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My brother’s well-placed foot sends me sprawling into the mud just as the whoops and cheers of three himbos fill the air. Oh man, there go my visions of bragging about winning this game of capture the flag. I’ll just bitch instead, seeing as how Cal absolutely cheated anyway.
“What’re you doing down there, Loch-Tess Monster?” Callum’s lofty voice is coming from somewhere above me. I wonder if my thoughts made him appear, like some sort of horror-movie concept. I roll over with a groan, keeping my eyes on the tree branches above me, and not the broccoli-headed boy that’s trying to invade my vision. Broccoli is one of my favorite vegetables. Is there a nest in that tree? Wait. I need to address what he said.
“I told you… not to call me that.” I huff out, partially in annoyance and partially trying to conserve what little air I have left in my lungs. I sit up slowly, taking in the scene. My team, to my surprise, has joined me in the mud, just lounging. As for the other team… Daniel is rubbing his neck while the three himbos do some sort of chant, Cal waving the flag like a conductor’s wand. Dan glances down at me and shrugs. I scrunch up my nose and stick out my tongue.
“Sorry about that.” Dan says on our walk home, slinging an arm around my shoulders as we break off from the group.
I shrug his arm off of me. “I’m already covered in my own sweat, I don’t need to add yours!” We both laugh, a twin sound an octave apart. I’m brought back to last year, Rachel and I walking home from school. She and I sharing an identical laugh over some joke or another. She must be so lonely. It was hard when Daniel stopped going to school with me, but then Rachel caught up, and now I’m gone and there’s nobody there waiting to be Rachel’s… Rachel. Why does being the middle child feel so selfish?
“You-who!” Dan’s snapping his fingers in front of my face. “Did you want to come back and play Mario Kart, or? I got those pretzel twists you like.” Oh man, he’s the best brother ever. But…
“I’d love to, but I really should just get back to mine and shower before dinner. I shouldn’t fill up on pretzel twists before then anyway.”
“More for me.” Dan shrugs, as if we both know he won’t pour out some into a Ziploc to give to me on one of the many days where I forget to bring a snack to class. We fist bump and break apart, heading to our separate dorms. I pass a few people I know, but everyone must be keeping their distance because of the dried mud. Fair.
I pause when I get into the building. Taking the stairs would probably be a nice thing to do, so there’d be no chance of getting mud in the elevator, but I’m so sore… I send a quick apology to my mom in my head as I press the button. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.
I check my phone as I gather my toiletries. Nothing in the group chat… My stomach has been growling ever since Dan offered those pretzel twists, so I guess it’s up to me to round everybody up for dinner. I’ll start with Lili since she's the closest. I pass up my room completely, choosing to head over to her room in just my robe, toiletry bucket and all. Letting her know should be my first order of business, because then we’ll both have time to get ready. Oh man, moving up in the world! I think. A man with a plan!
I knock, a hand already on the door for when she inevitably says, 3, 2, 1. “Come in!” I turn the knob, words falling out of my mouth the second I can see into the room. I’m rambling, asking about dinner plans, when my eyes fall on the girl with the wavy hair settled next to Lili on her bed. My eyes flit to the pictures, confirming what I already knew.
“...Imogen, hi! I’m Tessa. Sorry—I usually wear clothes.” My face feels like it’s burning, why couldn’t I have said something neurotypical—
“Hi! Yup, Imogen. I wear clothes too.” I can’t help but laugh, a little startled and a little pleased that she didn’t just give me the awkward robotic chuckle that I’ve heard so many times in response to me saying something weird. I run my fingers through my hair, avoiding looking at her.
Lili interrupts whatever tension is most definitely not there by answering my earlier questions as if this interaction had never happened. “Yeah, we’re meeting everybody at Winterfield! We’ll be ready in five, too. See you there?” she chirps, and the message to clear out of her room is pretty obvious. I throw up a peace sign, stumbling backwards out of her room and closing the door. I run my hand through my hair again, not seeing the door in front of me. Wondering what Imogen Scott’s hair looks like when it’s wet.
