Undeclared (11 page)

“So is it like the opposite of a rearview mirror?”

“Kind of, but imagine the rear-view mirror being able to shift up and down and then tilt.”

“Do you have to be high up to make it look like a model toy town?”

“Not always. Some people are able to take ground level shots, but I’m better at taking them up high and at a distance.”

“Is it harder with people?” Noah seemed really interested, and I could talk about my hobby all day long.

“No, people make it great. They give it scale, actually. This type of thing is really well-suited for having the girls against the backdrop of the house.”

I made a few more adjustments and then turned to Lana. “I think I’m ready.”

She texted someone. A few moments later, the Alpha Phis began streaming out of their house. They were all wearing red shorts and white and red T-shirts with their Greek insignia on the back. As they formed a line, I took a few pictures. Action shots were the best. Like the one I took of Noah kneeling in the library when I thought he was some random lacrosse player.

“Have them move around some more, like in a circle or something,” I called to Lana. She must have relayed the message, because the girls on the lawn moved into a round formation and started walking in unison. I motioned for Noah to look through the viewfinder. I noticed that he was careful not to touch anything, like Lana always was. Most people would’ve put their hand up to the lens or bumped the tripod. I held the remote in my hands and took several photos while Noah was looking.

He stepped back. “That’s pretty cool. I want to see the bigger versions, though. It’s hard to get the full effect with the tiny viewfinder.”

“I always tell Grace that I can’t see what she sees,” Lana interjected.

Noah nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I mean I kind of see it, but it’s not the same as the prints Grace sent me.”

“What ones did she send you? My favorite is the football one with Josh,” Lana said. I let the two of them chatter about their favorites while I raised and lowered the camera and adjusted the tilt, taking several photographs.

The Alpha Phis had gotten tired of doing circles and were breaking into small groups. A few sat down on the stairs of the house and some others stretched out on the lawn. The different body positions gave the image so much more composition. This was the photo. I would still review them all, but this one spoke the most to me, and I just knew that when I scrolled through the images this would be my favorite.

The sisters might choose something else more polished, but the relaxed and conversational nature of the scattered crowd would be the best image of the set.

“I’m ready,” I said, straightening up. I rubbed my neck a little to ease the slight ache that had gathered from bending over the camera. I felt a warm hand push mine away. Large, strong fingers cupped the base of my skull and flexed against my neck, gently but firmly massaging me. I closed my eyes for a moment and allowed the pleasure to wash over me.

The room was utterly silent, but I could feel Noah’s body, the heat and mass of it, next to me. I wanted to place my hands on him, stroke that marble-hard chest that Lana and Amy had patted down last night. But I knew that would be an invitation I wasn’t prepared to extend.

I curled my hands into fists, and the sting of my nails in my palms brought me back. I opened my eyes to find Noah staring at me, his hand still on my neck. His brown eyes had darkened and the skin over his cheekbones was pulled tight. He looked hungry and more than a little predatory. I shivered, a matching hunger building inside of me. It would be so easy to drop my defenses and tumble into his arms, but what would happen when he let go? I didn’t think I’d recover from the fall.

His fingers tightened for a minute and then dropped away. I took a deep breath and turned to dismantle my equipment. “Thanks for your help. I’m going to go over to the house for a little bit and look through the photos. See which ones they want.”

Noah understood that this was a dismissal. “I’ll walk you over.”

He carried everything for me, down the four flights of stairs, across the street, and into the front reception room of the house. The girls fluttered around him like butterflies trying to alight on the same flower. He didn’t talk or flirt or even acknowledge them. He set down my things and then hooked his hand around my neck again, turning me so I was looking directly at him.

“I’ll see you tonight,” he said.

I only nodded my response.

It took longer to fend off questions about Noah than it did to pick out a picture. The consensus of the rush committee was to use the image that had them circled around the Alpha Phi sign on the front lawn. It was one of my least favorites, but with a little processing, I could make it acceptable even for me. I ended up eating dinner at the sorority house, so I had little time to get ready for my date with Mike. And Noah. And whomever Noah was bringing.

***

“What’s showing?” I asked Mike when I met up with him at the library.

