Flat-Out Love (6 page)

“You’re very goofy.”

The underground platform area was cool and helped Julie feel human again. The downside of which was that she could now fully appreciate how embarrassing her near-fainting spell was. She was very good about avoiding situations that brought on an attack, but she hadn’t been able to see that damn escalator through all the T riders.

They had to wait only a few minutes before the next train screeched to a halt. She and Matt stepped onto the train and sat down in seats that faced the center of the car. Julie crossed her legs and tried to appear as composed as one could after such an incident.

She tucked her hair behind her ears. “So now you know that I don’t like escalators. Or elevators, I imagine, although I
haven’t been on one in years. Maybe I’ve improved. It makes me fall apart. I call it moving height freak-out syndrome.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Matt informed her. “You’re acrophobic, which is one of the space and motion phobias. You have an irrational fear of heights that results in severe discomfort. And you didn’t exactly freak out. You probably experienced dizziness and some panic, right?”

“Thank you for ruining my attempt to bring levity to my traumatic event.” Julie managed not to glower, although it took some effort.

“I’m not ruining your attempt at levity, but you should come up with a name that is factually accurate.” Matt stood up and grabbed a metal bar that ran above his head, swaying with the movement of the train.

“I can come up with whatever the hell name I want to. It’s my syndrome, so I get to name it.”

“Well, it’s not really
your
syndrome, considering that other people—”

“Oh my God!” Julie pleaded. “Can we not argue about what this mortifying thing is called?”

“We’re not arguing. We’re discussing. And you shouldn’t be mortified. It’s really not that uncommon.”

“I don’t care if it’s common or not, I have the right to be mortified if I want to.”

“Of course you have the
right
. I’m just telling you that if your feeling of mortification is based on the belief that this is an unusual pathology, then statistically speaking, you have no reason to.” He was more animated now than Julie had seen him before, color coming into his cheeks and his murky gray eyes actually shining. “You can take comfort in being part of a community. If you look at the percentage of people with any phobia at all, then you’ve got substantial company.”

“So now I’m pathological?” Julie clenched her hands. Good Lord, Matt was exasperating, particularly because he had an annoying grin plastered on his face and seemed to delight way too much in being difficult. Great. She finally had the annoying brother she’d never wanted.

“No,
you’re
not pathological, but acrophobia is pathological in the sense that your reaction to heights deviates from the norm.”

“Why do you have to correct everything I say?” Julie glanced at his
FTW!
shirt. “Out of the two of us, I don’t think I’m the one who deviates from the norm.” The train slammed to a stop. “You’re the one who seems to get off arguing.”

“You sound exactly like Finn. We’re exchanging ideas. Debating.” Matt looked down at his shorts. “And so far I haven’t gotten off.”

“Don’t be rude. Then let’s call it a draw, and we’ll agree to disagree. Come on. I don’t suppose I can get a Coolatta around here? I need caffeine if I’m going to regroup and find an apartment today.” Julie stepped onto the platform with Matt close behind her.

“Watch it,” he warned. “Make sure you get on the stairs here. This station also has a really steep escalator.”

They took the stairs and emerged in the center of Harvard Square. Matt directed her to a community board where people had pinned information about everything from bands and jobs to lecture series and free film nights. Julie liked it here, where a diverse crowd could make anybody feel comfortable: students, professors, parents with toddlers, and punked-out teens skipping school all crowded the brick sidewalks. Groups of people were clustered on concrete steps; musicians were playing instruments and singing James Taylor songs; and a puppeteer across the street was making elaborate marionettes dance while little kids laughed. Even the man in a floral dress
on roller blades who was shouting a profane version of the Declaration of Independence seemed to fit in. There was an energy here that she found enthralling.

“What about this one?” Matt pointed to a flier advertising a one-bedroom apartment.

“First of all, I can’t afford that. Second of all, this ad looks really old. All the phone number tabs have been torn off.”

“You never know. Maybe they had a slew of undesirables and lowered the price, hoping someone normal will call. I bet the last applicant was a wealthy but deranged middle-aged clown who tried to juggle the roommates.”