I tug on the ends of my hoodie strings as the elevator goes down. I didn’t want to interrupt any more of Lili’s time reconnecting with her best friend. Who is also her ex. Maybe they weren’t just reconnecting, maybe they were rekindling—DING. I step out of the elevator and see the two—they’re not lovebirds—passing the elevator. No hand-holding in sight. Of course, I immediately open my mouth, which somehow leaves me trying to explain that I did not have sex with a bunch of guys, with my brother’s friends, as if that were somewhere a normal person’s mind would even go. Intrusive thoughts are the worst. Well, at least she knows I’m a lesbian.
I open my mouth again as we set off, feeling the need to validate my story. I’m running through the play-by-play when I hear Lili explain who Callum is, and realize that I’ve just been absolutely plowing through without context. Poor Imogen must be so confused. I backtrack, trying to explain how much Cal sucks without seething.
“I didn’t even know himbos had a monarchy.” Imogen jokes, and everything in my brain goes on pause, trying to remember what I was even saying. King of himbos. And then I’m busting up laughing before the thought even fully connects. I glance at Imogen’s side profile only to see her hair falling forward, covering her face except for the tip of her nose. She seems a little shy. That makes me think about April, my brother’s friend, who is definitely shy.
“Oh my goodness, I’ve also been thinking and I’ve come to the conclusion that Dan’s friend April is either his secret girlfriend or his secret plug, and seeing as how the world would have to freeze over before he would do drugs—well, the world freezing over is going to happen again eventually, so maybe that wasn’t the best analogy. But I mean we’ll all be dead by then anyway, so I suppose it still works…” I blather on, trying to ignore how Imogen is very obviously not listening. Her mouth has even fallen open a little. I don’t think I’m holding Lili’s attention very well either, and she even knows who Dan is! Did I explain who Dan was, first? Oh man. No way forward but through, I guess.
I can’t help but laugh at the look on Imogen’s face as she checks out the dining hall, all too reminiscent of a kid who’s lost her mom at the grocery store. Then I realize this could be my chance to get to know her a little better. I try asking her a few questions, but Lili cuts me off after the first one, and before I know it, they’re off getting grilled cheese. Right. Because of course Lili knows what foods her ex does and doesn’t like. Stop that, I tell myself. They were friends before they dated, that’s something she’d know regardless. I know that Lili isn’t trying to edge me out, but it still stings a little. I take a moment to collect myself, and by the time I’ve gathered my own food, I’m feeling better. The feeling improves when I see them waiting for me, lingering at the edge of the seating area.
I decide to just lurk as everyone else talks, trying to focus on my soup and not the girl that’s the center of everyone’s attention. Oh man, I feel like such a creep. All I know about this girl is that she’s really pretty, all she has been until now is pictures on the wall, a name in Lili’s mouth and contacts. Now she’s here, and I’m hearing her talk and laugh… I remember the joke she made, and add a third bullet point to the list of Things I’ve Learned About Imogen Scott Since Her Arrival. This means the list is out of order, but so is everything else in my brain.
- She’s even prettier when not in a grainy photo.
- She is deeply pro pizza.
- She’s witty (and didn’t know there was a himbo monarchy. Amateur.)
I’ve been hearing the conversation going on around me enough to pitch in when my name is mentioned, and even give an extra comment. Then I really am sucked into the conversation, because Imogen’s the one telling a story now, at least partially.
I ignore the twinge at hearing her say she has dirt on her ex-girlfriend, instead turning to her and saying, “Yeah, we’re keeping you.” I try to memorize the look on her face after that, a mix of awe and joy so radiant that I’d believe it if someone told me she was made of sunbeams.
I finally get to actually talk with Imogen as we’re headed back to the dorms to prep for trivia night. We’re going back and forth about how Imogen is absolutely going to help us obliterate the competition when Lili says something that makes me stop in my tracks.
