Definitely, Maybe in Love(23)

Argyle is something of a lost art, I thought as I watched him drape his  jacket across the back of my desk chair. But dammit all if Knightly  doesn't pull it off.

"Mind if I change the music?" he asked, pointing at my laptop, though he  didn't wait for an answer. Lowering to the floor, he ran a finger over  the touch pad. "Where is my playlist?"

"Corrupted," I said. "The tracks suddenly wouldn't play, so I had to  delete them." I really hated to lie, but honestly, after what Mel had  insinuated, Henry's songs kind of freaked me out.

"That's strange."

I picked at my thumbnail. "Uh-huh."

"Well then, I guess these will have to do." He sat back on his heels and  continued scrolling through my iTunes library. "Janis Joplin," he said,  wincing. "Seriously?"

"Sometimes it makes me happy to be furious." I sank onto the floor  beside him. "Now, if you'll allow me." I reached over and took control  of my laptop. "I will educate you."

Two hours later, my sweater was off. So was Henry's. And his shoes. My  glowing laptop screen and the street lamp outside my window were the  only sources of light in the room.

"I quite like your coffee house girls," he said. "Your Sara and Ingrid."

"Better than Fiona Apple?"

Shoulder to shoulder, we lounged on my imitation sheepskin rug in front  of my laptop. As I reached to adjust the volume, Henry grabbed my wrist.  His hands were more calloused than I would've thought, yet his grip was  gentle. A surprisingly nice combination. I didn't mind it anymore when  he happened to touch me. It didn't mean anything. We were friends, study  partners … who happened to have shared one kiss about a million years  ago. Since Masen had approved the second draft, my research sessions  with Henry were probably over. I wasn't sure how I felt about that.

"Much better than Fiona Apple." He grimaced, hadn't cared much for Fiona  or Hole or early Alanis. Too much blatant feminist angst for him. "Your  people can do better."

"My people?" I said, sliding my hand out from his hold around my wrist. "That's an incredibly chauvinistic thing to say."

He groaned. "You know that's not what I meant."

I screwed up my eyes, fighting back a teasing smile.

"Another of my idiosyncrasies requiring improvement?" he asked. I  nodded. "Duly noted." He winked and rolled onto his stomach, reaching to  scan to another song.

Since that incident in his dark hallway, Henry and I hadn't shared  another romantic moment. Not even close. I considered that a  blessing-after all, I couldn't be expected to take studious notes while  he talked if I was constantly wondering if he tasted like cranberries.  Things were better this way. Like I'd told Mel: a maturing experience.

Most of the time, Henry was pretty entertaining to hang out with. His  constant oozing of self-confidence had been annoying at first, but the  more time we spent together, the more natural that feature was. He wore  his convictions well. Relaxed and confident was not an altogether  disgusting combination.                       
       
           



       

He was reading off the track list of an album, making critical yet  pretty hilarious comments under his breath while I silently gazed down  at the back of him stretched across my white rug. I couldn't help it. He  was right there, making me stare.

He wore jeans tonight. A rarity for him. And a pleasure for me. Earlier  in the evening, he'd pulled off his sweater, and what remained was one  of his million-dollar plain white T-shirts. It was V-neck. Fitted. Very  nicely fitted. His hair was as tousled as I'd ever seen it. He had a  cowlick in the back that was always smoothed down with gel. Tonight,  dark curls poked up in some places while falling carelessly in others.

He turned a bit, and the profile of his jaw and cheek caught the light.

Zowie.

Weeks had passed since I'd allowed my thoughts to remember him as that  stunningly beautiful guy outside Julia's window. To me, he'd become like  a faceless and bodiless Unix. Tonight, however, any blockhead could see  that Henry Knightly was chiseled from the very stones of Mount Olympus.  Bedeck him in chain mail and fleece and he was Adonis, Hector,  Odysseus … with just a touch of Fifth Avenue.

"Knightly?" I whispered to his back, though I had no idea what I wanted to say.

"Honeycutt?" he answered.

Nope, not a clue.

"Yeees?" he replied a second time.

Still watching his profile, I sighed again and finally responded with, "You're clueless."

He craned his neck to leer at me over his shoulder. "And yet you're here  with me in the middle of the night. What does that say about you?"

"That cluelessness isn't necessarily indicative of intellect?" I rattled  off, having a difficult time thinking straight or seeing anything but  his twinkling brown eyes. His tousled hair. His mouth.

Henry chuckled. "Appalling habits we share, don't you think?" he said as he rolled onto his knees.

"What habits?"

"Presuming too much," he began. "Wrongfully judging. Doubting our own  eyes." He rubbed his jaw. "That's the worst of the bunch, isn't it?" He  pressed play, and music filled the space between us. He'd just  downloaded a new song. Bruno Mars.

"I … " My mouth was suddenly dry. "I just remembered something."

Henry blinked up at me when I stumbled to my feet. "What?"

"Um … Coos Bay is getting a lot of moisture this winter," I said, backing  up toward my door. "I'm just going to run downstairs and get my raincoat  so I don't forget to take it home."

"Okay," he said, maybe wondering why I suddenly had to be out of the room.

The moment I was down my creaky stairs, I pressed both hands over my  heart and exhaled. After a few more breaths, I felt better, calmer. My  head was clearer, too. Maybe I'd been breathing in his cologne or  something. That should be my next rule: no hanging around guys who smell  like heaven. Or play me Bruno Mars. I really needed to make a list.

I grabbed my coat and was back in my bedroom a few minutes later, but  Henry wasn't down on the rug where I'd left him. He was in the corner by  the window, his phone at his ear.

"Yeah." He paused to laugh then noticed me. "Okay, okay, but look, I gotta go. See you later."

I glanced at my alarm clock. "Who was that?" I couldn't help asking.

"My father."

"It's three in the morning."

"Not where he is."

I folded the coat across my bag. "You're not spending the holidays with your family?"

"I am," he said. "I just remembered something that I wanted to run by him."

I sat down on the rug. "But you didn't spend Thanksgiving with them," I  suddenly remembered. I hadn't gone home because home was depressing, but  why hadn't Henry left?

"It wasn't worth traveling overseas," he explained, taking his same spot  at my side on the floor. "During the shorter breaks, I sometimes go to  my extended family in LA and Washington, cousins, aunts, grandfather."  He shrugged. "Or sometimes I'll go with Dart to New York. So, anything  happening downstairs?" he asked, turning on a new song.

Why did I get the feeling he was trying to change the subject?

"Dead quiet," I reported, leaning back against the bed frame. "Anabel is  out for the night, and I'm guessing Julia is with Dart at his place or  they're in her room."

"Really?"

"You sound surprised."

"No, I … " He scratched his chin. "She was over earlier today and I caught  part of their conversation. I didn't think they were hanging out  tonight."                       
       
           



       

I almost laughed. Julia had been looking forward to tonight all week.  She'd even had another "chat" with Anabel, though who knows what came of  that. I couldn't help feeling excited for Julia.

"Why are you smiling?" Henry asked.

"Oh." I cleared my throat. "Nothing, nothing. What song is this? Turn it up."

 …

Sounds from the street had ceased hours ago. Henry laid stomach-down on  my bed with his head hanging over the edge, while I lolled comfortably  on the floor. I could hear his even pattern of breathing above and  thought he was asleep.

Which was why his question startled me. "What do you want out of life?" he asked.

"Pass." I cracked one eye open to find him frowning down at me. "Topics  like that are outlawed for us, remember? No more arguing."

He bent his elbows and placed them flat on my bed, chin on top of his  hands. "I'd really like to know, though. Tell me." He chuckled and  rubbed his eyes, adding, "Please?"