And when she says it like that, how can I do anything but follow her?
I’m still nervous as hell and I barely hear the first few speeches. All I notice is that no one else is freaking out—at least not visibly. Some people are naturals, and others stumble a little, but no one who has spoken so far has gone full on catatonic, like I fear I might.
The TA calls our names and Paige takes my hand as I follow her up to the slightly raised platform at the front of the class. I seriously want to bolt, but at the beginning of the course, I promised Paige I wouldn’t bail and despite my meltdown in the hallway, I intend to keep that promise.
Dr. Winslow has placed two chairs and a table in the center of the stage, and told us we could sit if we wanted to. I distinctly remember him saying he didn’t need anyone fainting in his class. I also remember thinking I’d probably be that guy.
But with Paige next to me, I just might make it through this alive. As the TA sets the timer, I feel Paige’s small hand pat my thigh and I remember to take a deep breath.
“In five minutes, this will all be over,” she whispers.
Paige begins, and I’m not kidding—just the sound of her voice has a calming effect on me. She tells the audience all about me with ease. She doesn’t even look at her note cards once. They laugh when she tells them I’d set up a hockey rink on my desert island and I swear I hear a collectiveawwwwhen she says I’ve been skating since I could walk.
Before I realize it, she’s wrapping up and it’s my turn. Fuck.
I got this,I think to myself as I take a deep breath. But the words don’t come. It’s like my brain shorts and I don’t even know I’m supposed to look at my note cards. Or the audience. Or, hell, anywhere but the wall at the back of the classroom.
I feel her hand grip mine and squeeze twice. It’s gentle, but I can feel her strength. I take another deep breath in through my nose, and let it out through my mouth, hoping like hell the mic doesn’t pick up my breathing. Here goes nothing.
“Paige Underwood is from Albany, New York, and is the youngest of four siblings. She’s a history major whose next steps include taking the LSATs and going to law school. You guys all probably know Paige from her YouTube channel,The Cover Paigewhere she tests beauty and hair products and does makeup tutorials. If naming nail polish colors was a viable job option, that would be her ideal career path. Her favorite TV show isGood Girlsand if she were on a desert island, she’d throw a party.”
The class’s obligatory clapping lets me know my dreaded, and dreadful, speech is finally over. We stand up and walk off the stage. Instead of returning to our seats, Paige leads me through the side door and out into the hallway. I saw other people exit this way and figured they were getting a drink or something, but we still have a few speeches to listen to, so—
My thoughts are cut off as Paige launches herself into my arms. “Spencer! I am so freaking proud of you!” she whisper-yells, aware of the fact that speeches are taking place on the other side of this wall.
“Proud of me? I’m pretty sure I said that whole speech as one sentence and didn’t take a breath the whole time. I didn’t even look at my note cards. And I forgot a bunch of stuff. I lasted, like, thirty seconds.”
“There’s a joke there,” she smiles, “but I’m not touching it.”
“And there’s another joke.” I laugh.
“Seriously, I am so proud of you. Who cares if you forgot to tell them my favorite season or vacation destination? You didn’t think you could give a speech in front of a crowd, and guess what? You did.”
“I was sitting down. He’s not gonna let us sit for the other ones.”
“So, you’ll conquer that just like you conquered this. Be proud of yourself. You did the big, hard thing.”
“The big, hard thing? We seem to be following a theme here…”
“Haha. I’m serious.”
“And I’m grateful. I only did it because you were there next to me, honest. I couldn’t form basic words and then you squeezed my hand, and I got my shit together.” Maybe I’m caught up in the moment, or maybe I’m just caught up in Paige. Either way, I loop my arms loosely around her neck. When she leans into me and tilts her chin up, I bend down for a kiss.
Our lips meet, and hers are soft and warm. She parts hers and I deepen the kiss as I wrap my arms around her. Everything about Paige feels right and good, so I’m choosing to ignore the voice in my head that sounds exactly like my dad and is telling me this is the worst idea I’ve ever had.
There’s a rush of noise, and we both turn to see a flood of students exiting the other door.
“I guess class is over, huh?” she says with a laugh. “We should grab our stuff.”
“Yeah,” I follow her back into the class to collect our things, “I’ve got class and then practice later, but…”
“But?” she teases.
“But can I text you when I’m done? We can hang out, if you want to, or…”
Her smile is brilliant. “I definitely want to, but I have an LSAT study group until 10. I can text you later, though?” she asks, standing on her tiptoes to land a kiss on my cheek.
“Yes. Yes, please.” I say, stammering like a fool.
