Emily flashed the bus driver a weak, obligatory smile as she bent her knee, to rest her bookbag on her thigh. She unzipped the bag quickly and fished around, pulling out the lanyard that held her school ID and her key card for the bus, which she quickly tapped against the reader with a relieved grunt. She put the lanyard around her neck, zipped her bookbag closed again, and wheeled around towards the inside of the bus with a sigh. It was a Monday, which, she knew, meant that the bus would be crowded. It was always crowded on Mondays. Emily imagined that, if she were an adult and had a real job, she would take Mondays off, to recover from her weekend, but four years of taking the city transit bus to school had taught her that that wasn't how things worked. Everyone, it seemed, went to work on Monday, with the crowds dwindling down as the week went on. Emily usually tried to get an earlier bus on Mondays to avoid the crowds – the bodies pressed together in the claustrophobic aisles and the old men who pressed a little too close as they worked their way past. But she had overslept, and so she had to deal with the overcrowded bus, in addition to the worry that she wouldn't make it to school on time.

As Emily pulled out her phone (both to check the time and to give her an excuse to avoid human interaction), she saw a girl pick her bookbag up from the window seat and slide over, freeing up the aisle seat, for her to sit down. Emily smiled obligingly as she made her way over and sat in the vacated seat, putting her bookbag in her lap. "Thanks," she said shyly, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. She realized, though, that she was also doing the girl a favor by sitting next to her. Emily was familiar with the trick: You set your bookbag in the window seat and sit in the aisle seat. It was the universal signal for "I want to be alone." But, on a crowded bus, someone would always come by and point to the bookbag, obliging you to move it so that they could sit down. It was better to give the seat to Emily than to one of the creepy guys who seemed to be present on every bus.

"Mondays are the worst," Emily offered, looking at the straps on her bookbag as she toyed with them, rather than making eye contact with her seatmate.

"Yeah," the girl agreed.

"I usually try to get an earlier bus." There was a hint of guilt in Emily's voice, as if she didn't want to admit that she had overslept.

"Oh, yeah?"

The girl obviously wasn't picking up on Emily's point.

"You don't…" Emily snorted out a chuckle and started again. "I take it you're not a regular on Septa."

"Oh… no… I…" The girl let out a chuckle of her own. "My girlfriend usually gives me a ride, but…" She shrugged.

And there it was. This was what sucked about liking girls: You usually only found out for sure that the girl you think is cute also likes girls when she mentions her girlfriend.

Emily smiled. The girl didn't offer an explanation about why her girlfriend didn't give her a ride, and Emily didn't want to pry.

"So, you go to Masterman?" the girl said, pointing at the school's name on Emily's lanyard. Emily nodded, chuckling shyly again. She kicked herself internally for being so flustered and shy, especially since she'd found out that the girl was taken. "Ooh, look at you!" the girl said in reply to Emily's nod, waving her hands in awe.

The Julia R. Masterman School was the most competitive public school in the city, and it was always ranked the highest public school in Pennsylvania. Emily was used to getting that kind of fake-awed reaction when people found out that she was a student there. She really hated that people judged her simply on the basis of where she went to school. "What about you?" she asked, quickly, to get the subject off of herself.

"Oh… I…" Again with the hesitation. Emily would have found it endearing, if the girl didn't have a girlfriend. "I, um… I'm going to 16th and the Parkway."

"Oh." Emily straightened up a little in her seat. She knew that address: Friends Select School. Tuition there was astronomical. This girl had to be rich. In fact, Emily was a little surprised that she was taking the bus, rather than a limo. But she didn't say anything. The girl was obviously trying to downplay the fact that she went to an exclusive school, since she only mentioned its address and not its name. "So, you're a… senior?" Emily winked her eye thoughtfully. They looked to be about the same age.

"Oh, no," Paige chuckled, her tone cheerfully dismissive of Emily's guess. "I'm a freshman."

Emily tried to hide her surprise. The girl hardly looked like the little freshmen girls who ran around Masterman. But her girlfriend could drive a car, which would make the girlfriend at least a junior. Emily had a moment of joy when she realized that the girl was dating an older woman – as if that gave Emily a shot with her. She wiped that thought out of her mind immediately, though, remembering the girlfriend.

Emily saw the girl's forehead wrinkle up in confusion, and she realized that she had been staring. "Uh huh…" There was that nervous chuckle again. "Well, I'm a senior," Emily said, just to say something. She certainly felt like a freshman in that moment, unsure of herself and nervous. She looked away from the girl, and the girl looked out of the window. Things could hardly have gotten more awkward. "I'm Emily," Emily finally said, reaching her hand out – a gesture that only made things that much more awkward.

"Pleased to meet you, Emily." She seemed stiff and formal as she said it, shaking Emily's hand, and Emily regretted the fact that she'd had been the cause of things getting so formal, when she extended her hand. "I'm Paige," the girl added.