“Some movie with subtitles. I never thought Noah Jackson would be into this sort of thing. Who do you think he’s dating?” Flip went his hair.

“Dunno,” I mumbled. This thought had tormented me all afternoon, and by dinnertime I had stoked my anxiety into anger. Mike seemed nervous, and maybe if we were on a real date, I would be nervous too. Instead, I was kind of angry, and anger burned away nervousness and made me feel stupidly brave. Anger: the sober student’s high.

I broached the Sarah subject with Mike, figuring this might be the only time I’d have alone with him before the movie started. “We should’ve invited Sarah.”

“Why?” Mike asked, this time pushing his hair back with his hand.

“Because she’s a cool girl, and I think she’d have liked this movie.”

“Really? I got the impression she didn’t like movies,” Mike said.

“How so?”

He shrugged, shoving both hands in his pockets. “I asked her to a few, and she always had excuses not to go. Maybe she just didn’t want to go with me.”

Good lord. Was it possible that Sarah’s unrequited feelings were actually returned, but through a series of miscommunications, Sarah and Mike each thought the other didn’t return their feelings? It was like a classic romance novel, where I could play the adorable Cupid matchmaker, doing something productive for once. In the book, however, I’d have tangled red curls. I always loved the heroines with red hair—and so did their male counterparts. Before I could ask any questions, though, we arrived at the theater.

Noah was already standing there, and Bo was standing right next to him. There were three theater students, all beautiful, talking to both of them. One of them had tangled red hair. The universe hated me. Was this like a multiple couple thing, a sextuplet? An orgy of moviegoers? Noah broke away from the group when he saw us arrive.

“Which one’s your date?” I asked, bracing myself. Please don’t let it be the cute redhead, I prayed.

“Bo’s my date,” Noah smiled, turned and gestured for Bo to extricate himself from the others.

“You two are dating?” Mike asked, mouth agape. Apparently, to Mike, Noah Jackson liking movies with subtitles was less astonishing than Noah liking men. I could only sigh in relief that I wasn’t in competition with some gorgeous romance book heroine with red hair.

“Nope, just needed some bro time,” Noah said, and he turned and bumped fists with Bo.

“Bro time at a foreign, subtitled film?” I asked, skepticism heavy in my tone.

“Sure. Aren’t we here to be better educated?” This was from Bo. He handed out tickets to Mike and me.

I stared at Bo and Noah’s smiling faces when the reality of the situation struck me. Noah hadn’t brought a date. He’d brought his best friend and battle buddy. Most importantly, he had brought a guy. I felt guilty at all the angry thoughts I had directed at him earlier while having dinner with the Alpha Phis. I felt even worse having used Mike as a defense against my feelings toward Noah. Neither one of them deserved that.

“Thanks,” Mike snatched his up. He didn’t offer to reimburse them.

“What do we owe you?” I asked. Bo looked offended, and Noah shook his head in mock dismay.

“Bo’s momma is still alive, but hearing that her son didn’t buy a girl’s movie ticket might send her to an early death,” Noah said, drawing out his vowels to exaggerate his Texas accent.

I rolled my eyes, but Mike just shrugged. When we got inside, Bo said, “Why don’t you and Noah grab some seats, and Mike and I’ll field the refreshments.”

“Why don’t you and Noah go get the seats, and Mike and I will get the popcorn and stuff.” I wanted to speak to Mike about Sarah before the movie started, and being separated wouldn’t provide that opportunity.

“Since you paid for the movie,” Mike added. I realized that Mike’s silence on the tickets wasn’t him being a cheap jerk, just picking his battles. Maybe I had misconceptions of Mike too. This made me want to work even harder to get him together with Sarah and make up for my jerkiness.

I left Noah, Bo, and Mike debating who was going to buy popcorn, soda, and water (the latter being Noah’s drink of choice), and found an open section a quarter of the way down the auditorium-style seats. The Varsity Theatre was old and the royal blue velvet seats hadn’t been updated for at least a couple decades. The cloth was worn through on the arms, and some of the springs’ resilience had been weakened, so when you sat in them, the seats kind of collapsed.