Julie raised an eyebrow. “Or it was an unhinged MIT nerd who wanted to take over the apartment with his techie gear, leaving little room for necessary things like furniture.”

Matt tapped the side of his head. “Now you’re thinking.”

There were a few ads that looked like possibilities, so Julie stored the numbers on her phone. Matt had to get home to get the car and pick up Celeste from school, so they grabbed sandwich wraps to go from a place on Mt. Auburn Street, and then Julie set her sights on locating her coveted coffee beverage as quickly as possible. “I need a Coolatta, Matt. Please tell me we can get one here? I may accidentally reenact the escalator scene if I don’t find one soon.” Julie tripped on the cobbled sidewalk. “See? I’m already beginning to derail.”

“Yes. Right away.”

Matt led them across the square to a quieter side street, then back down Mass Ave., then down a shorter one-way street, occasionally glancing at Julie.

Julie followed him obediently, wondering why he’d passed three Dunkin’ Donuts without heading into any of them. She stopped him and dropped her head to the side. “Oh, you poor thing. You don’t know what a Coolatta is, do you?”

Matt actually appeared to squirm a bit. “Well, no. I don’t.”

“Hold on, I have to mark this event.” Julie whipped out her phone and updated her Facebook status, which she read aloud to Matt.

Julie Seagle
Have discovered noticeable gap in know-it-all’s knowledge base. Will celebrate enchanting news with Coolatta
.

She was unable to stifle a grin.

Matt put his hands on his hips. “Hysterical. I never said that I knew everything. I’m just confident that I’m well-informed on many subjects.”

“Apparently not important subjects.” Julie marched ahead. “And, by the way, there’s a difference between
confident
and
cocky
. Look, there’s a Dunkin’ at the top of this street. Do you know how far I have to drive at home to find one? And here you are, surrounded by one on every street corner! This is obviously the best city in the world. And the reason you’ve never heard of my favorite drink is because you’re probably an uptight coffeehouse, double-espresso, no-sugar kind of guy?”

“I’m miserably transparent, huh?”

“No. I’m a coffee psychic. You have that bitter double-espresso look about you. But today you’re joining up with the masses and getting a Coolatta.”

A few minutes later, Julie was happily inhaling her large frozen coffee drink while they headed out of the square.

Matt looked less than thrilled and made an exaggerated disgusted face after his first taste.

“This is a very popular drink, you know,” Julie informed him. “There’s no reason to be making such an expression.”

“This must be why I’m not a social icon. You’ve finally pinpointed it. I don’t blindly follow popular culture’s love for overly sweet, pseudo-coffee, ice-crystal concoctions. It’s a relief to finally understand why my social status is on a downward course.”

“It’s either that or the shirts,” Julie muttered. “Hey, can we walk home by the river?” Julie could just glimpse the blue water and was aching to stroll back to the house along the picturesque path that ran through the grass.

Matt brushed his shaggy hair from his face. “Unfortunately, we don’t really have time right now. It’s faster to cut directly through the square, and I have to get Celeste.”

“Sure. No problem.” Julie took another sip of her drink. “Thank you for helping me out today. I’m sure this was a huge drag, but I really appreciate it. This was incredibly nice of you, and I’m sorry if I’ve been grouchy. I didn’t expect to start off my freshman year in such flux. You’ve become a social icon to me,” she teased.

“Yeah, right. You haven’t been grouchy. You’ve been expressive and feisty. Both of which I like. Considering that your first days in Boston are far from what you were expecting, I think that you’re doing great. I’m happy to help.”

They walked quietly for a few minutes, and Julie noticed that despite the lull in conversation, there was nothing the least bit uncomfortable about being with Matt.

“So, do you pick up Celeste every day?” She hoped that he wouldn’t bite her head off for this Celeste-related question.

He nodded.

“And do you stay with her after school too, until your parents get home?”

“I do.”

“How do you get your schoolwork done? I imagine you’ve got more homework than the average student.”

He shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. I stay up late, which I like. Sometimes I go back to school at night if I need to use one of the labs. It works out fine.”

“Is that why you don’t live in the dorms? Or an apartment?”

“It would be rather silly to pay rent when my parents’ house is so close to school.”

“I guess so.”

Matt took another sip of his drink. Aha! Julie smiled to herself and kept walking. He
did
like the Coolatta. Everyone did.

Julie tapped her foot anxiously as she listened to the outgoing message. She had just called the last number from the group of potential apartment rentals and was hoping this would be it. A girl’s chipper voice said, “Hi! You’ve reached Sally (that’s me!) and Megan, Barb, and our newest roommate, Chelsea! Leave us a message, and if we’re not too busy having fun, we’ll call you back!” Julie growled and hung up. She didn’t know if she was jealous of that fourth roommate or not. That Sally sounded an awful lot like the perky-yet-vacant crowd she’d left behind at home. On the other hand, there was something to be said for a core gaggle of girls who would love nothing more than to order pizza, do each others’ hair, and watch tawdry reality shows.

Julie left her mom a falsely optimistic voice mail saying that she had some very strong housing possibilities and would likely be happily settled into a new place by the weekend. It could happen, right? Except that it was becoming apparent to Julie that she and her mom had been grossly naïve about what living in Boston would entail. Julie swore under her breath. Now she was another step closer to having to call her father for money. It was Wednesday night, so that gave her a few days to make good
on her white lie. She had orientation tomorrow, and she’d just have to interrogate everyone she met for apartment leads.

Julie turned on her computer and checked the rental sites that she had bookmarked. Nothing new had come up. Even though her first few days in Boston had been a bit unsettled, she couldn’t complain. At least she had a good place to stay, even if it was temporary. Finn’s room was comfortable, and it somehow felt natural for her to be in here. Things would work out.

Plus, she was getting a kick-start to her undergraduate education just by eating dinner with the Watkins clan.

Dinner tonight had been Indian takeout complemented by a themed discussion about the religious diversity of India, arranged marriages, and the cash-for-votes scandal of 2008. Not that Julie had had much to contribute, since her knowledge of Indian culture and politics was embarrassingly limited, but she’d enjoyed the heated discussion. Erin had banged the table a number of times when making a point, Roger had thoughtfully tilted his head and delivered soft-spoken comments that sympathized with the people of India, and Matt had referenced several historic events, citing the year and exact date. Even though she had mostly just listened during the meal, Julie had found the conversation thoroughly enjoyable.

This was what she hoped her college classes would be like: dynamic, thought-provoking dialogue, piles of new information, and everything opposite from the dull, rote classroom teachings of her high school. Although presumably there would be no Flat characters in the college classrooms.

Right now Celeste was asleep with Flat Finn standing next to her headboard, Erin and Roger were back at work again, and Matt was holed up in his room. He’d applied and been accepted to be a research assistant for one of his professors, and so tonight he was pondering “effective decomposition
strategies for certain nonconvex mixed-integer nonlinear optimization problems.” Whatever the hell that meant. According to Matt, his work involved lots of coding and testing of some new algorithm and then doing numerical experiments on the performance of said scintillating algorithm. This was apparently about as exciting as it got for Matt. Maybe he had a nice mainstream hobby that she didn’t know about?

Julie’s e-mail notified her that she was now Facebook friends with both Matt and Finn. Oh, and that Finn had commented on her status about never being too rich or too Finn.
Best. Update. Ever
, he’d written. So he had a sense of humor. Although Julie wondered if he even knew who she was. Had anyone in his family let him know that she was a guest in their house? She sent him a quick private message:

Dear Finn–

Despite appearances, I am not in fact some weirdo who befriends strangers on Facebook and works their names into status updates. At least not on a regular basis. Our mothers went to college together, and I’m in Boston starting Whitney in a few days. My housing fell through, and your parents were nice enough to let me crash in your room while I figure things out. Not sure if anyone had told you about me…

Any booby traps in here that I should know about? I wouldn’t want Flat Finn to have an accident should he stop by to chat
.