The Beautiful Between - Alyssa B. Sheinmel [22]
I’ve been standing in front of the card catalog for more than five minutes now. My hands hang at my sides—I haven’t even pretended to know where to begin, which drawer to reach for. I think I might cry. And I am completely startled to feel a hand on my shoulder. Of course it’s Jeremy. Of course I make an awkward inhaling/grunting noise as I turn to face him, stifling the lump in my throat. I try to play it off.
“You scared me.”
“How?”
“Because I didn’t know anyone was there.”
“Yeah, you looked like you were concentrating pretty hard.”
Sometimes I can’t tell whether he’s teasing me or being serious.
“Listen, Con, I thought I might come over tonight—say around eleven, for a cigarette?” He grins. “See, I’m giving you advance notice. I bet you thought I wasn’t listening.”
The way he’s made this so simple makes me feel foolish for ever having thought it mattered. His hand has slid from my shoulder to my upper arm, and his grip feels warm. It’s something out of a fairy tale: the prince deigns to touch the lowly commoner, making her weak in the knees. I have to extricate myself from his hold before he notices.
“Well, okay. See you later.” I step back, freeing my arm, and bump into the card catalog. One of the drawers slides open. It smells like it hasn’t been opened in years. Now my elbow hurts and my face is hot with embarrassment. Jeremy, the consummate gentleman, pretends not to notice.
“Hey, don’t take it the wrong way, but I couldn’t help noticing you looked kinda lost in physics. Want to study sometime this week, maybe during lunch?”
I’m grateful for the offer, though it occurs to me that it’s just because of lunch today—without Alexis there to stare at, there was no excuse for our sitting next to each other in silence. Studying would cover up the awkwardness.
“Yes, okay, perfect.”
“Okay, see you tonight.”
I wait until he walks away to rub my elbow.
It’s still raining when I walk home from school and still raining when my phone rings at a quarter to eleven. I figure Jeremy’s used to seeing me in my pajamas by now, so I don’t even bother with shoes; I shuffle downstairs in my slippers. Jeremy and I huddle under the awning of the building, just outside the lobby.
“It’s freezing,” he says.
“Yeah, what are we going to do in a few weeks? It’ll be November.” I immediately regret having said this, having admitted to some assumption that this will keep going on. Jeremy doesn’t seem to notice the weight of what I said. He jokes, “We’ll just have to huddle closer.”
I know it’s a joke, but it’s one that, being a girl who has admitted attraction to the boy standing a few feet away from her, I read a lot into. Like, does that mean he thinks that by November we’ll be more likely to be standing close, i.e., hooking up or dating or at least being comfortable buddies who don’t mind getting close to keep warm? Because whether we’re buddies now or not, there’s nothing comfortable going on here. I can’t imagine even taking one step closer to him. The most intimate thing he’s ever done is light a cigarette for me in his mouth together with his own.
God, how come he knows how my father died and I don’t even know if it’s okay to lean against him when I’m cold?
And then, just like that, he gives me something intimate: “Jesus Christ,” he says, and I can see he’s choked up. Visibly choked up. (Obviously, visibly—otherwise, how the hell would I know?)
And having been given this window, I have no idea what to do. And I only have a second to figure it out.
“Jeremy?” I offer dumbly. I’m so flustered; this moment has so much responsibility. A guy like Jeremy Cole is never ruffled. Hell, it’s his job, as prince, to show a good outward appearance at all times. If he is showing this to me, he must either trust me or be so upset that he simply can’t hold it in.
I know he’ll compose himself before he reveals anything. So I just wait.
“Jesus. Christ,” he says