in clusters, giggling quietly to themselves, chattering above the low music that the cafe was playing.
So what are you going to study? Sophie asked me sincerely, and it was the kind of thing that only a girl who’d been home-schooled would ask. College was just college for me, I would figure out what to do once I got there.
I have no idea. Well, I mean, maybe English, maybe
Psychology. But I’m going to decide at the last minute, I said, wondering if I was the dullest person on earth to them. It feels like that’s the last big decision you ever get to make, you know? Like after that, everything is just settled, it’s all laid out for you. There’s some track you have to follow, from then on.
Blake looked at me with an expression I couldn’t read, with the same intensity in his eyes that he’d had in the line. I tried to stop myself from shivering, hoping he didn’t think I was some commitment-phobic loser.
I think some people just choose their tracks early, Madison chimed in. I’m studying theatre, and I’ve known that I want to be an actress since I was a kid. So maybe it’s all laid out for me, she giggled, and I wondered if she was flirting. In all our discussions about Blake, we’d never thought to wonder what would happen if we actually met him, together.
Hopefully, right? Sophie added. I keep thinking that if we pick what we want to do so early, there has to be something good in store for us.
I thought about her, learning to play the drums at eight years old. There was already something great in store for her, it was just me that couldn’t pick a future. Like the difference between becoming a lawyer or a professor or a therapist was that huge, anyways. I looked down at my hands, wrapped around the cup of coffee that was starting to go cold already. At least they had finally stopped shaking.
I kind of hope I never have to pick one thing, Blake said, looking at Sophie and then back at me. I like thinking that any second, everything could change.
It was the kind of line that sounded like it came from one of his songs, the type of thing that Madison and I would repeat to each other or quote on our Facebook pages, or doodle in tiny letters on the inside of our notebooks. It was what Blake’s songs always did for me -- they made me feel like he could read my mind.
Um, Blake?
The voice came from a girl, probably only fourteen or so. She was standing next to our couch tentatively, clutching a ticket stub between both hands. Her voice was shaking so much that I could hear it unmistakably, and I hoped mine hadn’t been that bad.
I wasn’t expecting Blake’s reaction. Where a second before, he’d been looking at me with a piercing stare, he suddenly whipped his head around, looking at the girl as if she’d just told him the coffee shop was on fire. Scanning the room with his eyes, he reminded me of a trapped animal.
Can I have your autograph?
She looked expectantly at him, waiting for his response, her fingers gripping the ticket like it might blow away.
Sure, he whispered, taking it out of her hand, and turning to me. Do you have a pen?
He asked it quickly, the words rushing out of his mouth as if he were in a hurry. Confused, I looked down at my purse, pulling out items that seemed promising. I wasn’t sure if I had anything. I grabbed an eyeliner pencil and handed it to him, shrugging. Will this work?
He nodded, pressing the pencil lightly to the girl’s ticket and scrawling something illegible, handing it back to her with a quick smile.
The girl squealed loudly, and ran back to her friends, talking excitedly in high-pitched chatter. I watched as her friends eyes widened around the table, and an instant later, she looked over to our couch and pointed.
We have to go, Blake whispered to me, catching Sophie’s eye in the same instant. Come on.
I wasn’t sure if I was included in his escape plan. He started to move before I could even register it, and I was suddenly distracted by the group
So what are you going to study? Sophie asked me sincerely, and it was the kind of thing that only a girl who’d been home-schooled would ask. College was just college for me, I would figure out what to do once I got there.
I have no idea. Well, I mean, maybe English, maybe
Psychology. But I’m going to decide at the last minute, I said, wondering if I was the dullest person on earth to them. It feels like that’s the last big decision you ever get to make, you know? Like after that, everything is just settled, it’s all laid out for you. There’s some track you have to follow, from then on.
Blake looked at me with an expression I couldn’t read, with the same intensity in his eyes that he’d had in the line. I tried to stop myself from shivering, hoping he didn’t think I was some commitment-phobic loser.
I think some people just choose their tracks early, Madison chimed in. I’m studying theatre, and I’ve known that I want to be an actress since I was a kid. So maybe it’s all laid out for me, she giggled, and I wondered if she was flirting. In all our discussions about Blake, we’d never thought to wonder what would happen if we actually met him, together.
Hopefully, right? Sophie added. I keep thinking that if we pick what we want to do so early, there has to be something good in store for us.
I thought about her, learning to play the drums at eight years old. There was already something great in store for her, it was just me that couldn’t pick a future. Like the difference between becoming a lawyer or a professor or a therapist was that huge, anyways. I looked down at my hands, wrapped around the cup of coffee that was starting to go cold already. At least they had finally stopped shaking.
I kind of hope I never have to pick one thing, Blake said, looking at Sophie and then back at me. I like thinking that any second, everything could change.
It was the kind of line that sounded like it came from one of his songs, the type of thing that Madison and I would repeat to each other or quote on our Facebook pages, or doodle in tiny letters on the inside of our notebooks. It was what Blake’s songs always did for me -- they made me feel like he could read my mind.
Um, Blake?
The voice came from a girl, probably only fourteen or so. She was standing next to our couch tentatively, clutching a ticket stub between both hands. Her voice was shaking so much that I could hear it unmistakably, and I hoped mine hadn’t been that bad.
I wasn’t expecting Blake’s reaction. Where a second before, he’d been looking at me with a piercing stare, he suddenly whipped his head around, looking at the girl as if she’d just told him the coffee shop was on fire. Scanning the room with his eyes, he reminded me of a trapped animal.
Can I have your autograph?
She looked expectantly at him, waiting for his response, her fingers gripping the ticket like it might blow away.
Sure, he whispered, taking it out of her hand, and turning to me. Do you have a pen?
He asked it quickly, the words rushing out of his mouth as if he were in a hurry. Confused, I looked down at my purse, pulling out items that seemed promising. I wasn’t sure if I had anything. I grabbed an eyeliner pencil and handed it to him, shrugging. Will this work?
He nodded, pressing the pencil lightly to the girl’s ticket and scrawling something illegible, handing it back to her with a quick smile.
The girl squealed loudly, and ran back to her friends, talking excitedly in high-pitched chatter. I watched as her friends eyes widened around the table, and an instant later, she looked over to our couch and pointed.
We have to go, Blake whispered to me, catching Sophie’s eye in the same instant. Come on.
I wasn’t sure if I was included in his escape plan. He started to move before I could even register it, and I was suddenly distracted by the group
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