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12. The Rush at the Beginning
I’m at the kitchen table Wednesday morning, working on a
bagel, when Pilot strides in. My heart kick-starts. We head to
Paris tomorrow.
“Morning,” he greets me casually before flipping on the
electric kettle.
“Morning.” I smile at him before returning to my studious
Twitter scrolling on Sawyer. He fixes himself a cup of tea and
sits across from me, grinning.
I pull away from the computer and raise my eyebrows in
question.
“So,” he starts, “ah … I don’t want to come off super-
forward, but would you maybe want to come to Paris with me
this weekend?”
“Like on a date?” I say with mock surprise.
“Yes?”
“Sure.”
“Okay, good.” His grin widens. “What time does your
class get out tomorrow?”
“Four thirty.”
“Four thirty,” he repeats. With that, he stands, puts his tea
in the sink, and leaves.
Thursday has come. I’m in class. We’re discussing world-
building by dissecting Harry Potter and it’s everything. I’ve
got my backpack and rolling suitcase with me at my desk
because I have to leave straight from here to make the six-
thirty Eurostar. When the lecture ends, I’m the last one out,
bringing up the rear with my luggage. As I drag my bag over
the building’s threshold, I catch sight of Pilot standing out on
the sidewalk, wearing his backpack and carrying a plastic bag.
“What are you doing here?” I ask cheerily, as I step up to
where he’s waiting.
“Got us some travel food.” He holds out the plastic bag.
I gasp dramatically at the contents. “Shawarma! How did
you know I liked this?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never heard you talk about it.”
We sit side by side on the Tube. We’re nice and smooshed
with the incoming rush-hour crowd.
We’re on a date.
A first
date. Which is weird because we already know each other.
First dates are usually so … new.
But how much do I really know about Pilot’s life outside
of London? I turn to where he is on my right, and he meets my
eyes.
“Pies, we’ve never really talked about our lives outside
of … study abroad. Is that weird? I felt like I knew you, I feel
like you knew me, but did we?” My eyebrows pull together.
“That’s a loaded question.” He tilts his head. I watch,
freely admiring how attractive he looks right now, because I’m
allowed, because we’re on a date! The Tube lady’s voice rings
overhead: “Mind the gap.”
His eyes refocus on me. “We knew each other. I guess I
kept stuff about life back home private because it just didn’t
come up. There were so many other things to discuss because
everything was new.”
“Yeah, I never really offered much information about life
at home either. I guess it was kind of like an escape, being here
and not having to dwell on anything but the novelty of
being
here.
”
He frowns slightly, nodding. “I mean, just because we
didn’t talk about our lives back in the US doesn’t mean we
didn’t know each other.” He smiles a bit now. “I knew that
when you got up in the kitchen, the chair would fall.”
I snort.
He continues matter-of-factly, “I knew that if a song you
knew came on, or if someone started singing randomly, you’d
sing along. I knew that if you tripped on the street, you’d do a
crazy dance and manage to stay upright. I knew I could
probably always find you writing in the kitchen. I knew your
eyes were ice blue. I knew I could always poke fun at the
weird stuff you do because you’d laugh right along with me. I
knew enough to know you.”
I stare, speechless for a moment. He drops his gaze,
smiling at his hands and fiddling with a strap on his backpack.
“You know, you never really gave me any shit back then, when
I’d give it to you,” he finishes.
My lip quirks up. “You’re not as weird as I am; it’s harder
to make fun of you. Back then, I barely knew how to make fun
of myself—not jaded enough yet, I guess.”
“And you’re jaded now?” He smirks.
“In terms of me, I’m jaded,” I answer with a scoff. “I came
here so sheltered. It’s hard to be cynical when you’re
constantly spinning around in awe of the stuff around you. So
many times, you’d crack a joke or say something ridiculous,
and so many times, I wouldn’t realize it for a good three
minutes because I was too distracted by the world to pick up
on the sarcasm and I’d feel like an idiot for having missed it
and not reacted in the moment.”
He grins, shaking his head.
I continue in earnest, “We were gallivanting around in
foreign countries I’ve never seen before! It was a lot to take
in.” I laugh, looking at my knees. “Now that I’ve been here
before, it’s a little more familiar than foreign.” I meet his eyes
again. “I feel a little less like a newborn puppy than before.”
Pilot nods with a small smile. “I’ve noticed.”
“Noticed what?” I ask with a smidge of attitude.
“You’re bolder than before.”
We eat our shawarma in the Eurostar waiting area. Once we’re
settled in on the train to Paris, I turn and ask him something
that’s been on my mind for a while. “Why did you want to do
study abroad?”
“To get away from everything and travel, see the world.”
Everything?
“Really?”
“And get a break from school. It’s a lighter semester, and
when else are you going to be able to live in a different
country?”
I nod and look down at my lap.
“What about you?”
I purse my lips. “I mean, I needed to get away, I guess, but
at the time I was fixated on starting college over.”
Pilot tilts his head. “What do you mean?”
“My roommates from freshman and sophomore year had
gone ahead and booked a double without me for junior year.
They were my closest friends at YU. I was left super-alone in
a single apartment, all sad and friendless. I was going home
every weekend. I found the writing program on the study
abroad site—and the rest is history.”
He studies me thoughtfully. “And you’re glad you did it?”
He raises his brows, eyes twinkling because he already knows
the answer.
I fiddle with the edge of my jacket. “Best unintentional
decision I ever made. You?”
He grins. “Are you kidding? I wouldn’t have missed this
for anything.” He reaches for his backpack on the ground and
plunges his hand inside. It comes back out holding … a pack
of Beatles cards!
I gasp and he chuckles. “Picked these up yesterday. Didn’t
feel right not having them.”
“You went to the Beatles store without me!” I nudge him
playfully.
“I wanted them to be sort of a surprise.”
“Well, thanks.” A fire stirs to life in my chest.
“Shall we play?”
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