Eons Until I Reach You

CASEY'S CRUSH

After class I loiter with Casey outside campus, bike balanced in one hand, discussing next week’s schedule and waiting for Nate to join us for dinner. Casey skips a stone along the pavement, sporting an unusual-for-her perky mood. The sky is overcast as it had been the whole day. With the promise of rain and a chill permeating the air, wind cuts into my face, but I welcome feeling more alive than I have felt in a lot of days.

“s**t, I forgot my umbrella,” Casey says, reading my mind. “Please tell me you’re carrying one in that satchel.”

I give her a flat look. “Not even after Weather app declared rain for the rest of the week.”

Casey, with her balayage strawberry blonde hair, ocean blue eyes and a model-thin build, contrasts my dark curtain-y hair, green-eyed normal-thin look. “Ah, well. It’s not like we don’t have someone to torture a ride out of.”

“Well, that someone is fashionably late. Again.”

“So I was thinking of asking you something,” she starts in a breezy tone.

“Who’s the guy?” I ask, cutting to the point, recognizing that ‘look’. Not that I hadn’t already guessed who it is.

She turns beet-red. “What do you mean?”

“The guy you are crushing on, salivating over, more like,” I explain. “I caught that dreamy look in the office. And you have been wearing more make up than usual. I did the math.”

“Nate,” she admits shyly.

Nathan Gardner is what you would call an enigma- amply blessed by luck in looks, social skills, and plays the piano enough to beguile a room. Considering the harem that follows him around and the public history of broken hearts in his wake, I question Casey’s choice of boyfriend material.

Then again, she is an unstoppable train once her mind hooks on something. An intensity that worked out well for us in a previous assignment that crossed well over its deadline.

“So, why Nate?” I ask mildly, heaven forbid I come across as judgemental.

She turns visibly nervous, frowning as she regards the pavement. “I felt like we have this spark sometimes. Like he would walk in the room in the morning and seek me out at my desk with that enticing smile. Last week, remember he defended me when Flynn was on my tail for that memo I kept forgetting to send out? I could be wrong. God, I hope I’m right. Has he mentioned me, by any chance?”

“Well,” I start diplomatically. How do I put a spin on ‘Nate tends to throw these sparks unintentionally’?

“He talks to you more than the rest of us,” she urges.

“Um, yeah.” I turn to check the distance for incoming cars, lost for words. “He hasn’t mentioned anything… yet. We generally avoid discussing the dating situation, to be honest. Mine or his.” And it was true. If we end up discussing his many dates his mother forces on him, we’d need Beth’s entire stock of wine. And a whole night.

“Oh.” Disappointment colors her face.

I search for a soothing sentence, along the lines of ‘Don’t give up yet’ before stepping back from that sure-to-be mistake. If I’m callous, I’d be setting her up for disappointment. Before I can decide, a fat water droplet splashes on my arm followed by rain drumming down like pellets.

A red Camaro glides to a halt skirting the pavement, automatic doors sliding open. From inside, Nate motions for us to hop in.

“Quick. Get in,” I yell to Casey, who is already half-way in the back seat.

With no time to stow my bike in his trunk, I lock it against the stand and jump in, shotgun.

“Like always. Perfect timing,” Nate comments in a matter of fact tone, swerving the car around.

My eyes snag on Casey blushing in the backseat and decide that she is justified. Nate’s visuals are striking, what with his smooth brown hair and eyes greener than mine. In high school, he hadn’t yet figured out how to groom himself and spent fairly enough time being an antisocial wallpaper. Until senior year, when the school was presented with a new bolder idol version and no one had complained.

“How was class, ladies?” he asks, glancing at Casey in the mirror.

Casey blinks.

“So-so. I’m starving. Can we just go eat?” I interrupt, buying the girl time to get her bearings.

He accommodates easily. “Found the best themed Japanese restaurant but it’s uptown and leaning towards the pricey side.” He notices my subtle almost-broke-and-saving-for-Italy induced cringe. “My treat,” he adds quickly. “I got appreciated last week for the Keys museum project.”

I shake my head. “It’s fine, Nate. We’ll go.”

The skies clear by the time we arrive at a low-rise building designed mimicking a traditional Japanese one, lantern-illuminated entrance inviting us in. We spend a good ten minutes analyzing the menu, from salads and soup to sushi, priced at varying alarming rates.

I sense Nate’s eyes on me while I ponder about efficiency in splitting ramen two-by-third. I mean, Casey eats like a bird- which shows. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I ask him on a whim.

“Ramen, two-by-three?”

Casey’s eyes widen when mine does. “How?” I ask, wringing a hand to project my admiration for his mind-reading skills.

“You’re easy, trust me.” He summons the waiter. “For me,” he adds like an after-thought.