Page 56 of Under the Weatherman
“It isn’t the newscast that makes me nervous. I used to worry about all the people watching me, but I’ve figured out how to pretend they don’t exist. I’m back in middle school speech class, showing twenty kids how to make pizza dough.”
She grimaced. “Horrible core memory unlocked, thanks.”
“But if everyday, you stood in front of the same twenty kids, showing them how to make a different variety of dough, you’d get over your anxiety, right?”
“I suppose. That’s a really good analogy.” She licked the ice cream off her lips. “I love a good analogy.”
“Well, I’m flattered. Coming from a word nerd such as yourself, that’s high praise.”
“Word nerd? What does that make you?” She narrowed one eye. “Blizzard wizard? Rain brain?”
“See?” With an apologetic glance at my phone, I said, “I should text Bas. Maybe they went to Chelsea’s place.”
Elizabeth snorted. “Not a chance.”
I flicked an eyebrow up. “Why not?”
“In the time she’s lived in that house, she’s never invited a guy over.”
“Never?”
“It’s been a week of firsts though. She gave Bas her phone number and then agreed to go out on a date, so maybe Bas has the key to her heart.”
“Bas has that effect on people. He woos in his sleep.”
“You know this from experience?”
I laughed. “I love the guy, but we would make very poor bedfellows.”
Her laughter melted. “He’s okay, right? I mean Chelsea’s likely to break his heart if he expects too much, but on the off-chance she lets down her guard, will he hurt her?”
“To be honest, I don’t know. He won’t mean to, but he tends to run headfirst into things without a lot of planning. I know he really likes Chelsea, right now. And from what I’ve gathered, that’s about all she’s open for anyway.”
“For now.”
“You think she’ll change her mind?”
She sighed. “Not to discount her experience, but her words and actions aren’t always aligned. If she ever falls in love, she’ll be the last to know.”
“And what about you? Do you feel the same way as her?”
“Not at all. I don’t believe in soul mates and one-true-pairings, but I still hope to find a partner I can share my life with. I want the happy-ever-after.”
That was good to know. Not that it changed anything, but I’d assumed she’d only used me for sex. I didn’t judge anyone for their own choices when it didn’t impact me, but I didn’t want to be a warm body. I craved something different, something real, something lasting. “You’re a romantic.”
“A pragmatic romantic. My parents taught me that love is an action. I appreciated their scientific approach, but at the end of the day, I’m an English student, and I want to believe in castles and deus ex machina and romance heroes.” A pretty flush crept up her cheek. “What about you?”
“Do I believe in romance heroes?”
“Do you believe in love?”
The question was so earnest, it took me by surprise. It sounded like a pop song or every cliché Hallmark movie, but she waited, her lip ever so slightly drawn between her teeth, the only sign this question mattered to her more than she let on. So I considered it just as earnestly.
“I think it would be impossible not to believe love is real. You see people getting struck with it, like lightning, every single day. My own parents still flirt with each other, and so I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Iknowit’s real.”
“But you’ve never experienced it?”
I shook my head. I’d dated a few women, but in the end, it had always been a chemical thing, never spiritual, never true love. “You?”
