Scenes From the City: A Knitting in the City Wintertime Surprise by Penny Reid

attractive.
    I was definitely twisted and wrong.
    “Just…just,” Fern held up her hand in front of his face, “just shut it, and let Fiona ask her question.” Then she turned to me, “Please, continue.”
    “Okay…” I glanced between the two of them. Greg appeared to be completely at ease and all things attentive and serious. However, I sensed mischief lay just below the surface.
    “So, the question is about Jefferson.”
    “Jefferson?”
    “Jefferson?”
    Fern and Greg asked at the same time, though he sounded a tad alarmed.
    Fern gave Greg a quelling look and leaned forward an inch. “Who is Jefferson?”
    “Jefferson is a guy in my P-Chem class.”
    “P-Chem? Aren’t you a freshman?” Greg asked.
    I nodded once, allowing myself to admire the shape of his lips and jaw as I answered, “Yes, but I took the AP exams for most of my prerequisites.”
    “So your major is…?”
    “Stop interrupting, Greg.” Fern rolled her eyes.
    “It’s okay. My major is electrical engineering.”
    His gaze narrowed as his eyes flickered over me again, as though seeing me for the first time. “What other classes are you taking?”
    “Well, um…differential equations, P-chem, vector calculus, dynamics, and art history.”
      He stared at me, his expression plainly betraying his surprise. I met his startled glare directly, waiting for him to make a comment. Instead he continued to study me in silence.
    Fern drew my attention back to her by snapping her fingers. “Back to Jefferson from P-chem.”
    “Oh, yes. Well, Jefferson has asked me out for coffee. My question is, is it wrong to go out for coffee with Jefferson if I’m going on a date with Mark?”
    “I knew a Jefferson,” Greg mumbled, studying his fingernails. “He used to bugger animals, probably still does. I wonder if it’s the same Jefferson…”
    Fern growled, her eyes slicing to him, then back to me. She gave me a little smile. “No, it’s not wrong at all. You and Mark aren’t established enough to be exclusive. Until you become exclusive with a person, you can date as many other guys as you like.”
    “Just don’t have sex with any of them,” Greg blurted this, drawing both mine and Fern’s attention.
    His mouth was curved downward at the edges, and his eyes no longer appeared teasing. He cleared his throat, glanced at his hands, then lifted his gaze to Fern’s.
    “Just until…until she’s exclusive with someone,” he explained.
    Fern gave him an irritated flick of her wrist—I’d noticed she used her hands often in conversation—and turned back to me, “Don’t listen to him. Sex up as many boys as you like.”
    I feigned a light chuckle. A girl in my art history study group did this often when she became uncomfortable, hoping to lighten a suddenly strained mood. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ll be sexing anyone up for a while.”
    Fern’s smile was wistful, and her hazel eyes took on an almost motherly glint. “Oh, that’s right. You’ve never been kissed, have you?”
    My heart stuttered, skipped a beat; it was tripping on mortification and overwhelming embarrassment. Everything went silent, and time stood still. I had no idea what to do, how to react, how to behave. I’d never experienced or witnessed this type of situation before.
    I kept thinking, Now he knows…now he knows I’ve never been kissed…now he thinks I’m a freak.
    All I knew was that I wanted to fall into a black hole and disappear. An unpleasant hot and clammy sensation spread over my skin; I was sweating for no reason. I felt Greg’s eyes on me, and they were like two laser beams burning into my skull. My scalp itched.
    “That’s right,” I said, swallowing thickly, nodding jerkily, forcing a smile. “Not yet.” In a fit of desperation, I decided to add a bit of self-deprecating cheerfulness as I continued, “But I have high hopes for Valentine’s Day.”
    Instinct told me to run, to escape, so I did.
    I stood suddenly, pushing the chair to the