Bridget felt like a pinball, bouncing off people, working her way to the door as the subway pulled into Davis Square. The coil of humanity spilled out of the car, onto the platform and up the escalator and she was just another pretty college girl on her way to or from classes. She was grateful for the anonymity. "It" had happened three days ago; the disturbing, sleep dispelling sensation that had enveloped her then disappeared like a foul odor. She still had no idea what it was, and neither did Victoria, which was almost as disturbing as the feeling itself. Bridget had done as Victoria asked and called all the other girls. They'd all said they were fine, they'd all sounded fine. Victoria had marveled, more than once over the course of her training, that Bridget was a true empathy. Her ability to feel the thoughts and emotions of others was one of her greatest powers. But it wasn't a power that worked over the phone. So while she believed everyone when they said they were okay, she wasn't entirely assured by it. Being another face in the crowd, as she was now, made her feel like less of a target for whatever "it" was. She didn't bother to question why she assumed she was a target at all.
The cold air felt like a punch in the face as she stepped onto the sidewalk and she berated herself for not going to school someplace warm. She ticked the candidates off in her mind ... she was sure she could have gotten into Duke. North Carolina HAD to be warmer right now! She sprinted across the street and into her favorite coffee shop, ordered 24 ounces of French Roast (no fu-fu coffee for her) and was happy to see her favorite table was available, so life wasn't entirely awful. Settled in, finally starting to warm up, she started the reading for her "Politics of Nuclear Weapons" class. She'd only taken it to fill her Humanities requirement, so it had been a surprise to discover she was enjoying the class. The Professor was really good. She'd definitely check to see if he was teaching anything interesting the next term. It was after she'd fallen into a productive feeling rhythm when she heard just about the last voice she'd expected to hear calling her name.
"Hey Bridget."
Bridget looked up and her jaw dropped, "Leslie? What are you doing here?"
Leslie smiled pleasantly, "Had an interview in town for a summer internship and thought I'd look you up before I head back north. Mind if I sit?"
"Go ahead."
Leslie pulled up a chair, "It was sweet of you to call the other day to check up."
Bridget hoped the surprise she felt didn't show. Sweetness was something Leslie usually didn't respond to, "Well, you know, Victoria wanted me to check in with you all."
"Still, it was very nice," Leslie smiled again. "I was thinking, I have a couple hours to kill and ..."
"And?"
That smile again, "You know."
Bridget did. This was a bootie call. Normally, Bridget didn't have a problem with that. Lord knew she'd initiated more than a few those herself. But there was something else Leslie wanted, something Bridget couldn't discern. She was having trouble reading Leslie, which was unusual. All she knew was she didn't like how things felt.
"I wish you'd called ahead, I'd have made some time," Bridget replied. "But I am really swamped. I'm sorry."
Leslie shrugged, "I know how that is. Some other time, then?"
"Okay."
"I'll hold you to that," Leslie stood.
"I hope you get that internship," Bridget said.
"I'm not worried," Leslie said. "See you soon."
Bridget watched Leslie leave. Part of her felt like she should have kept Leslie around and tried to figure out what she really wanted. Mostly though, she was glad Leslie was gone. The whole thing just felt weird.
* * *
Part of Leslie wondered if she could have pushed a little harder, been more insistent, before deciding this was the right course. Time was on her side; there was no need to overdo things. And there were alternatives. Just because Bridget hadn't bitten didn't mean Leslie had to go back to Prof. Sawyer empty handed. Leslie pulled her cell phone from her jacket.