Kids were already crammed inside, the cabin door open and spilling light and warmth out into the snow. The orange light was a shifting triangle on the sidewalk, windows showing dozens of heads all circled around a semi-stage in the corner. And here, we were five minutes early.
Ethan and I crowded in behind some junior dancers—an easy tell, seeing as they all had annoyingly perfect posture—and waited for the show. Elisa was at rehearsal and Oliver was studying, so it was just the two of us. The two of us, until I spotted Chris’s fedora over in the corner. He looked over the moment I spotted him. When he waved, I knew the duo was about to become a trio.
I hadn’t seen nor spoken to Chris outside of class since telling Ethan about Brad. My gut turned when Chris began pushing through the crowd toward us. Telling Ethan had made me feel a small amount better, but the past was still way too close to the surface for comfort. Walking down that memory lane had pretty much ensured my walls were back at full height.
“How’s it going?” Chris asked when he neared us. The dancers did not look too pleased when he brushed past them. Though they definitely did an appraising over-the-shoulder glance when he went by.
“Fine,” Ethan and I replied in unison.
“Whoa, that was creepy. How much time have you been spending together?”
“Too much,” Ethan said. “Thesis work.”
“I hear you,” he replied. But he didn’t get a chance to empathize further; at that moment, the lights dimmed and the crowd hushed and Jonathan took to the stage.
The first time Jonathan hosted Coffee House, I thought it was strange it hadn’t been done by a theatre faculty member. Then he started talking, and I realized that his minor in theatre (so he could retell stories more effectively) hadn’t gone to waste. Tonight, he’d changed from his usual tweed blazer into a sleek ensemble of black slacks and a royal blue button-down. The sleeves were rolled up, showing even more of his tattoos than usual. I wondered if one of his goals in undergrad was to become a hot professor—he’d certainly cultivated the look.
“Evening friends,” he said when the room went quiet. “Thanks for braving the weather for this month’s Coffee House. We’ve got a full lineup tonight that I think you’re going to love. As a quick reminder—no negative shout-outs, please. Keep it classy.” He winked. “Without further ado, we have Kevin and Lisa.”
A boy and girl went up, both of them freshmen I’d only seen at meal times. I think they were both in the theatre program, though the boy was playing guitar and the girl sang this beautiful cover of a pop song I knew I’d have stuck in my head for the next week now. Throughout it all, I was keenly aware of Chris bobbing side to side, his arm occasionally brushing mine. I knew it was just the heat and the closeness of the room, but it felt like my skin was on fire every time he touched me. Oddly enough, these brushes weren’t as unwelcome as I’d expected. It was easy to remember the gravity between us in the teahouse. Just as it was easy to remember the gravity Brad had exerted at the very beginning.
About halfway through, after a surprisingly funny bit of stand-up comedy from a sophomore dance major, Jonathan stepped back onto the stage and announced Chris’s name. I thought it must have been a mistake, or maybe a different Chris, but sure enough, the Chris standing beside me pushed his way through the crowd toward the podium.
“Hey everyone,” Chris said. He didn’t sound uncomfortable like I expected him to—like I would have if I were in his shoes. Instead, he smiled and held his shoulders back and stood up straight, owning every inch of the dim spotlight. “I’m going to sing a song I wrote. I’m afraid I don’t play guitar so it’s gotta be a capella. Hopefully, you can fill in the blanks.”
And he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, nodded his head to some inner rhythm, and began to sing.
I expected it to be awkward. The preliminary embarrassed for you chills crept across my arms. But the kid was good. Really good. He sang about snow and home and the girl he never knew. At first, I thought it was about me. Then, with a flush of misplaced vanity, I realized it was actually about Mandy.
When he was done, I wasn’t the only one with tears in my eyes. I glanced over to Ethan just in time to see him wipe his face with one mittened hand. He sniffed and caught my gaze, his eyebrows going wide in a holy shit that guy can sing expression.
Right? I mouthed through the applause. No time to get into it, though, as Chris was back the next moment with a sheepish grin on his face. The dancer girls in front of us all did the second-look appraisal this time. If he didn’t walk out of here with at least one offer of a date, I’d be surprised.
“What’d you think?” he asked as he sidled up beside me. And yeah, it was kind of nice seeing those curious looks on the dancers turn to disappointment when they saw him lean in to talk to me.
“It was beautiful,” I said. “I didn’t know you were into music.”