Pieces of Me (8 page)

             
“Well, I guess I don't really have any other plans sooo—” He smiles sheepishly.

             
I blow a gush of air out of my cheeks. “Fine, come on in.”

             
He makes himself at home on the one and only couch in my small living room and Olivia restarts the movie from where we left off since Holden told her he had already seen it. 

             
I excuse myself to make some popcorn saying that the sweetness from all the ice cream needs to be countered with something salty or I'm going to get sick. But really, it's the idea of sitting next to Holden that has my stomach flipping in weird ways.

             
Eventually, I'm out of reasons to avoid the living room and I have no choice but to join them.

             
“Um, I made popcorn,” I say as I lamely hold up the large yellow bowl as though they didn't see it.

             
Holden is on the left side, and Olivia is on the right, leaving me no choice but to sit in between them.

             
Holden reaches over and steals some popcorn out of the bowl on my lap. Well, I guess he technically didn’t steal it since I did offer to share it, but it still feels like an invasion of my personal space. Maybe it’s because when he reaches into the bowl, his fingertips graze mine, lingering a little too long to be considered polite. His feathery touch sends tingles up my arm and down my spine. I look up at him and he just gives me a sort of half-grin, pops the popcorn into his mouth with exaggerated flair, and then promptly focuses his attention back on the movie.

             
He continues to do this for the duration of the movie. He never says a word, which I appreciate because, honestly, who likes to answer a million questions while trying to enjoy a movie? Sean used to irritate the crap out of me with all of his questions. I always told him to read the book ahead of time. He never did of course. Every time, he promised he would just enjoy the movie, but he would always end up asking me at least twenty questions.  

             
To say that it's awkward sitting here on my couch in between Holden and Olivia while thinking about Sean is an understatement. I can't even concentrate on Channing Tatum's supposed hypnotizing hips because I'm a little more than occupied with the way that a certain somebody keeps glancing over at me. I find myself trying to memorize his face in the few seconds that I allow my eyes to peek over at him until his features become familiar.

