Flat-Out Love

“Matt? I’m bored.” She glared at him as he kept typing. “Matty?” He didn’t respond, and it aggravated Julie that he could be so narrowly focused on his computer that the rest of the world ceased to exist. Julie took her laptop from the table. She’d have to take a different approach. Email.

Dear Matthew Watkins,

Whatcha doing? I’m bored. Let’s build a snowman. Or a snow…a snow… a snow magnetic field formula!

Sincerely,

Julie Seagle

Julie sat back and waited until Matt’s email sounded. Unlike the rest of the world, he didn’t jump to see what Nigerian prince had bequeathed him millions of dollars or which company had a special offer promising to save him piles of cash on his next order of male enhancement products. Maybe he didn’t need either. Well, good for him.

“Aren’t you going to check your email?” she asked loudly.

“Why?” he muttered.

“It could be an invitation to speak at some exciting math event. Or the long-lost love of your life writing to say that she is desperate to win back your affections.”

“I’m sure it’s both of those,” Matt said, but she saw him click the touchpad.

She watched him as he read her note, expressionless, and then typed for a few seconds. Now her email sounded.

Dear Julie Seagle,

While there are a number of charming magnetic formulas to choose from, I have concerns about constructing a concept. I was thinking something more along the lines of replicating the Large Hadron Collider. 

You in?

Sincerely,

Matthew Watkins

Julie let out an exaggerated sigh.

Dear Disagreeable One,

I’ll meet your counter offer of the Large Hadron Collider and raise you the addition of a snow Clive Owen.

You in?

Slightly less sincerely,

Julie Seagle

P.S- Sorry. I’m sure you don’t know who Clive Owen is. Just play along.

P.P.S. Just because you have on that bulky sweatshirt doesn’t mean that I don’t know you’re wearing a stupid, geeky T-shirt underneath it.

Matt read her email without looking up and smiled.

Dear Wardrobe Assessor,

I’m in.

Still sincerely,

Matthew Watkins

P.S. I do not have on a “stupid, geeky T-shirt.”

 

Julie marched over to Matt. She stood in front of him and crossed her arms. “Lift up your sweatshirt.”

Matt rolled his eyes. “God, you really know how to turn a guy on.”

Julie didn’t budge. “If I was trying to turn you on, I could do better than that. Now, lift up your sweatshirt.”

Matt looked up at her and tried to look serious. “Julie, I’m completely offended that you have so little faith in my honesty. I thought at this point in our friendship that you would at least—”

“Get up.” Julie leaned over and shut his laptop. “Get up!” she said again.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Matt said laughing, but he stood up. “I trust you implicitly, and it wouldn’t kill you to show me the same respect.”

“Show me!”

Matt sidestepped the chair and took a few steps backward. “You have quite the attitude today. Suspicious and mean.”

Julie took a step forward, causing Matt to continue backing away. “Lift up your shirt.”

“Look, I appreciate an aggressive woman, but this is really getting weird.”

Julie grabbed his sweatshirt by the waist cuff and lifted it up with one hand, as she pulled down his T-shirt with the other. Matt put his hands over hers, lightly protesting, but she refused to let go. “Aha!” She squinted at his shirt. “OK, I don’t even know what this is, but it’s definitely geeky.”

Matt’s hands were still on hers, but he’d given up trying to hide his shirt. “It’s a representation of a caffeine molecule. You should love it, considering your addiction to those horrible drinks you’re obsessed with. Although, they can’t really be considered true coffee. How can you like those? A real coffee aficionado would drink espresso, or an Americano, or—”

“Don’t try and change the subject. And I’m not having the coffee argument with you again, by the way.”

“It’s not an argument. I have an opinion on what you drink, and I have a right to express that I think it’s disgusting—”

Julie groaned. “Oh, my God, stop talking!”

“So I should stand here silently while you ridicule my clothing choices?” Matt held her look for a few moments before tightening his hands around hers, pushing his sweatshirt back down. “Not terribly fair.”

They stood unmoving. “I suppose not,” Julie finally admitted. “But your shirt is still hideously lame.” She looked at his hands, holding hers against his chest. “You can let go now.”

“Oh. Of course.” Matt let go and stepped back. “Sorry.”

The house phone rang, cutting sharply through the silence.

Matt went into the kitchen to get the phone, while Julie took her seat back on the couch. She yanked the hair tie from around her wrist and pushed her hair back into a ponytail, noting the moisture at the nape of her neck. Final exams were right around the corner, for God’s sake, and here she was messing around on what should be a productive day. She should really use this snow day to get work done.

She heard Matt clear his throat in the other room. “Yes. I’ll be right there.” He returned to the living room. “I have to go to a meeting at Celeste’s school, so the snow-building activities will have to wait.”

Julie frowned. “Everything all right?”

“It’s just a scheduled meeting.”

“Oh, OK.” Julie half-heartedly picked up her book and then dropped it to her lap. “Wait a minute. Why are you going to the meeting? Where’s your mom?”

“She forgot about it, and when they called her, she asked them to call me. So I’m going to go. It’s not a big deal.”

Julie stood up. “I’ll come with you.”

“No. Stay here. Get some work done.”

“Uh-uh. I’m coming. I spend a lot of time with Celeste, so I should be there.” She crossed the room to the front hallway and grabbed her coat off the hook. “Come on. We have to shovel the car out before we’re going anywhere.”

“Julie, really, you shouldn’t come. It’ll be a boring meeting. It’s not a big deal.”

“I’m coming.” Julie zipped her coat and put on fleece mittens.

Matt didn’t budge from his spot. “I’d rather you not.”

“I’d rather I did.”

“It’s just that—”

“Stop talking and start shoveling. I’m coming.”

Matt cracked a smile. “Bossy, bossy.”

**********

Julie crossed her legs and did her best not to sneer at Mr. Alberta, the guidance counselor. Bastard, she thought. This guy totally didn’t get Celeste.

Mr. Alberta leaned back in his leather swivel chair and patted the bald spot on top of his head. The man had patted his head eight times so far (Julie was counting) in an irksome nervous tic. Julie didn’t like his green plaid shirt or his wrinkled khaki pants, both of which seemed an over-zealous effort to appear casual and approachable. She didn’t buy it, and it didn’t help that his eyes kept darting around the room as though he was afraid to look at either her or Matt. He should be afraid, Julie thought, considering that he was flinging insults about Celeste left and right. Tremendous difficulty with peers, both male and female. Virtually no attempts to engage in social interactions and inappropriate responses to the rare initiative from another student. Why had he not acknowledged one positive trait? How about the fact that Celeste could do her schoolwork in her sleep? That she was smart as a whip, and interesting, and unique? Did he not notice that she was scared and defenseless and… and so what if she wasn’t like every other kid at school? Julie didn’t like this man.