“So, then you should have known that I like to be left the hell alone! That I don’t want people seeing me act like, like . . .” I don’t even know how to say what I mean. “No one should have seen that. Because it shouldn’t have happened. You did something,” I say too accusatorially. “I don’t know what, but you did something. Why? Did you need someone to be your big finale, so you had your sister grab the most introverted person you could find to see if you could . . . I don’t know. Break me?”
Esben actually looks hurt, and I feel a hard pang of guilt. He shakes his head over and over. “No, no. God, no . . .” He glances to the side as if searching for what to say.
“What happened that day? You have to tell me,” I plead. “Because I don’t get it, so you must. Why did we . . .” I can’t bring myself to say it. “Go on. Tell me everything, Mr. Esben Baylor. Maybe you think everyone knows you, but I do not know anything about you except that you’re a big jerk.” I hiccup, and he politely does not comment. “So, you start talking right now!” I am so crazy and not nice right now, but it’s impossible to stop the words that spill out.
“Okay.” He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. “I never know who will be involved in any of my projects. Really. Even though there were a lot of people there last week, we were having trouble getting volunteers. I think people get nervous when they’ve been watching me for a while. Besides, it’s usually more interesting with people who haven’t had a lot of time to think about what they’re doing beforehand. Kerry said she just grabbed you from the crowd. It wasn’t planned. Honest.” Esben looks at the floor and rubs the legs of his jeans anxiously.
“It still happened, though.” My voice is gentler than I’d planned. More scared, too, maybe. “It still happened, and I didn’t want it to.”
“If I’d had any idea that you didn’t want to be there . . . I didn’t know anything about you except that you spilled coffee one day.” A half smile peeks out. “I wanted to do that social experiment because I thought it would be a great way to see how two strangers can communicate and feel and maybe even find common ground, all without talking. How prejudgments about others sort of get washed away in the process, how a relationship of sorts happens in that short time. I didn’t know how anything would play out. How could I?” His sincerity is undeniable. “I included the video section of us because something very unique happened. Something that affected me that I was totally unprepared for. You want me to explain it? I don’t know that I can. I just . . .” He’s getting uncomfortable now. “Something about you reeled me in fast. I’m not sure I’ve ever been that hyperfocused on anyone. It’s like you were totally in my head, hearing me, questioning me, comforting me, reaching for me.” Esben laughs with a disbelief that I understand, and he runs a hand through his hair and shifts in his chair.
I scoot back on the bed and help myself to one of his pillows for support. “I may or may not get that,” I admit. “Keep saying things.” I want him to continue talking because the liquor has loosened me up enough that I’m quite enjoying watching how he moves his hands while he speaks, how his voice is a bit husky without being too deep.
“Just because there isn’t a rational explanation for what went down between us doesn’t mean that I can’t appreciate and be grateful for those three minutes. How often are we that moved?” He looks shyly at me. “I did, you know, have other great connections that day. Like the man who must’ve been six and a half feet tall, wearing a bandanna on his head, sporting this studded motorcycle jacket and looking mean as all hell. To be truthful, I was a little scared when he sat down. I’ve got unfair reactions to people, just like anyone. Anyway, I cleared my head as best I could and tried not to assume I was about to be murdered. Then the coolest thing happened. I don’t know why, but at some point, he started giggling. Then so did I. And soon we were both laughing our heads off and having the best time.”
“And apparently he didn’t kill you.”
“He did not.”
I focus on his wrist and the leather and rope bracelets for a while before I move back to that endearing face of his. “And then there was me.”
He nods and leans forward, resting his arms on his legs.
“You kicked a chair,” I point out.
When he smiles, those damn amber eyes of his offer very little to make me angry. “I did. That was out of my control.”
“And flipped a table.”
“Also out of my control.”
“You kissed me.”
“How could I not?” Esben locks eyes with me. Again. “Was I alone in that? Because I’m pretty sure you kissed me, too.”
I am counting the seconds in my head. Six, seven, eight, nine, ten . . . I nod. He’s right, but I can’t say that out loud.
“Wasn’t that kind of beautiful?” he suggests. “It was for me. Maybe not for you, though. I thought it just felt like too much right then, and that’s why you took off. And it’s why I didn’t try to find you after.”
I glance over at the video camera. “You weren’t in psych class on Monday. Were you hiding out?”
“I just wasn’t feeling well.”
“Great. Am I gonna get mono now? Or the bird flu?”
He laughs. “No. Just some late fall allergies that had me feeling rough.”
“Oh.” I fidget with my hands, then face him again. “Sorry you weren’t well.” I study his face until I realize that too many seconds have ticked by, and it’s getting weird. “I hope you’re better now?”
“I’m good.” Esben is calm and steady. “And you weren’t in class on Wednesday. And then you were obviously not happy to see me this morning.” The way he sighs with apology now is totally beyond sweet. “Allison? I am truly sorry that you are upset by all of this. I can take the video down in two seconds.”
I straighten up and look around the room. Something catches my eye, and I scoot off the bed and snatch a small container of microwaveable macaroni and cheese. It takes some squinting for me to read the instructions. “‘Cook for three minutes.’ How ironic.” I rip back the top and take out the foil package of gooey cheese sauce. “Do you have some water?”
Esben raises an eyebrow, and I freeze. “Oh God, I’m sorry.” I glance down at the open container. “Apparently I just got supercrazy hungry when I saw this and grabbed it. How rude of me . . . um, let me just put this back.” I attempt the impossible and try to reseal the mac and cheese.
He laughs. “It’s all right.” Esben takes a bottle from his small fridge and adds water to the cup.
I crawl back to my spot on the bed, now decently mortified. Again. My phone dings. Steffi has messaged me from the party. She’s sent a picture of herself and a good-looking guy in a plaid shirt with the message, “I met me a cutie boy!”
Esben holds out the water bottle. “You might want to have some of this.”
Oh God. “Sorry. I know I’m a little drunk. Or a lot. Either way.” But I take the bottle from his hand and drink. I rub my lips together and watch him watch me.
“Your hair . . . it looks very pretty like that. The curls.”
“Steffi did it.”
“Is Steffi your roommate?”