I'll Be Here

over here.” 
    He does?  I turned my head quickly and sure enough, I caught Alex’s eye.  We both smiled. 
    “Jesus Willow!  What the hell is that about?”
    I turned back to Dustin.  His eyes were narrowed and his mouth puckered into an angry line.  “What?”
    “You’re flirting with him.”
    “No.  I’m not.  We’re just old friends.”  I put my hands on my hips. 
    “You have tons of friends that are girls.  Do you see me complaining that Kristin’s family and your family went on vacation together over the summer?  Or that you and Taylor played tennis together last weekend?  No.  You don’t.  So stop being a jerk.”
    “Nothing’s going on with Kristin or Taylor.  Are you telling me that nothing is going on with that guy Alex?”
    “Yes.” 
    Dustin still didn’t look convinced so I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the lips.  “I promise.”
    Dustin wrinkled his nose.  “Okay, I still don’t like him.”
    I didn’t think that it would be a good time to mention that Alex was older, taller and could probably kick the shit out of him.  I just laced my fingers with Dustin’s and walked him over to the food table.  What couldn’t a good bowl of chili fix?
    ***
    It turns out that I don’t need to worry about how to get in touch with Alex.  He sends me an email sometime while I’m at school on Friday.  It’s waiting like a wrapped present when I get to get home in the afternoon.
     
    Willow,
    I was sitting in class this morning waiting for my professor’s coffee to kick in so that he could start the lecture when I got a text from my mom.  She hasn’t quite grasped the concept of the auto-correct function on her phone so it took me a few minutes to figure out what the text was about.  Basically she was berating me for not getting in touch with you sooner to talk to you about school next year. 
    She’s right.  I don’t know many people in the Art Department but I would be happy to help you out with general information or whatever you need.  I’ll be home tomorrow night.  I thought I’d get there today but an unexpected project and a much needed study group popped up.  Ahhh, the life of an “architorture” student. 
    A
     
    Get this—my stomach flips over as I read the email.  And then I reread it.   
    I let the email breathe in my inbox for a half an hour and then crack my fingers against each other and try to formulate a response that manages to be both friendly and aloof at the same time.  
               
    Alex,
                Architorture, huh? 
    Thanks for the offer.  I’m sure any and all assistance will be helpful.  I haven’t settled my major yet and I actually never sent my portfolio in so I probably won’t be allowed to register for any of the major-specific art classes.  I’ll most likely get a fairly generic freshman liberal arts course load when it comes time to make my schedule.
    Willow
     
    Alex’s responding email hits my inbox in less than two minutes so he must be online:
                           
    What?  You’re not planning to major in art?  Did I just black out and wake up in a parallel universe?  By the way, do you have plans Saturday night?
                A
     
    I try to ignore the question about my major and focus on the second part of his email.  Saturday night is that party at the Hooch that Dustin mentioned.  Okay, is it completely bitchy that I wouldn’t mind seeing Dustin’s reaction if I bring Alex to the party with me?  I quickly type out an email before I lose my nerve.
                           
    I’m supposed to go to a party at the beach Saturday.  Go with me?
     
                I expect Alex to email me back right away but five minutes goes by, and then a half an hour, and then an hour.  Nothing.  Great.  I probably freaked him out by basically asking him to go out with me.  And does a college guy even want to go to a high school party?  Probably not. 
                There is homework that I could be doing and laundry that I could be putting away, but my brain is completely dominated by a nervous anxiety that has everything to do with Alex.  Finally, just before I flip off my computer, he emails me back. 
     
                             I probably won’t be able to make it in time to take you out for dinner.  Party sounds good.  Pick you up at