Chapter 4

"Hi," she said. "I'm Allison."

Sedgewick just about fell out of his chair. He'd been eating in a quiet corner of the cafeteria, his back to the world and his eyes scanning his art history notes. A girl came up behind him, practically sprinted, and jumped to a stop right in front of him. She rested her leg on the chair opposite Sedgewick and retied her running shoes, showing smooth legs that weren't tanned or sculpted to perfection, but still got his attention. She wore a baggy pair of green running shorts and a black long-sleeve t-shirt with the slogan "Petra means rock" plastered across the front. It was faded and thin, suffering from a few too many washes. Her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, though strands of hair had come loose and were shifting in the air.

She was smiling, almost on the verge of bubbling, but managing to keep it in. She had watched Sedgewick's reaction when she first bounded up, but quickly turned to tying her shoes to avoid his gaze.

She looked tired, though energized, from her morning run, and was still breathing heavy. She had bright green eyes and Sedgewick found himself wondering just how deep the eyes of this fourth college girl went.

Sedgewick opened his mouth to speak after what felt like minutes, but was only seconds, and was only just now becoming an awkward pause. He closed his mouth again and smiled. He leaned back in his chair and his left hand dove for his pocket and he started twirling his pen with his right hand.

"Sedgewick," he finally managed. "I'm Sedgewick." He was totally unprepared for this. It couldn't be right. Such an encounter usually required a hundred failed tries, hours of watching and waiting and wondering when the right time would come. But it had all been stolen from him, snatched out right before his eyes, keeping him from all the longing and drama and forever waiting. Sedgewick couldn't believe his luck.

"Sedgewick?" she repeated, as if taken aback. "Well, it's good to put a name to a stock boy." She smiled. There was no second-guessing it now. She was definitely the green-eyed fourth college girl, and she was definitely talking to Sedgewick. But her manner, her style seemed to indicate a bad end. Stock boy?

Sedgewick nodded. He kept fiddling with his pen.

"Look," she said, reaching and grabbing Sedgewick's pen. He could feel the heat in her fingers, a sensation that went all the way to his toes, and his fingers went limp and he let the pen go. "I don't normally do this. But it's a big campus and I didn't think I'd see you again until we ran out of ramen and Diet Coke."

She paused, and Sedgewick realized her cheeks were red, bright red, not from running, but from this. Her fingers twitching slightly, just like Sedgewick's, and they happened to still be touching, faintly, as if to keep Sedgewick from reaching for his pen again. Sedgewick smiled, remembering the grocery cart of college survival food. He always wondered what ramen actually was that it could be so cheap, and was thankful he could live with his grandmother and not brave the dorms.

"Here," she said, taking Sedgewick's hand in hers and picking up his pen, the cap bent and twisted from absent minded fiddling. She wrote a series of digits across the back of his hand, careful to let the ink flow and not push too hard on his skin. "I know this is an incredibly high school thing to do, but I've got to get to class. Give me a call sometime."

She dropped the pen and stood up, ready to take off as quickly as she'd come.

"Wait," Sedgewick said, reaching for her arm. "Why…" he trailed off, unsure of what to say. But Allison knew what he meant. She wondered herself.

"Because I believe…" she said, trailing off but smiling slightly. She walked away. Sedgewick watched her go, and then turned back to his art history notes, carefully copying her number above the dates for American expressionism, in case something should happen to his hand before he could get to a phone.