Chapter 14 #3
She’s breathing harder, nostrils flaring, the memories having a clear effect on her.
After a deep inhale, her voice turns softer.
“And then with you…at the mall, and the taco truck, and over text, and even now…somehow it’s like I’m able to just forget all of that.
I haven’t felt that way in a long time, and I—I’m scared to lose it, I guess. ”
“I help you feel…normal.” Now he’s starting to understand. He allows his shoulders to relax. Tries to abandon the pretense of who he’s supposed to be in this conversation. Tries to be a human being first, a professor second.
That connection he felt to her, the magnet tugging them closer—she feels it, too.
“I really mean it when I say that’s what I want.
I want a little house in the suburbs. I want to take up gardening.
A normal life where I figure out what I’m good at, ideally something that contributes to this fucked-up slab of earth in some positive way.
And then I spend thirty-five years doing it until I retire. ”
“You know you don’t need a college degree for that,” he says, but his mind is still spinning. “Can I ask you what might be an insensitive question? I won’t pretend to understand how the music industry works, but I assume you’re still making royalties. Do you…even need to work?”
“Eventually, yes.” A flutter of her lashes.
“I can’t live off this face forever. And I’d get really fucking bored, otherwise.
” Despite everything, this makes him laugh—it’s such a Ramona response.
“I’ve basically been in hibernation ever since the announcement.
I don’t know how to interact with the world as someone who isn’t…
me. Taking these classes was my first step, but I need more. I might need…a guide.”
“Someone to guide you through the fine art of being normal.”
She nods vigorously, mouth quirking upward.
“And—and it wouldn’t have to be one-sided,” she says.
“You want to get back out there, right? Learn how to casually date? I could help you.” Then she rushes to clarify, “Not by dating you! Obviously. But I have a lot of experience, as I’m sure the internet would tell you. ”
This is clearly something she came up with on the spot, not something she’s been planning. Watching her get excited, her smile turning brighter—it shouldn’t be this irresistible, but god if she isn’t adorable, doing a little half twirl right there in the library aisle.
“Yes,” she continues, as though the plan is taking more concrete shape in her mind. “You could help me be normal, and I could help you learn how to date again. Is there anything in the UCLA handbook discouraging student-professor friendships?”
“I haven’t read it thoroughly enough.” Fuck, he probably should.
She’s right—it is ridiculous. And she doesn’t have to offer anything in return, although he’s sure he could use the help.
He thinks back to what Ramona said about not having anyone else to call.
The truth is, he’s been lonely too. He has his colleagues, his trivia friends, but those relationships are so tied to work that it’s hard for him to completely open up.
Of course he has Lexi and Audrey, but family’s different.
Then there are those long nights where he wakes up for a moment thinking he’s still back at his old house—because while he swears he’s moved on, maybe it’ll take something like this to get him the rest of the way there.
And even if he knows what she sounds like when she comes, that breathy, desperate gasp haunting his dreams—
Well. Something for his fantasies.
So he gazes back into her expectant face, radiant and hopeful, like the sun coming in through the window was meant just for her. And there’s really only one way to answer. “I could do friends,” he says, and somehow that makes her light up even more.
“Amazing. What do normal people do for fun?”
He laughs, reaching for his stack of books. “Now I’m wondering if I’m even that much of an expert.”
She nudges his arm with hers. The way a friend might. That’s something he’s going to have to get really okay with, really quickly. “If you had an evening to yourself, no grading, no family obligations…what would you do?”
“Depends on if the Clippers are playing or not.”
“Aren’t they like, really bad?”
The way he scoffs is pure defiance. She obviously isn’t wrong, but only true fans are allowed to insult them like that. “They’re not great,” he admits. “But there’s always that hope, you know?”
“Okay then. We’ll go to a Clippers game. You and me. I could get us courtside seats.” When he lifts his eyebrows, she dials it back. “Right. Right. We’ll sit in the nosebleeds. We’ll use binoculars. We’ll eat churros and wear those giant foam fingers.”
She’s actually serious.
With a giddy little squeal, she reaches out to hug him, but then, realizing where they are and that their new boundaries are still semi-undefined, settles for giving his shoulder an exuberant pat.
“I can’t wait,” she says. “Text me the details.”
When she leaves, he stands there in what used to be her sunbeam, now covered up by clouds.
Going to a Clippers game with Ramona Wilder.
Who just four days ago was on the desk in his office, shirt unbuttoned, body pressed to his.
Who has just declared that they’re friends.
Somehow, he feels as though he’s just made a very bad decision.