My mind is full of fancy dinners and a flour-covered Imogen when I say, “You’re an award-winning chef? ” The image of a flour-covered Imogen shrinks to an eight-year-old flour-covered Imogen as she explains that she won a baking competition when she was younger. I high-five her and try not to notice how our hands are almost the same size. Then, Lili drops another piece of lore that has me confused. I tilt my head, imagining myself sitting in the eye doctor chair while Imogen is at the front of the room asking me what letters I can read on the board. Then my mind switches to Imogen in Pinterest outfits as she explains. This is getting to be too much information for the disorganized list in my brain. I try to convince myself that this isn’t the most cliché thing ever as I write down a list in my notes app, saying it out loud for Imogen’s benefit. I try to ignore how Lili chimes in with her ex-girlfriend information and compliments. And I try to act like it’s a totally casual thing to tap Imogen’s sneaker with my own.
As Imogen and Lili discuss her apparent perfect emoji usage, the thought crosses my mind that this is the perfect time to get an excuse to text her. Hey, wanna show me those emojis? No, that sounds weirdly dirty. Two can play at the emoji game, wanna try? No, also weirdly sexual and I don’t even think that I have any emoji game, if that’s even a thing. The moment passes as the elevator opens, and conversation dies as we approach my room. I give a short wave and quickly enter. Here’s a trivia question: How does Tessa stop her imagined crush from turning to a real crush?
I’m the one who convinced the group to start going to trivia night. I’ve always dreamed of having a quintessential friend group, and what does a quintessential friend group do if not quintessential friend group activities? Anyway, the rest were surprisingly down, and so we’ve been coming every time one’s been held since September. I really hope none of the others, Imogen and Lili especially, as they’re the ones I’m sitting between—between, as in, they aren’t sitting next to each other—notice me literally vibrating in excitement as I sit down. I already have a response for if they do, though. I need to regain the brain cells that I lost when I was playing with the himbos earlier. Sometimes I feel like one of my core personality traits is “hangs-out-with-her-older-brother’s-friends”. I hope not, although I guess it does make me feel sort of cool and mysterious. Then I’m holding in a laugh at the thought of myself as mysterious. Oh man, that word does not suit me.
The game goes quickly, with Imogen genuinely helping us win. I try to focus on the game and not on how I can physically feel her body moving as she breathes beside me. It culminates in me trying not to be too close while I peer over her shoulder as she looks for Waldo, but these games have never been my forte, and then she’s found it and it’s over and we’ve beat the girls who come here as some sort of weird pregame. The girl’s are nice, though, one of them offers to take our picture. And so we have a picture taken and it really is cute, and then there’s my opportunity! I get Imogen’s number from her and now she’s Part of the Group™ and I feel like I’m floating.
“Three Rebeccas. Tribeca.” Imogen makes another joke as Declan and Kayla are trying to act like their flirting is fake, and it hits me again just how witty she is. Then we’re all on our phones looking at Lili’s post, and there’s another opportunity! I’m following her without even giving myself a chance to look at her page, that’d be weird anyways because she’s literally right next to me and—oh man, she’s smiling at me— oh man, she followed me back. I guess I did look at her account, because her bio comes back to me. She/her. You can probably find me curled up with Quincy and a book.
I drink some applesauce as I type with one hand. Noticing your bio says nothing about Waldo skills? She doesn’t respond, but I glance at her phone to see her on her own profile. I click on her picture to see a shiny new addition, the first line of her bio: Skills: Waldo. I laugh, and my gaze catches on her name as I back out of her profile. Imogen Scott. I’m barely even thinking about it beyond oh man, that’d be fun as I say, touché, Scott, touché.
Then she’s looking at me, then she’s studying me, and I can feel my body tingling until she leans in and goes, “Is that—baby food?” I’m left off-balance, and scramble to defend my applesauce-drinking tendencies. We’re walking behind the group, heads leaned in to talk. After a few minutes, she stops responding. Desperate to keep her interest, I make some dumb comment or another, and she stumbles. Was that because of me? She hurries ahead to catch up with the group, and I’m standing there holding my applesauce. What a wingman this pouch has turned out to be.