Read Arms Wide Open: a Novella for Free Online Page A

test.”
    Translation: I’m a perennial student
living in my parents’ basement, spending more time in virtual reality than
anywhere else.
    I decide to play nice, though, thinking
the universe might really go nutballs on me if I try to mess with him like I
did the last guy.
    “I hear you,” I say, trying to be polite.
“What interests you right now?”
    “Seriously? Everything. I want to study
it all. My undergrad was in women’s studies and I started a master’s program in
Russian literature, but I didn’t want to pigeon hole myself so young. I took a
few classes in human factors, but that didn’t feel like the right fit either.
I’m thinking I might try a class in social psychology this fall.”
    I nod in approval. “We have a great
program here. I just graduated with my master’s.”
    He leans forward eagerly. “Really?
That’s so interesting. Brains and beauty—I love it! What do you plan to do with
it? Are you considering a PhD?”
    I shake my head and laugh. “No, I think
I’m sick of school. I’d like to work with at-risk kids in shelters, maybe
counsel foster kids. They’re the ones we tend to forget as a society.”
    “So true, so true,” he murmurs. His head
is tipped down but his eyes stay fixed on me, and he’s really starting to creep
me out with that ‘come hither’ expression he’s wearing. It works on the cover
of a romance novel, maybe, if you’re a shirtless Viking, but in a scrawny dude
with tight plaid buttoned up to the neck? Not so much. I look away and take a
deep breath, trying not to shudder as something uncomfortable races down my
spine.
    I really have nothing to say to him
anymore. I glance at the pastry Jeremy gave me, and I look down as a smile
plays across my lips when I remember his kindness. I reach out and play with
the tissue paper absent mindedly, hoping Lennon will take up the rest of the
time because I got nothing. It occurs to me that he might mistake my smile for
encouragement. My brow furrows and I frown, but when my eyes meet his I know
it’s too late. The wrong signal has been sent.
    I’m guessing this won’t end well,
considering my track record so far this evening.
    “What is this?” he asks, reaching
forward to take my hand. He’s a little awkward and smashes the scone into the
paper, smearing white chocolate and raspberry glaze on both our hands as he
does. I sigh and look sadly at my squashed scone. I think it’s symbolic of my
life at the moment. I reach for a napkin to wipe up the mess.
    “Lennon, I need to run to the ladies
room to wash my hands. I’ll be right—”
    “No, Lauren, don’t leave! I can take
care of it.” He reaches into the man purse and pulls out a package of wet wipes,
and I have just a moment to ask myself if that’s a man bag or a diaper bag
before he grasps my hand. He caresses it lightly while trying to wipe up the
mess, but instead of the romantic moment I guess he’s trying to create, he accidentally
smears the raspberry sauce even more all over the back of my hand.
    “Sorry!”
    I get up and clutch my purse before he
can grab my hand again. “Really. It’ll just take me a minute.”
    “I’m so sorry. I’ll get you another
while you’re in the ladies room.”
    “Not necessary.”
    “I insist!”
    I walk back to the bathroom as quickly
as I can. I pray for a long line to delay me, but there’s just one girl who
looks as frazzled as I feel standing in front of one the sinks. She’s average
height with curly brown hair and pretty brown eyes, and wears a great pair of
skinny jeans, a blazer with rolled up sleeves, and some seriously wicked
high-heeled boots. She’s slowly and very thoroughly working bubbles over her
hands, bangle bracelets jangling with every move she makes. The soap makes a
sickening, squishing noise as it runs through her fingers. She stands there,
like she’s mesmerized, staring blankly as I squirt some foam soap into my own
hands and mirror her gestures.
    After a moment she looks