Even with Virgo in the House of Love, you are not comfortable making the first step toward romance.
Nothing happens.
I fully open my eyes to discover that Adam’s face is nowhere near mine. He stopped at the side of the bed, closer to my feet than face.
He wasn’t going to kiss me. I imagined the whole thing. Very unlike me. I must have taken too many painkillers. Shaking my head to clear it, I pick up the papers on my night-stand while Adam takes a seat on the bed.
I feel the mattress dip under him and when he shifts into a comfortable position, his butt is touching my thigh. He doesn’t move. Instead, he ensures that I won’t move either by carefully rearranging the pillow under my ankle. I can’t possibly inch away now and risk messing up the footrest he’s created. I try to relax my thigh, but it’s no use. It’s tensed up and hard as a brick. He probably just thinks I’m buff. Or at least, that my left leg is very buff.
I’m doing an imitation of my father. Staring down at my hands and not talking. Unlike me, who lets the silence burn, Adam lights a fire.
“Does your ankle hurt?” he asks, tracing the edge of the bandage with his finger. Not when you do that, I want to say. It feels great. Amazing, in fact.
“I needed seven stitches.” It’s a non-answer answer.
“Your dad told me when I came in,” he replies. I feel taken aback by the realization he’s not only having lunch with Cherise, but talking to my father as well. “I’m glad you went to the hospital,” Adam says. “Bernie said it might have been really bad if you ignored it.” Bernie? He’s calling my father Bernie?
“Thanks for carrying me to the nurse,” I say, changing the subject away from my father.
“You’re welcome.” Adam smiles. He has an amazing smile. “I can’t even begin to tell you how many girls are now pretending to twist their ankles as I walk down the hall.” He laughs. It’s warm and welcoming and makes me laugh, too. He blushes as he tells me about the crazy freshman girl who threw herself at him and begged him to carry her to the nurse.
“Rumors travel fast.” I shrug with a smile. “I hear they’re calling you Prince Charming.”
“I’ve been called worse.” He laughs again. Suddenly the room brightens. It’s no longer awkward and uncomfortable. I’ve found my speaking voice, and I ask him what other names he’s been called. He shares stories of his old school. Make that schools. Because his father is climbing a corporate ladder, his family moves around a lot. Their last stop was a suburb of San Francisco.
He’s glad to be in Cincinnati because he has cousins who live here. Adam also tells me about the swim team tryouts, sharing that he was such a huge bookworm growing up that his parents forced him to take a swim class to be “more well-rounded.” He liked it and it stuck. He swims as often as he can and being able to join a swim team makes changing schools all the time a little easier since he knows he can make friends in the group.
“Not every school has an academic decathlon team or an astronomy club,” he adds with a grin. “But even at high schools without pools, there’s usually a swim team in the neighborhood.”
It’s at this point in the conversation that I tell him to be wary about Gavin. Adam thanks me for the warning and says he’ll keep his eyes open.
Adam asks questions about me and my family. I find myself opening up. Not entirely, but more than I ever have to a guy. I tell him the basic facts of my life. The date of my mom’s death. The name of my father’s shop. About the science scholarship and what I need to do to win it.
“I can help with the scholarship,” he tells me. “Since I got one to UCLA, I have some good ideas on how to make the board notice you.”
“It’s okay,” I say. “Decisions are coming up soon and there’s nothing left to do but wait. And keep up my grades, of course. Thanks anyways.”
“I’ll do my part to make sure your chem grades are tops,” he tells me. “I learned a few things at my old school about how to make the experiments more efficient. Tell you what, when you’re back in class, I’ll show you a few new tricks.”
I’ve had my own chem lab space for so long, I’ve gotten used to doing things my way. It’ll be interesting to see what Adam can add. “Great,” I say, then take a quick glance at the clock. We’re both surprised to learn that nearly an hour’s passed. It’s time to get started on our homework.
Since I missed the last bit of today’s lab, he shows me his tabulations from today’s titration experiment.
Wow.
He did such a great job. His penmanship is neat and tight, I can read every little notation. And he took such careful notes, there’s nothing missing from his work. It’s a pleasure to study with Adam. Really. I can’t say that about anyone I’ve ever met before. Not even Cherise.
Time flies by, and it isn’t until I hear footsteps in the hall that I realize the doorbell has rung, again.
