cold beer—causing goose bumps to race over my skin.
“Is that okay?” he asks in a low voice. The others aren’t paying attention to us. They’re talking and laughing, and their voices seem to have melted a little into the background.
“Your fingers are cold.”
“Oh, sorry.” He pulls his hands back and blows into them, rubbing them together before returning to his drawing position. The marker glides gently over my arm and his hand is now slightly warmer on my bicep.
“You’re stronger than you look,” Jensen says, gently squeezing my arm.
“I enjoy archery .”
“That’s an interesting hobby.”
“It requires strength and precision.”
“And no social interaction. A very solitary pursuit.”
I never really thought about it before, but he’s correct.
Jensen finishes, pulling away from me and handing the now capped marker back to Ted. I look down at my arm. It’s a butterfly, and I’m not sure how he made something so intricate so quickly and with nothing more than a black sharpie. There are accents on the wings as well as swirls around the butterfly, almost making it appear in motion.
“Wow, that’s really good,” Freya says. Bethany and Freya lean over the table to get a closer look and I hold up my arm for inspection.
“Why a butterfly?” Ted asks.
Jensen glances at me before turning back towards him and answering. “I don’t know. It just felt right.”
Freya is raising her eyebrows at me and Bethany and Ted are throwing each other weird looks, and I’m not really sure what’s happening.
“So,” Freya says. “Ted’s turn!”
Ted pulls his block and reads aloud, “Make sweet, sweet love to a rutabaga.”
“Ted!” Bethany and Freya yell at the same time and Beth throws a pillow from my couch at his head.
Later, after we’ve played a few more rounds and we’ve all put our clothes back on, Freya is helping me clean up the leftover food in the kitchen.
“Sorry we didn’t get around to talking about plan B tonight.” She hands me a plate she’s just cleaned. I dry it and put it away in the cupboard. I don’t have a dishwasher.
Laughter from the living room makes me look over the counter. Bethany and Ted are arguing about something again and making Jensen laugh.
“That’s okay. I had fun.” I’m surprised to discover I’m speaking the truth. I never have fun around people; I’m usually itching to run away and be alone. But perhaps smaller groups are less overwhelming and the fact we are at my house likely adds to my comfort levels.
“We can get together for lunch later this week and come up with a new plan?” she asks, handing me a cup.
“Yes. That sounds good.”
“A plan for what?” Jensen is in the doorway, holding a dirty bowl. Freya takes it from him and dumps it in the sink full of suds.
“A plan for getting her grant back on track since you wussed out on her,” Freya answers. She’s smiling, but Jensen isn’t.
“It’s no big deal. ” I don’t want to create any tension.
“Oh. Right,” he says. He runs a hand through his hair and an expression of concern flickers over his face so quickly, I wonder if I saw it at all because in the next second he’s smiling at us. “Well, thanks for having me over, it was fun.”
“You’re heading home?” Freya asks.
“Yep.”
We exchange goodbyes then he grabs his coat off the rack and heads out the door.
Freya hands me a clean bowl. I dry it and open the cupboard to put it away.
“Seriously, Lucy, what the hell are we going to do now?” she asks.
I can’t help but smile. Sure, I have no idea how I’m going to come up with a viable experiment on emotions, but I’m not worrying about it on my own. Just the ‘we’ in Freya’s sentence makes me feel like everything will be okay. Eventually.
Chapter Eight
If you want something, and really work hard, and take advantage of opportunities, and never give up, you will find a way.
–Jane
“Is that okay?” he asks in a low voice. The others aren’t paying attention to us. They’re talking and laughing, and their voices seem to have melted a little into the background.
“Your fingers are cold.”
“Oh, sorry.” He pulls his hands back and blows into them, rubbing them together before returning to his drawing position. The marker glides gently over my arm and his hand is now slightly warmer on my bicep.
“You’re stronger than you look,” Jensen says, gently squeezing my arm.
“I enjoy archery .”
“That’s an interesting hobby.”
“It requires strength and precision.”
“And no social interaction. A very solitary pursuit.”
I never really thought about it before, but he’s correct.
Jensen finishes, pulling away from me and handing the now capped marker back to Ted. I look down at my arm. It’s a butterfly, and I’m not sure how he made something so intricate so quickly and with nothing more than a black sharpie. There are accents on the wings as well as swirls around the butterfly, almost making it appear in motion.
“Wow, that’s really good,” Freya says. Bethany and Freya lean over the table to get a closer look and I hold up my arm for inspection.
“Why a butterfly?” Ted asks.
Jensen glances at me before turning back towards him and answering. “I don’t know. It just felt right.”
Freya is raising her eyebrows at me and Bethany and Ted are throwing each other weird looks, and I’m not really sure what’s happening.
“So,” Freya says. “Ted’s turn!”
Ted pulls his block and reads aloud, “Make sweet, sweet love to a rutabaga.”
“Ted!” Bethany and Freya yell at the same time and Beth throws a pillow from my couch at his head.
Later, after we’ve played a few more rounds and we’ve all put our clothes back on, Freya is helping me clean up the leftover food in the kitchen.
“Sorry we didn’t get around to talking about plan B tonight.” She hands me a plate she’s just cleaned. I dry it and put it away in the cupboard. I don’t have a dishwasher.
Laughter from the living room makes me look over the counter. Bethany and Ted are arguing about something again and making Jensen laugh.
“That’s okay. I had fun.” I’m surprised to discover I’m speaking the truth. I never have fun around people; I’m usually itching to run away and be alone. But perhaps smaller groups are less overwhelming and the fact we are at my house likely adds to my comfort levels.
“We can get together for lunch later this week and come up with a new plan?” she asks, handing me a cup.
“Yes. That sounds good.”
“A plan for what?” Jensen is in the doorway, holding a dirty bowl. Freya takes it from him and dumps it in the sink full of suds.
“A plan for getting her grant back on track since you wussed out on her,” Freya answers. She’s smiling, but Jensen isn’t.
“It’s no big deal. ” I don’t want to create any tension.
“Oh. Right,” he says. He runs a hand through his hair and an expression of concern flickers over his face so quickly, I wonder if I saw it at all because in the next second he’s smiling at us. “Well, thanks for having me over, it was fun.”
“You’re heading home?” Freya asks.
“Yep.”
We exchange goodbyes then he grabs his coat off the rack and heads out the door.
Freya hands me a clean bowl. I dry it and open the cupboard to put it away.
“Seriously, Lucy, what the hell are we going to do now?” she asks.
I can’t help but smile. Sure, I have no idea how I’m going to come up with a viable experiment on emotions, but I’m not worrying about it on my own. Just the ‘we’ in Freya’s sentence makes me feel like everything will be okay. Eventually.
Chapter Eight
If you want something, and really work hard, and take advantage of opportunities, and never give up, you will find a way.
–Jane
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