A movie here was about the cost of a soda. I don’t even know why I argued about paying my way. If I really meant for Noah to be deterred, I should act like I didn’t care. Arguing over everything and ignoring him were obvious signs that I was trying too hard. I resolved to try to be friendlier and less bitchy. I wanted to project an“ I don’t care” attitude, not an“ I’m so hurt that I can barely stand to look at you, yet I don’t want to be away from you either” message.

Looking around, I was surprised by the number of people in the theater for a Saturday night, early on in the year. I figured everyone would be at some house party, or over on Greek Street, or in one of the campus bars.

I leaned over to a girl next to me. “What’s the movie?”

She looked at me like I was crazy. “Lust, Caution.”

“That doesn’t sound very French.”

“It’s not. It’s Chinese. Directed by Ang Lee,” She bit out each word as if I was five years old.

“I thought it was a French film with subtitles,” I couldn’t let go of the fact that it wasn’t a French film.

“You got half that right. It’s got subtitles.” With that she turned away and resumed her conversation with her friend. I think it had something to do with half-wits and how they shouldn’t even come to subtitled movies if they weren’t serious film students.

I pulled out my phone to do some quick searching on“ Lust, Caution,” but I heard a commotion and saw the three guys at the aisle, trying to get through to the seats I had picked out.

Mike led the way, followed by Noah and then Bo. When Mike started to seat himself, Noah grabbed his arm and pulled him upright.

“No, you sit over there,” Noah directed Mike to the seat I was in. “Grace, sit here.” And then, as if he thought his orders would sound better, he added, “Please.” I wasn’t planning on moving, but Mike stood there uncertainly, with Noah’s hand still gripping his other arm.

“Move, girl,” I heard from behind me. “The movie is about to start.”

I let out a loud and ungrateful sigh and moved one seat over. Everyone collapsed in their chairs, and I heard a“ finally” behind us.

Now I was in the worst position I could imagine, in a dark theater sitting next to Noah, so I leaned into Mike as far as I could without making it seem like I wanted to get intimate with him. I tied to portray a certain nonchalance over the fact that I was going to watch a Chinese-subtitled film with Noah Jackson. I probably looked like I had overused the distortion or blur tool on my computer photo-editing program right now.

“The film isn’t French. It’s Chinese,” I felt responsible for dragging Mike here, so I tried to impart what little knowledge I had.

“Oh yeah? I just heard that it had subtitles and assumed it was French,” He whispered back. I gave him the
I know, right?
look. Then, he offered me a drink of his soda. I moved away and gave a mini-shudder. I wasn’t going to suck on the same straw he had in his mouth. Who knew what kind of backwash Mike sent into the soda? Now, Noah’s drink? A couple of years ago I’d have paid money to place my lips around something he had touched. Cripes. Who was I kidding? I wanted to suck on that water bottle of his until you couldn’t tell where his DNA started and mine began. I sunk lower in the seat.

The nearly three hours of sitting between Mike and Noah in the dark watching an extremely erotic film was possibly one of the most uncomfortable situations of my entire life. The movie was about a female spy sent to seduce an opposition leader. It was scene after scene of sexually explicit and forbidden love. The first sex scene was fairly violent, and I could see Mike shift restlessly beside me, while Noah was stoically unmoving. I could feel myself dying of embarrassment. I tried to look at it from a filmmaking point of view, separating myself from the action on the screen and examining the angle of the shots and the placement of the shadows. It didn’t work.

As the movie played on and the love scenes became increasingly graphic, I stopped watching. I was acutely aware of Noah. At one point, he propped his arm on the armrest, and I could feel the warm cotton of his sleeve and the soft tickling sensation of his hair against my arm. I wanted to rub up against him, place my cold nose into his throat. I wanted to pull his arm around me and drape his hand on my thigh. But I remained in my own space, arms tucked close to my sides as if I was afraid that one movement might send to me lurching into his lap to try and act out some of the scenes on the screen.

A strange tension began to seep into my body as the movie ticked on. I imagined Noah lifting his hand from his own thigh and placing it on mine, moving up and down my bare leg in long sweeps, higher with each pass, until his fingers tucked right under the fabric of my skirt. The thought of Noah’s hand between my legs made me shift. Discomfited by him, I crossed and then uncrossed my legs.