There’s only one person in the world who takes giant, clomping steps like that. She always has.
“How’s it hanging, Gimpie?” Cherise bops into the room carrying a small lunch bag.
She stops suddenly, seeing that I am not alone, and then says with a cheery lilt in her voice, “Hi, Adam.”
Unlike Adam’s gentle maneuver, Cherise plops down on the other side of me, sandwiching my legs between her and Adam. My right thigh is touching Cherise’s butt, too, but the effect is entirely different. Unpleasant, really. I tell her to skootch over a bit, and she does, but fails to puff my pillow footrest afterward.
“What’re you guys doing?” Cherise asks with a wink, as if we were doing something we shouldn’t have been.
I immediately squash that notion. “Homework,” I tell her.
Cherise looks over at Adam’s titration notes. “Wow!” she exclaims. “Such nice handwriting.” She turns to Adam. “Sylvie’s handwriting stinks. For someone so detail-oriented, you’d think she’d have perfect handwriting, but noooo.” I can see where this is headed and it’s embarrassing. I have no clue how to stop her, though. Cherise continues the story: “When we were in seventh grade, we took a typing class after school together.”
Adam looks at me and I smile sheepishly. I’d like nothing more than to pull the covers over my head.
“The assignment was to type a letter, so we did. Instead of a business letter, we wrote a love letter to the teacher.” Cherise starts to laugh. “We thought we were so funny, we typed some up to all the teachers in school and sent them anonymously.”
Adam laughs and asks, “Did you get caught?”
“Nope!” Cherise exclaims. “But because we couldn’t tell the typing teacher that we wrote the letters, we never got a grade for the assignment.”
“My first and last zero,” I interject.
“Can you believe it, the whole prank was Sylvie’s idea!” Cherise shakes her head.
I accept responsibility with a sigh. Those were the carefree days, before Yale and school and priorities got in the way of having fun. Not that I would want to relive my junior high years, but there were some bright spots. Like the love letters.
After listening to Cherise and Adam chat about the rest of the school day, I decide that it’s time for Adam to leave. It’s that priority thing again. I’m not in junior high any more and my life is on a track that doesn’t include Adam. As cute, nice, and sweet as he may be, he’s gotta go. Eight weeks till graduation, I remind myself. No boys, no parties, definitely no spring dances. Just me and my schoolbooks. Doesn’t that sound like fun?
“Before I forget,” Cherise says to me, interrupting my thoughts, “I brought you some lotions and teas.” She opens the lunch sack she’s been holding and dumps a few unmarked containers onto the bed. “Hypericum, calendula, and bryonia, to help with healing.” She picks up a small box and shows me the tea bag inside. “Rose hips and lemongrass, along with some other herbs to help your body fight infection.”
Adam’s acting like he never plans to leave. He’s opened a tube of lotion and is smelling it.
“What is this?” He seems oddly interested in Cherise’s concoctions.
“Calendula. It’ll help prevent scarring.”
“We wouldn’t want her to have a big scar,” Adam agrees. He puts a little of the cream on his finger and turns to me. “Want me to put it on for you? I’m going to be a doctor, remember?” The way he asks is really sexy.
My brain snaps. “No!” I shout so loudly the walls vibrate. I didn’t expect for it to come out quite that way. “I mean, that’s really nice of you, but I don’t want to unwrap the bandage yet. That and, I’m seriously tired. I’d like to go to the living room and”—gasp, dare I say it?—“drink a cup of Cherise’s healing tea.” I’m overcompensating for my outburst by whispering now.
Without reply, Adam’s closes the tube and sweeps me into his arms for the second time that day. I learned from the morning’s episode not to struggle, argue, or wiggle. Instead, I accept the ride by leaning into his chest and putting my arms around his neck. Our hallway’s very narrow and curves once. I wouldn’t want him to trip and drop me … maybe I should hang on tight just in case.
Cherise follows us out of my room. Adam sets me gingerly on the sofa and asks “Bernie” for a pillow to prop up my ankle. My father flashes me a look that I’ve never seen before—I think it might be akin to a smile—then leads Adam to the hall closet.
The instant Adam is out of earshot, I signal Cherise to come closer. Since Adam doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave and I don’t want to be rude and kick him out, I need to take advantage of the fact that he’s in the hallway.
