United

Dance with Fists

It rained all day on Tuesday. Pitch-black clouds rolled in from the west and churned over the campus, doing nothing to help clear my mind. The downpour came in uneven waves, drizzling, then pouring, then hailing, before it tapered off to start all over again. The students hadn’t even been allowed to go outside during breaks, and by the end of her music class, I was going crazy. 

I realized this when my notes turned to the beginninh of a pretty embarrassing catalog.

September 15: Introductory flip-off from H.
September 16: Statue toppling, hand on head to protect me (alternately: just him groping for a way out); H’s immediate exit.
September 17: Potential misreading of H’s head bob as suggestion that I attend Jasper’s party. Disturbing discovery of H&C’s relationship (mistake?) 

If only I could understand this guy. And they say us, girls, are the one who are complicated. Give me a break! He was just so hot and cold. It was possible he felt the same way about me, though, if pressed, I would insist that any weirdness on my part was only in response to utter weirdness on his part.

No. This was precisely the kind of circular argument I didn't want to engage in. I didn’t want to play any games. I just wanted to be with him. Only, I had no idea why. Or how to go about it. Or really, what being with him would even mean. All I knew was that, despiteeverything, he was the one I thought about. The one I cared about.

I’d thought if I could track every time they’d connected and every time he’d pulled away, I might be able to find some reason behind Harry’s erratic behavior. But my list so far was only making me depressed. I crumpled the page into a ball.

When the bell finally rang to dismiss them for the day, I hurried out of the classroom. Usually I waited to walk with either Colleen or Stella, dreading the moment they parted ways, because then I would be alone with my thoughts. But today, for a change, I didn’t feel like seeing anyone. I was looking forward to some Elena time. I had only one sure idea about how to take me mind off Harry: a long, hard, solitary piano session.

While the other students started trucking back toward their dorm rooms, I pulled up the hood of my black sweater and darted into the rain, eager to get to the music room.

As I bounded down the steps of the conservatoire, I plowed straight into something tall and black. Jasper. When I jostled him, a tower of books teetered in his arms, then tumbled to the wet pavement with a series of thuds. He’d had his own black hood pulled over his head and his earbuds blaring in his ears. He probably hadn’t seen me coming, either. We’d both been in our own worlds.

“Are you okay?” he asked, putting a hand on my back.


“I’m fine,” I said. I’d barely stumbled. It was Jasper’s books that had taken the spill.

“Well, now that we’ve knocked over one another’s books, isn’t the next step for our hands to accidentally touch while we’re picking them up?” I laughed. When I handed him one of the books, he held on to my hand and squeezed it. The rain had soaked his dark hair, and big drops gathered in his long, thick eyelashes. He looked really good.

“How do you say ‘embarrassed’ in French?” he asked.

“Um... gêné,” I started to say, feeling suddenly a little génee myself. Jasper was still holding on to my hand. “Wait, aren’t you the one who got an A on the French quiz yesterday?”

“You noticed?” he asked. His voice sounded strange.


“Jasper,” I said, “is everything okay?” 
He leaned toward me and brushed a drop of water I’d felt running down the bridge of my nose. The single touch of his forefinger made me shiver, and suddenly I couldn’t help thinking about how wonderful and warm it might feel if he folded me into his arms the way he’d done at Lucas’ memorial.