Page 21 of Notes About Vodka

I can’t shake off the image of Laura zipping past me on her colorful moped the other morning.

She drives a scooter.

Shaking my head, I’m both impressed by her boldness and amused by her playful nature. The memory of her wide smile peeking out from under her helmet and the way she revved her little engine keeps replaying in my mind, and I can’t help but smile every time I think of it.

I keep looking for her in chemistry class ever since that day, but one of us always ends up being late. However, one day, I have some luck at NYU. She’s there, right behind my favorite spot, sitting with the same girl she always sits with if she makes it on time. I move quickly, dropping my backpack in the chair before turning toward her.

“Good morning, I see we are finally here at the same time.”

“It appears so,” she says with a small smile and a sly grin. “Good morning, Valerie.”

A girl next to her elbows Laura in the ribs before coughing. “Oh, and this is my friend Rhea. Rhea, this is Val, the bartender who works atPianissimowith me.”

“Nice to meet you, Rhea,” I say, giving her a nod.

Rhea grins. “Nice to meet you, too, Val. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Good things, I hope,” I reply, settling into my seat.

Laura chuckles softly. “Mostly good and don’t believe Rhea, I talked about you once, because she and our other roommate made me.”

Dr. Marsh enters the room, and the chatter dies down. He starts his lecture on free radicals and solving complex chemical equations. Normally, I’d be fully engaged, enjoying the challenge of understanding complex reactions, but today, my focus is fractured.

Every time Laura shifts in her seat or scribbles a note, my attention drifts to her. It’s frustrating—the material is important, and I know I need to pay attention, but she has this way of pulling my mind away, making it impossible to concentrate fully. I try to focus. But every time she answers a question or I hear her quickly jotting down notes, I feel drawn to her.

There’s something about her that’s just...different.

As class wraps up, I gather my things and turn to Laura and Rhea. “Hey, would you both like to grab a late breakfast or early lunch at the student center?”

Rhea’s eyes light up. “That sounds great!”

Laura, however, hesitates. “We can’t. We have something to do,” Laura says, glancing away as if avoiding eye contact. Her voice carries a hint of hesitation, and I can't help but feel like there's more she's not saying.

Rhea looks disappointed but doesn’t argue. “Maybe next time then?”

“Yeah, maybe next time,” Laura says, giving me an apologetic smile.

I watch them leave, shaking my head. There’s something they’re not telling me. The way Laura’s eyes avoided mine, the slight tension in her shoulders—it’s like there’s a wall between us that I just can’t break through.

I stare at the spot where Laura and Rhea just were, the sound of their footsteps fading down the hallway. My mind is a whirl of questions and unease.

Something’s off with Laura—she’s usually more engaged, especially at work, but today she seemed distant, like she was trying tohide something.

Something to do, she said. But what could be so important that she’d pass up the chance to hang out?

I replay the conversation in my head, trying to piece together any clues, but all I keep coming back to was that odd look she had in her eyes. It was as if she were somewhere else entirely, even while she was talking to me.

Rhea seemed friendly enough, but even she looked a little off when Laura turned down my invitation. It was in the way her smile faltered for a split second, her eyes flickering with something that looked like concern or maybe even frustration. Her body stiffened slightly, as if she wanted to say something but decided against it, masking whatever she felt with a quick laugh and a cheerful response. It was subtle, just a flicker of concern—or maybe frustration—before she masked it with a quick smile.

I can’t shake the feeling on unease.

As I walk out of the classroom, I pull out my phone and send Laura a quick text

Me: Hey, everything okay? You seemed a bit off today.

I hit send and shove my phone back into my pocket, not really expecting a reply. Laura’s not the type to open up easily, especially about whatever it is that’s bothering her. But I can’t just ignore it. I’m starting to care too much about her to just let it slide.

The student center is bustling when I arrive, the usual mix of students grabbing a bite between classes or huddled in groups, cramming for exams. I weave through the crowd, my thoughts still lingering on Laura. I spot an empty table in the corner and claim it, setting my backpack down with a sigh. The din of conversations fill the air, but it only amplifies my racing thoughts.

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