Page 27 of Offsides

Forcing myself to ignore the weight of his attention, I keep myself focused on the lecture, typing anything and everything that the professor says and ruthlessly deleting all of the times my nonstop typing swerves into stream of consciousness rambling about Eli and what’s his problem anyway?

Delete delete delete delete.

It’s a relief when the lecture ends a few minutes early with Dr. Howard clapping his hands together and saying, “Welp, we got through everything fast today. Not a lot of need for questions if you understand it all already, amiright?” Booming chuckle. “See you next time.”

In the metallic clicking of laptops shut, bag zippers opening and closing, and the general shuffling of humans and their various objects, I don’t hear Eli approach. Or maybe my determined ignoring of him prevents me from noticing until I glance up and jump in shock, because he’s standing right in front of my desk, between me and the back of the seat in front of me.

He gives me a boyish grin, his hands shoved into the pockets of his joggers. “Hey. Got a minute?”

“Uhhh …” He knows I don’t have a class after this. We often grab a coffee together now. Is that what he’s expecting? “Um …” I hem. Stellar work, D. You’re acing this prevarication and escape thing.

“Look,” he interjects before I can cobble together any kind of convincing lie, “I know you’re mad at me. And you have every right to be. I’ve been a complete dick, and I’m really sorry.” He bends a little at the knees, catching my eyes with his warm brown ones, radiating sincerity and what appears to be genuine remorse. “Truly. I won’t make excuses for my behavior, because there really are none. You’re the coolest chick I know, and I shouldn’t have ever done or said anything to make you think I feel any differently.”

His cheeks are turning pink the longer he talks, and that has me sitting back in my seat and taking notice more than even his words. It’s a good apology, I’ll give him that much. I’m not quite ready to forgive and forget, but it’s softening me toward the idea at least.

But why is he embarrassed?

“Um, I, uh, I got you something.” He’s lowered his voice, and his eyes dart around the room.

I cock my head to the side, my eyebrows raising in question. From his reaction, I’m scrolling through a zillion guesses, each worse than the last. Did he get me … like … a sex toy?

No, surely not.

But … why else would he be so embarrassed?

His hand comes out of his pocket, and he drops something on the desk in front of me. It’s a pink paperboard envelope with the name of a beauty store emblazoned across it. I glance at him, my forehead wrinkled in confusion, then open the envelope to find a fifty dollar gift card inside.

Wide-eyed, I look up at him again. He scratches his cheek. “Uh, well, um, I’ve noticed that you’re”—he gestures at me with one hand—“y’know, like, uh, doing some different stuff. With your look. I thought if you wanted to keep experimenting or whatever …” He shrugs one shoulder. “That might help. I could, um, take you. One night this week or over the weekend. Or whenever. Just let me know.”

Carefully, I fold the envelope closed around the gift card and hold it in both hands, blinking at Eli. “You … want to take me shopping? For … makeup?”

“Yeah. Or, like, hair stuff? I mean, whatever you want. Or need. Or …” Another jerk of a shrug. “Sorry. I feel like an idiot. I just … I l—” He clears his throat. “I like you. You’re one of my best friends. I know you had a rough breakup, and I managed to make everything worse. I’d like the chance to make it better.”

I bite the inside of my cheek and look down at the gift card in my hands, my mind catching on the stuttered L sound that he … corrected? … to like. Or is that what he meant to say? And he’s feeling choked up? That’s why he stopped and cleared his throat?

“Um, I’m not quite sure what to say,” I manage after a moment. “Thanks? I mean, genuinely, thank you, both for the apology and the gift card.” Standing from my seat, I sling my backpack over my shoulder and hold up the card. “You really didn’t have to do that, but I appreciate the thought.” He stares at me hopefully, and I feel a little bad for not just trying to go back to normal and saying,Hey, let’s grab a coffee. But I can’t do that. Not yet. Maybe not ever. I really don’t know. And this, while nice, doesn’t actually clarify anything for me.

He steps back and points at the card. “Yeah, sure. Of course. You’re welcome. And, um, just let me know when you want to go. Okay?”

“Umm …” I nod. “Yeah. Okay.” I don’t know if I mean it, but I feel like saying anything else would just drag this out for longer, and I need to get out of here.

He flashes a quick grin, relief coming over his features. “Good. Great. I look forward to it.”

I stand in the middle of the classroom as he moves to the door, holding up a hand to wave goodbye before exiting. With a wan smile on my face, I wave back, then stare at the gift card again.

What the fuck am I supposed to do with this? And if I were going to go shopping for makeup, why would I bring aguy?

* * *

I’m sitting on the couch reading for my World Lit class tomorrow when Autumn gets home.

Her face lights up when she sees me. “Dani! How was your day?”

“Good.” I mark my place in my textbook with my finger, somewhat surprised by her enthusiastic reaction to seeing me. Not that Autumn isn’t enthusiastic to see me at other times, it’s just that this feels … different, somehow. And I’m not sure exactly how or why. “How are you?”

She grins, setting her crossbody bag on the floor and toeing off her Ugg boots before claiming her spot in the armchair and tucking her legs under her, fuzzy socks in muted rainbow colors covering her feet. Even I know that Ugg boots aren’t particularly fashionable. Somehow Autumn makes it work, though, with her dedication to cozy chic—chunky, oversized sweaters, scarfs in every color, fingerless mitts that she wears in and out of the house, plus the boots. In the spring and summer she favors long, dangly earrings, but she dials that back in the winter to simple drops and hoops, I’m guessing because the long chandelier styles would get caught in her knits.

“I’m great,” she says, wrapping her hands around one knee. “You had your bio class today, right?”

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