“Did you tell him about my star chart?!” I whisper to Cherise. “Is he hanging around because you told him that we’re destined to fall in love?”
“Of course not,” Cherise says as if it’s the silliest thing she’s ever heard. “He’s hanging around because you’re a Virgo born on the Libra cusp, and today is Wednesday. I have nothing to do with it.” She’s smiling ear to ear. “But I couldn’t have picked a better match for you if I tried! He’s perfect. Perfectly right for you. Adam is your diamond guy, for sure.”
“What about the fact that he’s going to California for college and I’m going to Connecticut,” I counter. “How can my perfect guy go clear across the whole country after graduation?” I’m clearly grasping for straws here. First, he isn’t my diamond guy. I don’t have a diamond guy. Second, he just isn’t. That’s all.
“Small details.” Cherise shrugs. “These things have a way of working themselves out.” She hands me a piece of paper with a bunch of numbers on it. The number 4 is circled in red.
“When I got home from school today, I planned to review your astrological chart. I got caught up in numerology and, well,” she raises her eyebrows, “all the signs indicate the same thing. Cross-referencing your solar chart with your Soul Urge number, it’s clear that Adam is going to ask you to the Spring Fling Prom.”
I’m guessing my Soul Urge number is four, which would explain the red Magic Marker. I have to stop myself from laughing. “Is this phase two?” I ask.
“Of course,” Cherise responds in all seriousness. “Phase one was that you’d find your guy on Wednesday and phase two is that he asks you to the dance.” She seems so certain of herself. “So? Has he asked you out yet?” she asks. “He’s been here for a while already.”
“No,” I protest. “And he’s not going to. We’re friends. That’s all.”
“Sure you are,” Cherise says with a wink. “Soul Urge numbers never lie. And according to the rotation of the sun, when Neptune’s moon is high in the sky, a guy who loves you and whom you love will ask you to dance.”
I know exactly where she is headed. Ignoring the whole, “guy who loves you and whom you love part,” I tell Cherise, “There is no possible way that Adam’s going to ask me to the Spring Fling Prom today.” It’s time to enlighten her astrology with astronomy. “Cherise,” I say, “hate to burst your bubble but Neptune has eight moons, not one. Your ‘high in the sky’ theory is meaningless.”
Cherise gets a thoughtful look and says, “Now that I am thinking about it, maybe you’re right …” Her voice tapers off.
“Aha!” I cheer. Oops. My voice was a little loud there. I lower it and continue. “I told you that just because Adam coincidentally started school today does not mean that we are going to fall in love or go to prom together! I knew you’d come around!”
“Whoa. Now you’re talking nonsense.” Cherise giggles. “You’re only right in that he probably won’t ask you to prom today. Now that I am thinking about it, Neptune’s moon isn’t high yet, so we have to rely on the Soul Number alone to get us through till then.” She nods her head as if she’s come to a very important discovery. “Not to prom, yet, but he will ask you out for a regular date before the day is over.”
Did she miss the part about Neptune having eight moons?
Before Cherise drives me totally batty, it’s time to make a deal. I pause for a second and listen down the hall to make sure Adam isn’t headed back. It sounds like my father’s showing him my baby pictures. I should start screaming like a maniac to draw their attention away from the album, but I need the time to bargain with Cherise. I’m going to have to talk fast.
“Look,” I say to Cherise, “I’ll make you a deal. If Adam asks me out before today is over, I’ll agree to go along with your ‘predictions’ and give the relationship a chance.”
This is the easiest pledge I’ve ever made. I’m good at math, and the statistical probability of Adam asking me for a date is less than nil.
“You won’t intentionally repel him?” Cherise asks, staring at me. “You’ll admit that the stars are right? You’ll open yourself up to the possibility of true love?”
“Sure. I’ll even go to the prom, if Adam asks me to.” I pin her with my gaze. Now it’s my turn. “However,” I begin, “Wednesday is over in another”—I check the clock hanging on the wall—“five hours and fifty-five minutes. If Adam hasn’t asked me out by midnight tonight, then you must promise to rip up my star chart, admit that there is no diamond guy in my near future, and that your past predictions have been nothing more than luck.” I pause, then add, “Oh, and you have to join the astronomy club with me.”
“Done,” she says and reaches out her hand for me to shake it.
