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The rest of the week goes by in a blur, studying with Nolan and spending most of the afternoons and evenings with Andres.
Friday afternoon, Nolan and I sit outside our classroom before class, discussing our plans for when Abby and Cara come to visit this weekend. We’re meeting them at the airport this evening. I’m keeping my hands busy, searching for my ChapStick in my backpack.
I’ve managed to keep from holding hands or walking arm in arm with Nolan all week by always keeping my hands busy—going through my backpack, flipping through my notes, fiddling with my hair, or fussing with my outfit. I’ve gotten really good at avoiding contact. Either Nolan knows what I’m doing, or he thinks I’ve recently developed a severe case of ADD. If he knows, he doesn’t address it, and I’m grateful. I