Chapter 10

I don't even look at the test until I get home that afternoon. I just can't do it for fear that I might do something embarrassing, like scream if I failed again, or jump for joy if I actually managed to scrape by with a pass.
              I'm glad I waited, because when I see that big, fat “F” mocking me from the upper right hand corner of the exam I spent weeks preparing for, I didn't scream—I cried like a freaking baby.
              Over and over again I read each question and then refer to the appropriate section of my textbook to find the correct answer. None of this even remotely makes sense to me. I've never felt like more of an incompetent idiot in my entire life. It's Bio 101, it's not Rocket Science. Why can't I get it?
              I know that I don't have a choice at this point; I obviously need all the help I can get.  I open up my notebook and dial the number slowly, my hands shaking. For some reason calling Holden on the phone makes me nervous. 
              “Hello?” he answers on the second ring.
              “Hi, Holden?” I ask just to make sure I dialed the right number. Maybe he gave me the wrong number as a prank. Okay, so that doesn't really seem like something he would do but you never know.
              “Yeah?”
              “It's Aria. I, um, I think I need some help.”
              “Are you okay?” There's a slightly panicked note to his voice.
              “Yeah, no I'm fine,” I assure him. “I just, uh, well, I failed another test so—”
              “Oh, do you want to set up a study time?”|
              “Yeah, I think I need to.”
              “Well, I'm free on Tuesday and Thursday evenings. Does that work for you?”
              “Yeah, that works. Thanks.”
              “Okay, I'll see you later—”
              “Wait!” I interrupt. “Um, I know that you probably have plans already, but if you aren't busy, do you think you could maybe help me tonight? I know the next test is still a few weeks away but I'm really not understanding any of this crap and I'm freaking out over here and—I'm being dumb. Of course you have plans. Sorry, I can wait. I just get—”
              “I'll be over in a few minutes, okay?”
              “What?””
              “I don't have anything going on tonight. I'll be over soon.”
              “Oh, okay.” I breathe a sigh of relief. “Thanks.”
              We hang up and though I am thankful that he can help me, I'm also really freaked out now—and not just because of my failing grade. I don't know why I'm so nervous about him coming over here. I guess I just thought we'd meet somewhere more neutral, like the library or even The Java Bean. Why didn't I just suggest that when he said he was coming over? What if he thinks this is something more than just a study date? I don't really know this guy. It was weird enough having him here with Olivia acting as a buffer. I mean, that impromptu movie night was awkward enough.  Just the two of us here? Alone? What was I thinking
              Maybe when he gets here I can suggest that we go to the library. I think I'd probably feel better in public.
              A few minutes later I hear a light knock on the door. I take a deep breath before answering, still unsure why this is making me so uncomfortable.
              “Hi,” I greet him.
              “Hi,” he says as he fidgets awkwardly in my doorway. “Um, can I come in? Or do you want me to try to tutor you from out here? I mean, I'm game and all but I might get a little chilly. And well, it's kinda dark.”
              “Uh, yeah. Sure. Of course,” I say, flustered.  I step back away from the door so he can come in.
              He walks right in and makes himself comfortable on the hand-me-down couch, sitting in the same spot he did during our movie night. He opens his book and starts sifting through some papers.
              “Where do you want to start?”
              “Start? The next unit, I guess?”
              “Well,  I think we should probably review the concepts we've already discussed in class to make sure you understand before moving on to the rest of it, right?”
              “I guess so.”
              “It might be helpful,” he says with that smirk I'm becoming familiar with. “The next unit is taking a more in depth look at genetics. You will be going over the molecular side of things. None of which are directly related to the reproduction of plant cells but it's a little more complex than the Punnett squares from the last unit. I feel like we should really focus on that for now but we definitely need to go back and review earlier chapters at some point since they will be on the final. We've got some time though.  Let's get you ready for the next test and then we can go back and figure out what it is you’ve been struggling with.”
              “Um, that would be all of it.”
              He chuckles. “Alright then, let's go over the next chapter tonight. We can work on the rest tomorrow.”
              “ I thought you could only help on Tuesdays and Thursdays?”
              His eyes shift down to look at my test that I left lying on the coffee table. With a playful smirk he says, “It appears that you may need me more than just twice a week.”
              I bite my lip and consider that. It's true. I obviously am not capable of teaching this crap to myself. I definitely need a tutor and here is Holden, ready and willing to help. What did I think when I called him? That he would come over for one study session and I'd magically know all the material? While that would be nice, it isn't realistic. But still...
              “I don't know...”
              “Look, you called me. You obviously feel like you need my help. How about I just help you get ready for the next test and we can go from there?”
              “Do I need to pay you for your time?”
              He scoffs, but doesn't answer my question. “C'mon, let's just get started.  DNA replication.”
              “Which is?”
              “The process of producing two identical copies from one original DNA molecule.”
              “Okay. How does that work?”
              “You do know what DNA looks like, right?”
              “Yeah, it's that swirly line thingy.”
              “I do believe that swirly line thingy's technical term is a double helix.”
              “Yeah, that.”
              He chuckles. “This might take a while.”
              He gets out his pencil and paper and draws a diagram of DNA and starts talking about base pairing and DNA polymerase enzymes. I have a feeling it's going to be a long night.

             
Sometime later, my head is killing me and I hate biology just as much as I did before but at least now some of it is starting to make a little more sense. My stomach growls and I check the time on the clock hanging on the wall above the entertainment center.

             
“How is it already after eight?” I wonder out loud with a yawn as I stretch my arms above my head. My  back is killing me from being hunched over this book for the last few hours.

             
“I'm starving,” Holden says slamming the book shut. “Let's go grab a bite to eat.”

             
My shoulders tense and my stomach churns uncomfortably. Holden must have noticed my reaction because he adds, “Friends eat dinner together all the time, Aria. We did it just the other day, remember? It's not a big deal.”

             
Why am I being so weird about this? He's right, friends do grab dinner together. I just had dinner with Olivia the other day and it didn't cause me to have a near-panic attack, but throw Holden into the mix and all of a sudden I'm a mess. What's the difference?

