by Mary Frame
My interaction with Jensen results in a slew of unfamiliar emotions. I try to identify them in a logical and scientific manner. Shame. Regret. Embarrassment. Maybe a little of all three. I have the inexplicable and intense impulse to cease all attempts at experiencing anything further, but that would defeat the purpose of this whole venture.
It takes me a full night to regain my impartiality and decompress, but by the next day, I’m ready to move on to plan B.
Even though my plans for obtaining experience in the realm of romance seem dubious at best and extinct at worst, I can still examine other types of relationships. Friendship, for one. With that in mind, I call Freya.
“Good morning Lucy,” she answers. “You’re the only person I know who calls me before eight in the morning. Do you ever sleep?”
“Yes,” I answer.
There’s silence for a second and I think she must be walking to class because it sounds like she’s outside. There’s a slight fizz when the breeze hits the phone.
“Everything going okay? I called you last week and you never called me back,” she says.
“Yes, thank you, I’ve been busy. Can you come over tonight?”
“Um, you’re going to have to give me more than that, Luce. Am I coming over to study? To field inappropriate questions lobbed in my general direction? To stalk Jensen with night vision goggles and cameras?”
“No,” I answer quickly. “My plans regarding my neighbor seem to have been put on hold indefinitely. However, I do wish to discuss possibilities for moving forward. In addition, I wish to pursue a purely platonic relationship with you, and possibly Bethany and Ted in order to enhance my social skills and understanding of various relationships.”
“You wanna be my girlfriend, Lucy?” It sounds like she’s smiling.
I hesitate for a second. Did she understand my usage of the word platonic? Being that she is a pre-law student at a fairly prestigious university, I will have to assume yes.
“Yes?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
After giving her the address and deciding on a time, I hang up and get to work.
I’m not sure exactly how to prepare for a small, intimate gathering, so after researching a bit online, I decide at minimum I need drinks and food. This makes sense because whenever my brother Sam comes over he immediately raids my fridge. Also, Freya seems to possess an inordinate fondness for food.
After shopping and cleaning up, I’m taking the trash out when I run into Jensen coming up the stairs.
I’m determined to assure him that I’m normal and erase any awkwardness that may be a by-product of our conversation yesterday, so I smile as wide as I can. When he sees me, he stops and looks around. I wonder if he’s thinking about running away. Perhaps he’s seeking potential witnesses in case I throw myself at him. My face heats at the thoughts. The sensation is foreign. Am I blushing? There are no mirrors around to confirm my suspicion. I don’t remember ever blushing before.
I remind myself that the best way to get over an anxiety is to face it head on.
“Hello,” I say.
“Hey,” he returns.
“I’m sorry about yesterday,” I tell him. He’s standing at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for me to pass by. I stop on the bottom step so we are nearly eye level and I’m blocking him from going up. “It wasn’t my intention to make you feel uncomfortable.”
“It’s fine, really.” He shifts on his feet and looks around again.
I take a deep breath. “I’m having some friends over tonight. If you would like to stop by, you are more than welcome.”
“Thanks, that’s really nice, but I have plans.”
In the bright sunlight of midday, it’s apparent that although my initial assessment of his eyes were that they are a plain brown, they’re actually dark green. In a stunning burst of clarity, I realize that I think his eyes are pretty. In fact, I think he’s pretty. I’m not only intrigued by him, I’m definitely attracted to him. How odd. I hardly know him. Although I suppose a purely physical response is possible and even common. At least, for most people. It’s a first for me. But if what Freya said was true about everyone and everything finding him attractive, it’s nice to know that in some ways I’m just like everyone else.
“Okay,” I say. Putting my internal revelations aside, I step around him and head towards the big green garbage container at the end of the small driveway.
After heaving the bag into the can, I turn around. He’s still standing at the bottom of the steps, watching me.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
He jolts a little, as if startled. “Yeah, just fine.” Then he disappears up the steps.
***