This is the easiest bargain I’ve ever struck. Adam has barely been at school yet. He hasn’t had a chance to check out the other girls in our class, or the underclassmen, for that matter. This is a bet I can’t lose.
How can I be so sure?
The guys who have asked me out in the past, and whom I’ve turned down, have all been a bit geeky, like me. Adam may like astronomy and chemistry, but he’s no geek. Guys like Adam, well, they never, ever, ever, date girls like me. We’re good for friendships, but not romance. I’m a background kind of girl and we background girls don’t get asked out by popular guys. Like Tanisha and Jennifer told me, it took him only one day and he’s already the most popular guy in school.
A noise in the hall catches my attention. Back on task, I hear my father rustling around in the closet trying to get the pillow off the top shelf. Adam laughs at something my father says and I’m stunned at the sound of the two of them palling around. Like the tuxedos he sells, my father’s usually dark and serious.
“Did you say five hours and fifty-five minutes till midnight?” Cherise asks me with a satisfied grin. I look at my watch again. “Five hours and fifty-two minutes,” I reply with an equally satisfied look on my face. “The day’s almost over.”
“Plenty of time,” she retorts and just then, Adam and my father emerge from the hallway. Adam’s carrying a pillow.
“Well.” Cherise gives me a wink. “Since I can see you’re being taken care of, I’m gonna dash.” She obviously intends to leave Adam and me alone.
Cherise gives my father the tea bag and directions to prepare it. My father’s used to Cherise’s teas and doesn’t bat an eye at her instructions. He just nods and assures her he’ll take care of it.
Her plan fails. As Cherise is leaving, Adam says, “Actually, I’ve gotta run, too. Wait for me, Cherise. I’ll walk out with you.” He comes over to the couch and kneels down beside me. He gently sets the pillow from the hall closet under my foot. Adam gets his backpack from my room and heads to the apartment door where Cherise is standing.
She appears oddly unconcerned when she should be worried. It’s over. I win.
My father’s in the kitchen. There’s no way Adam’s going to ask me out now. Not with everyone around. Plus, he’s clearly leaving. He even says good-bye. I make a big show of announcing that I’m going to take another painkiller then go directly to sleep, just in case he plans to call later. Not that I believe he will, I just want to make certain he won’t.
Adam opens the door. He steps one foot out into the hall.
Fire up the paper shredder! My star chart is about to get torn up. I hope Cherise is interested in black holes. She’s going to be studying them with me in astronomy club Monday night.
I’m so certain that I’ve made a date-free getaway that I’m completely thrown off guard when Adam suddenly turns back to me and casually asks, in front of everyone, “Want to go out Saturday night?”
I’m completely stunned. I make him repeat the question. “What did you say?”
“Do you want to go on a date with me Saturday night?” he asks again.
I feel the blood drain from my face. Cherise on the other hand has turned pink, her skin glowing with utter joy at having made a lucky guess once again. Although now, I suppose, I am going to have to call it a prediction, without the quote marks and added sarcasm.
“Sure,” I tell Adam, with a tinge of resignation. In another time and place, I really would love to, but now isn’t that time or place. Not so close to the end of school with so much in the balance. Then again, a promise is a promise. I told Cherise that if Adam asked me out today, I’d go. And I will. I promised that I’d open myself up to the possibility that this could be the “right” guy for me and … sigh … I will. If things don’t work out, then you can blame someone else because I won’t intentionally repel him. I swore I wouldn’t and I am good to my word.
The bummer of this all is not the date. For a split second, I look across my living room, into Adam’s gorgeous eyes, and think: This certainly isn’t the worst deal I’ve ever made with Cherise. Not by a long shot.…
The bummer is that now I’m going to have to listen to her boast about how her astrological predictions are all true. She’s going to tell me that I met Adam because today Mars moved into Gemini. She’ll remind me that the number 4 was responsible for my date Saturday. Cherise is going to constantly say that I will be getting a dance invitation when Neptune’s moon (any one of the eight) is high in the sky. And how, now that the stars have proven themselves once, I can rest assured, they will again. I suppose I should go ahead and buy myself some dancing shoes.
From her place by the door, Cherise gives me her best I-told-you-so look, then turns to go. She and Adam are leaving together, but before she takes off, Cherise can’t resist the opening of the bragfest. She turns back and mouths for my eyes only:
“It was written in the stars.”