             
The difference is that as much as I don't want to admit it, I'm attracted to Holden. Who wouldn't be? Yeah, he's good looking but it's more than that. I think it has more to do with the way that he looks at me. It's hard not to be affected by that amount of intensity.

             
He's funny and charming and thoughtful and—
he's currently staring at me waiting for me to answer.

             
I'm beginning to question his sanity—why would anyone want to be friends with a crazy person like me unless they were just as crazy?

             
“Okay. Dinner. As friends.”

             
His answering grin is enough to make my heart melt—that is if  my fractured heart was capable of feeling anything. As it is though, I almost don't notice the tiny spark beginning to shimmer faintly every time I'm around him, but it's there, softly flickering in the darkness of my heart.

             
“Let's go,” he says as he holds open the door for me. I check to make sure the door is locked and follow him out into the parking lot outside of my apartment. 

             
“Is this place within walking distance?” I ask hopefully.

             
He chuckles before answering, “Nah. It's not far though. We can take my ride.”

             
“Where'd you park?” I don't see his piece of crap car anywhere. I'm guessing the minivan parked closest to us doesn't belong to him either, or the familiar black Subaru I refuse to even look at, which leaves the only other option...a very unfortunate option indeed. He chuckles instead of answering my question and I feel like I am about to be the butt of a really bad joke.

             
Just as I fear, Holden stops in front of the two-wheeled death machine. I feel the color drain from my face as my stomach drops to the ground in a nervous heap.

             
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I freeze dead in my tracks. “I am
not
getting on that thing.”

             
He chuckles again as he pulls out an extra helmet.

             
“Seriously, there’s nothing you can say that will possibly get me to ride on that thing.”

             
He places the helmet on my head despite my protesting and adjusts the strap.

             
“Hmm.”

             
“What?”

             
“You look cute in a helmet.”

             
“Still not going to happen,” I tell him adamantly.

             
He swings my feet up and cradles me like an infant. I flail and kick, but it's no use. Before I know it he has me situated on the back of the bike and takes a step back to admire the view with a satisfied grin plastered on his face.

             
“I’m not going anywhere on this thing,” I say as I attempt to slide off, but he stops me before I make it very far.

             
“Could you just trust me?” His blue eyes are warm and I find myself unwittingly caught under his spell despite all of my efforts to act unaffected. I take a deep breath and nod. He climbs on and I hesitantly wrap my arms around his middle. I squeeze my eyes shut and hold on tightly as he revs the engine to life. I bravely open one eye to peek. He glances over his shoulder at me. “You might like it.”

             
“Don’t count on it, Buster,” I mutter under my breath.

             
He laughs and then we're flying out of the parking lot. I think of nothing but the cool wind rushing around me as we speed down the street. I take in the crisp fall air that is starting to carry the smell of burning leaves and cider mixed in with the heady scent that is all Holden.

             
He zips through the winding streets of the neighborhood until we're out on the main road in town.  Something about the other cars zooming past us makes me grip him even tighter and I feel the rumble of his laughter. He slows the bike down to a purr then he brings it to a complete stop in front of a local Italian bistro. He puts his feet down on the ground, straddling the bike to keep it steady before looking back over his shoulder.

             
“Still in one piece?”

             
“Barely,” I say trying to hide my smile which causes him to smile arrogantly in return. I hop off and remove my helmet, running my hands nervously through the dark tangled mess that is the current state of my hair. Normally I don’t care what I look like, but right now, standing with him in the seclusion of this practically empty parking lot, things feel different.

             
“Do you like Italian?”

             
“Who doesn't?”

             
“This place is the best.” He starts to reach out his hand like he wants me to hold it but at the last second he drops it back down to his side and I'm relieved that I'm not left with that decision. It’s such a seemingly innocent gesture, but one that can sometimes mean something more than just friendship.  I'm not ready to decide whether I want to cross the line into that territory of something more with anyone just yet.