I scoot back on the bed and help myself to one of his pillows for support. “I may or may not get that,” I admit. “Keep saying things.” I want him to continue talking because the liquor has loosened me up enough that I’m quite enjoying watching how he moves his hands while he speaks, how his voice is a bit husky without being too deep.
“Just because there isn’t a rational explanation for what went down between us doesn’t mean that I can’t appreciate and be grateful for those three minutes. How often are we that moved?” He looks shyly at me. “I did, you know, have other great connections that day. Like the man who must’ve been six and a half feet tall, wearing a bandanna on his head, sporting this studded motorcycle jacket and looking mean as all hell. To be truthful, I was a little scared when he sat down. I’ve got unfair reactions to people, just like anyone. Anyway, I cleared my head as best I could and tried not to assume I was about to be murdered. Then the coolest thing happened. I don’t know why, but at some point, he started giggling. Then so did I. And soon we were both laughing our heads off and having the best time.”
“And apparently he didn’t kill you.”
“He did not.”
I focus on his wrist and the leather and rope bracelets for a while before I move back to that endearing face of his. “And then there was me.”
He nods and leans forward, resting his arms on his legs.
“You kicked a chair,” I point out.
When he smiles, those damn amber eyes of his offer very little to make me angry. “I did. That was out of my control.”
“And flipped a table.”
“Also out of my control.”
“You kissed me.”
“How could I not?” Esben locks eyes with me. Again. “Was I alone in that? Because I’m pretty sure you kissed me, too.”
I am counting the seconds in my head. Six, seven, eight, nine, ten . . . I nod. He’s right, but I can’t say that out loud.
“Wasn’t that kind of beautiful?” he suggests. “It was for me. Maybe not for you, though. I thought it just felt like too much right then, and that’s why you took off. And it’s why I didn’t try to find you after.”
I glance over at the video camera. “You weren’t in psych class on Monday. Were you hiding out?”
“I just wasn’t feeling well.”
“Great. Am I gonna get mono now? Or the bird flu?”
He laughs. “No. Just some late fall allergies that had me feeling rough.”
“Oh.” I fidget with my hands, then face him again. “Sorry you weren’t well.” I study his face until I realize that too many seconds have ticked by, and it’s getting weird. “I hope you’re better now?”
“I’m good.” Esben is calm and steady. “And you weren’t in class on Wednesday. And then you were obviously not happy to see me this morning.” The way he sighs with apology now is totally beyond sweet. “Allison? I am truly sorry that you are upset by all of this. I can take the video down in two seconds.”
I straighten up and look around the room. Something catches my eye, and I scoot off the bed and snatch a small container of microwaveable macaroni and cheese. It takes some squinting for me to read the instructions. “‘Cook for three minutes.’ How ironic.” I rip back the top and take out the foil package of gooey cheese sauce. “Do you have some water?”
Esben raises an eyebrow, and I freeze. “Oh God, I’m sorry.” I glance down at the open container. “Apparently I just got supercrazy hungry when I saw this and grabbed it. How rude of me . . . um, let me just put this back.” I attempt the impossible and try to reseal the mac and cheese.
He laughs. “It’s all right.” Esben takes a bottle from his small fridge and adds water to the cup.
I crawl back to my spot on the bed, now decently mortified. Again. My phone dings. Steffi has messaged me from the party. She’s sent a picture of herself and a good-looking guy in a plaid shirt with the message, “I met me a cutie boy!”
Esben holds out the water bottle. “You might want to have some of this.”
Oh God. “Sorry. I know I’m a little drunk. Or a lot. Either way.” But I take the bottle from his hand and drink. I rub my lips together and watch him watch me.
“Your hair . . . it looks very pretty like that. The curls.”
“Steffi did it.”
“Is Steffi your roommate?”
“No, she’s my friend from California who apparently flew in to badger me because I wouldn’t talk to her about you.”
“I see.” Esben shuts his eyes for a second. “Again, I’m really sorry if all this has upset you. Some of my projects ask a lot of the participant. You have to be open and . . . willing to give of yourself. Sometimes people aren’t quite ready, or they’re surprised by what happens, but it’s usually in a good way.” He pauses. “Even if they’re resistant at the start, sometimes it’s their transition that is worth it.”
“Like with me?”
“Like with us,” he corrects me. Esben gets up and paces as much as he can in the small space his room allows. “Why did you sign the waiver?”
The condensation on the water bottle is wetting my hand, but the cool feels nice. “I wasn’t paying attention. I’d been in a . . . mood. I didn’t know what I was doing.” I hiccup again. “Walls . . . you said something about people with walls. That’s me.”
“You don’t like that you let those walls down.”
“No.”
He sits again. “Why not?”
“There’s no way you would understand. You like people. That’s obvious. You’re curious. You want to investigate them, delve into layers of humanity and crap, right?”
“I suppose that’s a good way to look at it.” Esben suppresses a smile as he spins his chair and retrieves the mac and cheese and a plastic spoon, then trades them out for my water.
“I’m not like that. I don’t much care for people because they kinda suck.” This microwave meal is the best thing I’ve ever eaten. I point my spoon at him in between bites. “They are unreliable, selfish, and they lie all the time.”
“That’s a rather negative perspective.”
“Now you’re feeling me!” I say happily. “So I don’t get what you do. At all. Like, I can’t even watch this eye-contact thing you did. We did.”
“Wait a second. You haven’t even seen the video?”
“Just bits and pieces.” I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.
“Okay. How about this? You watch it and see what you think. Then I’ll take it down if you want. Say the word. But, Allison? At least watch it.”
“Fine. Fire ’er up!” I get up and drunkenly wave him out of his seat. He kindly accommodates my gin-laden attitude, but I do notice a well-deserved eye roll.
“Oh awesome. A giant desktop screen so everything will be huge and even more traumatizing!” I shout.
“It won’t be traumatizing.” Esben is laughing as he leans over my shoulder and moves the mouse. I am profoundly aware of his proximity, and I don’t know what to make of the fact that there’s an unpreventable flutter in my chest. “So, is Steffi a friend from home?” he asks.