Potentially You and Me (Two Truths and a Lie)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: HALF-ASSED SALUTE

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: HALF-ASSED SALUTE

I want to say déjà vu at the first mention of midterms, but I can't because it's not. These are all new classes with all new professors and all new stress. The idea of studying in a couple of days is enough to make me squirm.

     The incessant buzz in the student center is also making me squirm. I don't know what's louder. The music or the chatter. Both keep my head ping ponging between all the other people in line for Starbucks.

     Someone slaps my butt, but I don't even flinch. I just glance over my shoulder.

     Savannah's adorned in her practice clothes and an all too cheeky grin that reminds me of my little sister. She slurps on her black cold brew while she waits for me to order my iced chai before we meet back up with Megan and Stephanie to order food.

     Once we all have our trays filled, we search for a place to sit together. I keep a death grip around my tray as I get bumped in the shoulder a few times and skirt around chairs.

     "Sorry," a guy mumbles after pushing his chair out on Stephanie's leg.

     "It's okay." She gives him a thin line of smile before turning her head over to me. "I love this game," she grumbles and kicks the leg of his chair as she passes.

     Her mass of curls moves out of my line of vision and is replaced by the group of guys all crowded around the rectangular table. There must be four or five conversations going on between them as they choke down their food, but what makes me stop in my tracks is the fact that Trent's sitting on the opposite end of the table than the guy that bumped Stephanie. Him and his red sweatshirt are slouched in his seat as he nods along to the conversation. I smile because that's the same nod he pulled in philosophy class. It's his pretending to listen posture.

     His eyes flicker up to mine, and I lift my hand up in a quick wave. A smile breaks out across my face before I can help it, but nothing breaks out across his dull countenance. No puppeteer in sight. His eyes remain on my chin as he just lifts his forearmup and half-heartedly throws me a peace sign.

    The other day, up in his dorm room, the corner of his eyes crinkled with laughter.

     "Show me."

     "No!" I laughed.

     "Please." He pulled out a pout. "I showed you."

     I passed a glance up at the ceiling. "Curling your tongue is not really a hidden talent."

     His shoulders stopped shaking in silent laughter just long enough for him to mock gasp. "Is too."

     "I really need to focus."

     "I know." He crossed a finger over his heart. "I promise I'll stop."

    "Fine." I wiggled around on the grey fuzzy blanket, getting myself into a more comfortable pretzel position. "Ready?" I faced him and his glittering eyes. I clamped my lips shut and inhaled sharply through my nose, making my spine spring up and my chest expand. It only took another second for both my nostrils to flatten against my nose.

     Our laughter returned only this time it bled into hysterics as I folded over into myself, while Trent silently kept slapping his thighs.

     "What . . ." I inhaled after a while. "Are we doing?" I exhaled.

     "I don't know." Trent's smile remained even after all the crinkles and creases on his face faded away.

     I sat up straight again. "You know, fun fact, I also had my tonsils taken out when I was seven."