Ophelia London - Definitely, Maybe in Love

There were two emails and one voicemail. I checked the emails first. They were both from econ majors blowing me off. Crap. Before playing the voicemail, I braced myself for more bad news. A couple hours ago, I’d emailed Professor Masen a few pages of notes, figuring that would tide him over while I kept searching for a source. I took in a deep breath, then pressed my hand over my free ear, listening to the voicemail. It was some guy from Statistics wanting to form a study group. I saved the message and exhaled in relief.

Not ready to return to the center of the action, I stayed where I was, practically hidden under the last card table where three guys were playing poker. Between their heads, I could make out the top halves of party-goers as they walked by. This view was temporarily obscured when a couple stopped directly over me to make out.

“Hello!” I yelped when the guy stepped on my foot.

Without bothering to remove his tongue from his partner’s throat, he leered at me in acknowledgement, then they stumbled away.

Maybe my location was a little too secluded. If there was a mass evacuation, would I be trampled and left for dead under a table surrounded by chess pieces? Just as I was about to stand up and find Mel, a glimpse of some tousled light hair came into view.

“You can take off, but I’m not ready.”

Through the poker players, I watched Dart Charleston reach into a red tub and pull out an icy can. I could see him pretty well. I could hear him perfectly.

“That’s obvious.”

The guy dealing cards blocked my view of who Dart was with. Whoever it was waved off the drink Dart offered.

“She’s amazing, man.” Dart’s back was to me now, his words less audible. “We’re hanging out tomorrow.”

“She’s clearly into you.” Henry Knightly’s head came into view. He leaned against the card table. I looked to my right where two girls suddenly appeared, watching something on an iPad. To my left was a line of five or six guys wearing nothing but towels around their waists. I was pretty much trapped in place for the time being. Eavesdropping by default.

“Convenient that she lives across the street,” Knightly continued.

I grinned when I realized they were talking about Julia. It wasn’t surprising, but it made me happy that Dart was already smitten.

“What about you?” Dart said. “You’ve met a dozen women tonight and you’re ready to bolt.”

Knightly shook his head. “No one I care to see again.”

Guy-talk was so uninteresting. At least I could report back to Julia that she had a fan in Dart.

Curving myself into a crouched position, I balanced on the balls of my feet, hands gripping my knees, ready to hobble away.

“No one?” Dart said, sounding surprised. “What about Julia’s roommate?”

I froze, staring down at the sidewalk.

“What about her?”

Still concealed behind the card table, I turned to peek in their direction. The sliver of Dart’s face that I could see was grinning. “I don’t have to tell you this, but dude, she’s hot.”

I couldn’t help smiling. Despite my mindset of brains over beauty, it was nice to be thought of as hot. I approved of this Dart guy more and more.

“I don’t remember meeting anyone hot,” Knightly said.

I rolled my eyes, trying not to be insulted.

Dart chuckled good-naturedly. “Whatever, man.”

“If you’re talking about the blond,” Knightly said, crossing his arms, “she’s not my type.”

Lucky me . My legs wobbled, straining from holding a tight crouch.

“The gorgeous type?” Dart asked. “She seems fun and damn smart. You’re saying that’s not your type?”

“Someone like her is not anyone’s type.” Knightly pulled out his phone. “Obviously.”

My mouth fell open.

“I think she’s studying biology,” Dart said. “You’d like—”

“She’s a tree-hugging feminist.”

Wow. How very un original. The comment barely fazed me. Over the past year, I’d been called much worse than the antiquated “tree-hugger.” Coming from someone like Henry Knightly, the slur was practically a compliment. Sure, it was a little weird squatting there, listening to a stranger pick me apart, but nothing he said should matter.

“Your sister gave me an earful the other night,” Knightly said. He stared down at his phone, so I couldn’t hear very clearly, but I swore I heard the words “liberal” and “attention,” maybe even “phony.”

I ground my teeth. What had Lilah been saying to him? And what poison was this guy passing around?

Dart shrugged and took a drink. “Her hair is wicked cool. Those braids.”

Knightly muttered something about ridiculous and dirt, ending with “snakes.”

Oh, no, he didn’t. Say what you will about my politics, but leave my hair out of it.

“Hopeless,” Dart said. As he turned in the direction of the crowd, his expression brightened. “Here comes Julia. I gotta go. Sure you won’t stay?”

“I’m leaving now. See you tomorrow.”

I watched as Dart tossed his can in the trash, attempted to smooth down his unruly hair, then disappeared.

Leaving Knightly standing alone.

He leaned back against the card table, making it wobble. He probably was oblivious to the card game he was disturbing. He was definitely oblivious to the girl five feet away whom he’d managed to insult from head to toe in two minutes flat.

I couldn’t stop myself from replaying his words, his harsh, ugly words. The more they ran through my head, the angrier and more irrational I grew. Phony? Snakes? How dare he? He’s the one who drove a damn Viper.

My lungs started to squeeze, and each breath I pulled in was heavier and faster. My legs really shook now, cutting off circulation to my feet.

Almost out of obligation, I stood.

When he saw me, Henry Knightly’s expression barely changed. There was a hint of mild surprise in his eyes, but otherwise, he seemed unfazed.

A more fainthearted person would have walked away and made a beeline for the nearest keg. But I never cowered from a challenge. As I wove around the tables, nearing him, Knightly pulled his hands from his pockets and took a step back, giving me a wide berth.

“Snakes,” I said, when I was close enough that I knew he could hear.

He tilted his head like he was listening to a child. “Pardon?”

“Just so you know, referring to someone who loves the planet as a tree-hugger is just about the lamest thing I’ve ever heard. This isn’t nineteen-eighty.”

“Loves the planet,” he repeated slowly.

“That’s correct,” I said. “And I’m so sorry you haven’t met anyone hot. Especially someone who isn’t a phony, right?” When he didn’t speak, I shook my head in dismissal and turned away, spotting Mel heading in my direction. “And here’s a piece of advice,” I threw in as I started backing up, “be careful whose opinion you trust.”

“Springer, I have to tell you—”

“Shhh,” I hissed, looping my arm through Mel’s and leading her away from the scene. By the time we reached the bar, I’d told her everything.

“So, to recap,” she said, grabbing a Diet Coke from a tub, “the guy thinks your braids are repulsive.”

“He called them snakes,” I confirmed and took a sip from her can.

“And you care because…?”

“I don’t .” I stroked one of my precious blond ropes between my fingers. “The guy’s toxic, just like Lilah. They’re a perfect couple. You should’ve seen him, standing there with his arms crossed, pinned to his body like he was in a straightjacket. Probably afraid to touch anything that wasn’t properly sterilized.”

I kicked an empty plastic cup that bounced my way.