Page 40 of Love in the Stacks
“Fine, we’ll see. But second, you’re fidgeting too much up there.”
I am? I don’t remember fidgeting. But even here, in a room containing only Nicole, reading the script felt almost like an out-of-body experience. Who knows what I did.
“Start again,” Nicole urges, “but this time focus on holding your hands and feet still.”
I take a deep breath and start reading again from the beginning of my script. I don’t get nearly as far as the first time before Nicole stops me.
“No, you’re still … you’re still fidgeting.” She blows out an exasperated breath. “Here, I have an idea.”
She stands and circles around the podium to walk up behind me. Positioning her arm below mine, she takes the pen I’m still holding out of my hand. “First, we’ll put this down. Actually, let’s move it out of the way completely.” She tosses it across the room.
“Hey!” I protest.
“It’s for the best,” she insists. “You were spinning it around and clicking it and it was distracting from your words. No pens around you during the presentation.”
“Oh,” I say, chagrined. Didn’t realize I was doing all that. “Yeah, that’s a good plan.”
“Now,” she says, reaching her other arm around and positioning it below my other arm. We’re standing with my back to her front, with her arms underneath mine, her hands curled around my wrists. Because of the size difference, she’s practically plastered against me,and I feel the weight of her on my back like pressure points. “I’ll hold you steady while you talk so that you don’t fidget. Start again.”
I take another breath, but my heart is racing, and it has nothing to do with public speaking. I start reading. Her hands grip my wrists with more pressure, keeping them firm against the podium. I realize with a start that I had been trying to lift them. She’s right about the fidgeting.
I continue, losing focus on the words I’m saying as the warmth from Nicole’s body seeps into mine. I’m sure she can feel my pulse going crazy in my wrists. But tuning into my body for a moment while my eyes continue reading and my mouth continues saying words, I recognize a flutter on my wrist—Nicole’s thumb skating almost imperceptibly across my skin. Back and forth in a very intentional-seeming path. Against my back, I feel her heartbeat drumming at a wild pace. Farther up, her cheek rests against the top of my spine.
I close my eyes; the words coming out of my mouth slow and then stop altogether. But Nicole doesn’t say anything, doesn’t seem to notice. My pulse slows, and her heartbeat matches the pace. And then we’re quiet, hearts beating together in a steady rhythm. I hold still, reluctant to move and break this spell, knowing that at any second, Nicole could pull away, realize what we’re doing and put a stop to it.
And then, as predicted, she does. Her arms drop, and she steps away. I immediately feel the absence of her heat against my back. I want to spin around and pull her to me, tuck her head under mychin and continue holding her. But I don’t. Instead, I move to the side, giving her space.
I clear my throat and looking her in the eye, I ask, “Was that any better?”
She holds her arms, hands moving over the fabric of her sleeves as if she’s trying to warm herself up, but her cheeks are flushed. She glances away and says into the distance, “Yeah, that should work.”
The conference is next week. In between creating slides and public speaking practice and my normal job, I’ve registered for the conference, booked my hotel room, and reserved a spot for Joan at a local doggie resort. I told my mother about the conference, of course, and she’s excited for me. More so after I told her the presentation topic, and she realized it was based on the project I had been working on with Nicole. Yes, I had explained to her, Nicole is also going to the conference. Yes, we’re driving together.
For our final public speaking session, Nicole decides we should do a full run through of the presentation with our slide deck and both of us speaking. And an audience. Considering the first two sessions, I wonder if inviting the small audience has more to do with practice for me or protection for herself. Not protection against me, to be clear, but protection against herself since she, for some reason, feels like she needs to resist anything happening between us.
We meet during work hours to make things easier for our audience, which consists of Tasha, Herb, and Susan from the library, andAshley, who Nicole has apparently developed a friendship with since Soapbox. Definitely feeling smug about that one.
I treat the rehearsal as if it’s the real presentation. I arrive in the classroom thirty minutes before we’re supposed to start. I get the laptop connected and pull up the slide deck, making sure that the projector is working, and the screen is in place. Before anyone else arrives, I do the whole shaking-out-my-jitters thing, rolling my shoulders and jogging in place for a few minutes.
Nicole comes in with Ashley, the two of them laughing about something. Ashley takes a seat, and Nicole joins me at the front of the room.
“You doing okay?” she whispers.
“So far, so good,” I answer. “I still need to do my breathing.”
She fiddles with the slide deck to give me space. I do a couple rounds of box breathing as the rest of our audience trickles in. I even take a minute to visualize the presentation. Not sure how effective it is though, because while I imagine Nicole’s portions going flawlessly, mine look a little shaky in my mind’s eye.
After a few minutes, Nicole gets everyone’s attention, and we start. She speaks first and when she transitions to me, she gives me an encouraging smile. I stand at the podium, my hands flat against the surface. I focus on keeping still and looking up from my script at the audience every so often. Nicole is in charge of advancing the slides, so I don’t need to worry about how I’ll fumble that. When I pass the figurative mic back to Nicole to finish the presentation, I breathe a sigh of relief. Nicole wraps up her last section and then calls for questions, signaling the end.
Our makeshift audience applauds, and Nicole bows theatrically. Turning to me, she says quietly, “We’ll debrief in a few minutes.” Then, she walks over to our colleagues in the room to talk to them.
Herb approaches me. “Excellent presentation!” he says as he pats me on the back. “You’ll both make us proud at the conference next week.”
“Thank you,” I say, chagrined.
When the audience members have all filed out of the room, Nicole comes back up front where I’m still standing.
Palms up, I lift my hands in question. “How was it?” I ask, cringing to hear the answer.
