “Only as a friend.”
“Liar,” Serena replied. “Admit you like him.”
I crossed my arms. I would not admit that. Admitting that meant there could be a reason to keep me from going to Paris. Admitting that meant the possibility of regret. No. Edie Kits didn’t do regret, at least not big-scale regret.
Meet Me in Outer Space Page 7