Do You Like Me? Circle Yes or No.
“What aren’t you telling me?” Hudson asked the moment he stepped into the quiet room. “I know something’s wrong. Please just tell me.”
My head shot up; I’d been looking at my phone as I waited for him. “Huh?”
“You like me, but—” He threw his arms wide. “You’re sorry about what happened at Michael’s party? There’s nothing to be sorry about. I’m not sorry I kissed you.” He smiled, his eyes shining in the bright lights of the room.
I shushed him. “Close the door.”
I narrowed my eyes at him as he shut the door. I barely dragged myself to this tutoring session, considering the way we’d left it at the beginning of class, but my conversation with Serena had turned me around enough to come. I had a whole speech planned, which was out the window now.
“So, what did you mean by that?” he asked, breaking the serious amount of silence the room provided. “Are you really sorry you kissed me back?”
My heart raced. I took a deep breath in through my nose and blew it out my mouth. The room was unnerving.
“I am sorry. If I led you on in anyway, I’m sorry for that.”
He scoffed as he put his hands on his hips. “You aren’t leading me on, Edie.” He shook his head, his eyes settling on the wall to the left. He shook his head as if he was talking himself out of saying something.
“Can we just agree that this is all we are?” I asked, motioning between the two of us.
Hudson shrugged. “Yeah, sure,” he said, his eyes finding mine.
“That was not a reassuring yeah, sure.”
“I’m good, okay? Promettre.” He took the seat across from me.
“Promise,” I translated.
“But can you at least admit that if I had texted you the same things you texted me after the party, you would have questions?”
I rested my head in my hand, my eyes still on his. “Maybe I would. Probably not, though. I don’t know.”
“Menteuse!” he said with an annoyed laugh.
“Fine, maybe I would be a little interested,” I acquiesced. “But only because I’d be wondering why you even bothered to text me such a nothing statement.”
“Then why did you text me such a nothing statement?” he asked, finally deciding to sit in the chair across from me.
“I don’t know. Because I’m an idiot.” I threw my hands up, letting them drop onto my thighs. This was not going the way I had planned it to go in my head. I was supposed to tell him I was sorry and that we needed to remain friends until I came back from Paris … if he even wanted me when I came back.
“You’re not an idiot,” Hudson said, leaning on his elbows, his fingers reaching for me across the table.
I pulled back just as his fingertips skimmed my forearm. “Don’t defend me to myself.”
He considered me for a moment, his hand still frozen in the spot I’d jerked away from. His head fell forward for a moment before he pulled himself upright. “Fine,” he said, motioning for me to hand him my notebook. “Let’s just get started.”
He flipped through the first few pages, stopping at the beginning of chapitre trois. His thumb tapped the notebook. I could hear his knee bouncing under the table.
“What?” I asked. The air in the room had changed. It was heavy and hard to breathe.
He shook his head as he spoke. “Nothing.” His eyes still on the notebook.
“Je suis désolée,” I said not knowing why, only knowing that something had changed.
He took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair a few times before pulling it back on. “It’s okay, you don’t have to apologize.” His eyes were on his hands now as his fingers twisted together.
“Clearly I do,” I said, my eyes frozen on him. He watched his fingers as I watched him. The silence of the room settling in on us, surrounding us, closing in on me.
The room was getting to me. I began to breathe through my nose—out through my mouth, deep calming breaths. The silence was too heavy, too foreign a feeling. I shut my eyes, willing away the sense that the room was literally closing in on me.
Hudson’s eyes moved from his hands to my face as I leaned my elbows on the table and rested my face in my hands.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, sitting up and pushing away from the table. “You okay?”
I nodded, my eyes closed, my face toward the table. I breathed deeply. In through my nose and out through my mouth, panic quickly rising inside me. “This room—”
“You’re not okay,” he said, coming around to my side of the table. He squatted next to me, his hand on my shoulder.
I breathed deeply once more. In through my nose and out through my mouth.
“Talk to me,” he said, his hand moving from my shoulder to my back.
This had happened to me only once before, during a physics lesson on sound waves where we all took turns wearing noise-canceling headphones. We were each supposed to wear them for about five minutes. I’d lasted less than a minute. The silence too foreign, too uncomfortable. The last time we’d been in this room we talked the entire time, so despite the unease, I had been able to sit through it.
His touch sent goose bumps down my arms. “It’s too quiet in here.” I breathed out the words before taking another deep breath through my nose. “I can’t be in here.”
“Let’s go, then,” he said, standing abruptly and pulling at my arm. “Get up, we’re leaving.”
I let him tug my arm, but I didn’t move.
“Come on.” He dropped my arm and started collecting my things. “There are other places we can study. Wherever you want is fine. Or the library. We can go to Clément’s office or the student center. We can go anywhere, Edie. Want to go to the lab? Your fashion class lab? We can go there—”
He was rambling. His suggestions stringing together into one long word as he stuffed my things into my tote bag. He hiked it onto his shoulder before attempting to lift me out of the chair by my armpit.
“Hudson, stop,” I said, not pulling away but stiffening. “I can stand up on my own.”
“Okay. All right. I’m sorry. I just thought I would help if you needed it. You know, if you were unsteady or something. I just—”
I pushed off the table and stood, my eyes finding his and halting his rambling. I pressed my hand to his chest and he instinctively placed his over mine.
“I’m okay,” I said, squeezing my eyes closed. “This room is just making me feel claustrophobic or something.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have stopped talking. I should have known it would be too quiet or that you might get upset.”
“How could you have possibly known that?” I asked, pressing my fingertips softly into his chest, wanting him to stop rambling. His hand pressed harder into mine and mine into him. I could feel his heartbeat against my palm. I closed my eyes as it pulsed. I could hear it; he was the one that needed to calm down. “Just give me a second.”
“Okay, yeah, right,” he said, pressing my hand to his chest.
“Thanks,” I whispered, my eyes still closed.
“En français,” he whispered back. I could hear the smile in his voice.
“Merci,” I said, a smile pushing at the corners of my mouth.
“De rien.” He breathed out deeply.
“You’re welcome,” I translated.
“I think you’re going to be just fine.” He squeezed my hand again.
I nodded, letting the heat from his chest spread through me, the warmth of his touch pulling me into him. I took a step toward him, opening my eyes into his.
His eyes searched mine, flicking back and forth between them rapidly.
“Are you going to be just fine?” he asked nervously.
I nodded. “Yeah, I think so.” I took another step toward him, pressing my body into our joined hands.
He released my hand, moving his to the nape of my neck. His other hand cupped my face.
I wasn’t sure what was happening, but I knew I wanted it. It felt right. This moment. This feeling right here and right now.
“J’aimerais t’embrasser,” I whispered, my eyes locked on his.
He shook his head, his eyes pleading with me silently.
“No.” I took a step back and out of his grasp, wrapping my arms around my middle. “You’re right.”
He shook his head again, his arms still floating as if I were in them. “I—” he started, dropping his arms.
The silence settled around us once again, but this time I wasn’t going to let it get to me. This time I was going to run.