To my surprise, she grins at me. “Girl, whodidn’t?”
I glance between the TV and my bedroom door, debating. “Do you mind if I change first?” I ask, ignoring the anxious tick in my chest warning me away from a potentially disastrous interaction.
But Quinn’s nice. And chill. And based on her comments, I don’t think she’s as close with Kinsley and Ava as I initially thought, which is also comforting. It makes me trust her more.
“Go for it,” she says, getting to her feet. “I’m gonna make popcorn.”
I hurry to my room, change into sweats, and throw my hair into a messy bun. By the time I head back out into the living area, the air is saturated with the smell of artificial butter, and my mouth starts to water. Quinn’s back on the couch with ablanket draped over her lap, two identical bowls of popcorn resting on the coffee table and the remote in her hand.
Cautiously, I take the seat beside her, tucking my legs up under me. Although I’ve lived in this apartment for months, I’ve spent little time in the common area. It feels…uncomfortable, but so does every impromptu change to my routine.
Quinn passes me a bowl, and I balance it on my knees. “Thanks.”
“No problem. Now, let’s do this thing,” she says and starts the film. When the music plays the iconic theme, I forget my discomfort and become absorbed in the fantasy saga.
About thirty minutes and half a bag of popcorn later, my phone vibrates on the cushion beside me. Wes’s name on the screen makes me sit up straight, and I swipe open the message.
Wes:I need a second opinion on this whole speech topic ordeal. I’m stumped.
I reread his words before typing out a response, something about the ease of texting—of not having to look him in the eye—making my reply come easier.
Me:You should just pick something that interests you.
I set the phone aside and focus back on the movie. Soon, it vibrates again.
Wes:If only it were that easy. Everything interests me is the problem. What topic are you going with?
I hesitate, feeling nervous about sharing. I tell myself that before long the entire class will know, so I might as well tell one person now. Baby steps.
Me:You can’t laugh…
Wes:Ives, I wouldn’t dream of it.
Taking a deep breath, I tell him my topic.
Me:Okay…it’s The Benefits of Spending Time Alone.
His response comes almost immediately, and my mind wanders back to that second day in class, when I told him I’d rather spend my last twenty-four-hours on earth by myself than with anyone else.
Wes:You really like being alone that much?
I study his question and deliberate my answer. It used to be a very cut and dryyes,but lately…lately I’ve been sensing some kind of subtle shift, one I try not to think about too hard. I just decide to be honest.
Me:I mean, it’s something I’m familiar with. Markham said it’s easiest to speak on something you know a lot about, and I have a lot of experience being on my own.
The moment I send off the message, I realize how pathetic it sounds. I’m practically admitting to Wes that I’m a loser with no friends, and I half expect him to stop responding. I wouldn’t blame him, so I’m shocked when my phone lights up.
Wes:Hmm let me guess, only child? Or is it more of a creative thing? Artists do their best work when they’re alone, don’t they?
Me:I’m not an only child, unfortunately, though I do work best alone…But also, I don’t have a big social circle, I guess.
I send the text and cringe, waiting for him to ask what’s wrong with me? Why don’t I have friends? Why don’t people like me? It must be a foreign concept to Mr. Popular, but once again, he surprises me.
Wes:Well, you have me! Don’t need a much bigger circle than that in my opinion. I’m awesome :p
I stare at his message, a warm, funny feeling stirring in my chest.
Me:And modest lol.
