p.m. train, and we’re all going
to meet at the hostel Babe
booked for us.
I spot Pilot chilling in a seating area off to the right with a
backpack at his feet. He’s dressed in an unbuttoned red-and-
blue plaid button-up with a gray T-shirt underneath and jeans.
His green jacket is tucked under one of his arms, and white
headphones trail from his ears down to an iPod in his hand.
Nerves prickle my skin. I wonder if he feels weird about
this. Not only are we
going to Paris in a foursome, but we’ve
broken off into twosomes to actually get there. Why couldn’t
Babe wait these two hours and go with us? I roll my stuff
toward the seating area.
“Hey,” I say brightly when I’m about two feet away.
Pilot hadn’t seen me, and he startles, yanking out his
headphones.
I chuckle and take the seat next to him. “What were you
listening to?”
“Secret snobby hipster music,” he says without pause as he
wraps his headphones and stuffs them away in a backpack.
“You wouldn’t know it.”
“Are you embarrassed to tell me? Was it super-mainstream?
Was it the Backstreet Boys?”
Pilot’s mouth falls open. “How’d you know?”
I blink in surprise. “Wait, really?”
“No.” He laughs.
I scrunch up my face and
extend my arms in a pushing
motion, without actually pushing him. “This is me mentally
pushing you over.”
The seats on the train are divided into sections of two. It’s
going to be a two-and-half-hour ride, and we’re going to spend
a lot of it under the English Channel.
Pilot takes the window seat, and I plop down next to him
after storing my roller bag above us. I fish my iPod Touch out
of my book bag before stuffing it down by my feet. Right on
time,
the train pulls forward, and we’re on our way.
“Have you played that game everyone’s talking about,
Angry Birds?” I ask as my iPod powers up.
“No, I’ve heard of it, though,” he says. Pilot shifts a bit so
we can look at each other more easily when we talk.
“I just got it on my iPod and tried it the other day. It’s pretty
fun. Do you want to play?”
“Sure.”
“Okay, we can switch off. I’ll go first so you can watch my
technique,” I say.
He grins, leaning in to see the tiny screen in my hand. I’m
only on level three. I don’t have much technique, but I play my
round leaning slightly to the right so Pilot can watch. Our heads
get close as we hunch over the little iPod. My heart gets excited.
My hands get sweaty. When I lose, I pass him the iPod so he
can give it a go.
Soon, we’re completely lost,
having an excellent time
strategizing together about how best to take out our targets with
the allotted amount of birds. Some levels go quickly, but others
stump us for rounds and rounds of going back and forth
between the two of us, and all the while, we’re sitting so close.
All the alarms go off in my brain when I realize his
shoulder’s leaning against mine. We’re touching shoulders!
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