"Paige," Emily repeated softly to herself, to ensure that she wouldn't forget. "So, did you go there for middle school, too?"

Paige turned her head slowly towards Emily with her eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, as if Emily had suddenly begun speaking a foreign language.

"Oh! I mean…" Emily shook her head and waved her hand, trying to delete the question. Paige didn't want to talk about going to an expensive school. Emily shouldn't have asked her that question. "Never mind," she said softly. Paige looked away, still seeming a bit confused. Emily smiled weakly at her and then unzipped her bookbag, retrieving the paperback novel that her English class was reading. She had already done the reading and was prepared for class, but she needed to do something to distance herself from the ever-increasing awkwardness of the bus ride. Before long, she saw Paige reach for the cord to let the bus driver know that she wanted the next stop. Emily looked at her with a soft smile. She didn't know whether to say "Thank you" to Paige, for letting her sit there, or "See you around," when she most probably wouldn't. So, she just smiled like an idiot until Paige, grabbing her messenger bag, stood up.

"Excuse me," she said politely.

"Oh, yeah." Emily suddenly remembered that she would need to move, if Paige were going to get off the bus. She hugged her backpack to her chest and angled her legs sideways, to form an aisle.

"Okay, so… Take it easy," Paige offered with a casual shrug as she shimmied through the opening Emily had made for her.

Emily just smiled, watching Paige go by. Take it easy. That's what she should've said. She watched as Paige exited the bus, confused when she took a right turn rather than heading up the steps to Friends Select. Maybe, she speculated, Paige was stopping for coffee first, although Emily didn't know of anywhere to get coffee near that bus stop. As the bus pulled away, Emily tilted her head to see where Paige was really going. She could have been lying about Friends Select, in some misguided attempt at impressing Emily. If that were true, Paige was going to have to wait for the next bus to whatever school she was actually going to.

Emily watched as Paige opened a glass door large, metal letters that spelled out, "Strayer University." Emily had ridden the bus past that corner for all four years of high school, and yet she'd never noticed that sign before. Her head tilted back in sudden realization. Paige was a college freshman, not a high school freshman. No wonder she looked so much older than the freshmen Emily knew. And no wonder she was confused when Emily asked that question about middle school.

Paige had stopped telling people that she went to Strayer. No one had ever heard of the school, and having to explain what it was all the time was just too much of a chore. Also, she couldn't help feeling a little embarrassed that she went to a school like Strayer, especially after learning that Emily went to Masterman. Strayer wasn't Paige's first choice, and she hoped to be able to transfer to another school later. But she didn't have many alternatives. She had kissed any hope of parental support good-bye the night her parents got home early from church and caught her kissing a girl on the living room couch.

Despite herself, Emily found that she kept looking for Paige over the next few days, either when she got on the bus or when the bus passed the stop at 16th and the Parkway. She didn't really expect to see Paige on the bus, but there was always a chance that she could catch her getting out of her girlfriend's car. Yes; that thought – her girlfriend's car – exposed Emily's hopes of seeing Page again as mere silliness. Still, something in her was reluctant to believe that their meeting was meant to be just a once-in-a-lifetime encounter. That wasn't normal thinking for her; she never got that feeling about a girl after meeting her only once.

Emily scanned the crowd as her team emerged from the visitors' locker room at Central High School, the way she always did, searching for some friendly faces, in an attempt to gauge what kind of support the team could expect at the meet. She saw the usual smattering of her classmates who regularly came to cheer her on, sprinkled among a sea of crimson shirts with a big "C" for "Central" on them. Her face crinkled in disbelief when she saw someone who looked like Paige, the girl from the bus, off in the far bleachers. Her eyes must have been playing tricks on her, she concluded. It wouldn't have been the first time she thought that she saw Paige since that day. But Paige would have had to have been a professional-level stalker to show up at her swim meet. How would she even have known that Emily was a swimmer?

When Paige's eyes, which had been scanning the area where the teams were stretching out, caught up with Emily, Emily's head jerked back. Paige pumped her fist to cheer Emily on, and Emily smirked. Where was this girlfriend Paige had talked about? Emily realized that was being unfair. Maybe. Maybe they broke up. Maybe that's why she no longer got rides to school with her girlfriend. Emily's body shivered, jolting her back to reality. She didn't have time to figure out what the deal with Paige was. She needed to get into the zone.

There was a little something extra in Emily's swimming that afternoon. It wasn't that she was showing off for Paige, necessarily, but she definitely didn't want to embarrass herself. She kept sneaking glances up into the stands as she waited to jump into the water or right after she climbed out of it, and, every time, Paige was looking at her, occasionally putting her hands to the side of her mouth, using them like a megaphone to cheer Emily on. Whenever Emily caught her, Paige never looked away.

When the meet was over, Emily took one last glance up into the stands, but Paige wasn't there anymore. It didn't take long for Emily to realize why. She saw Paige standing a few feet away, her arms folded in front of her, shuffling back and forth on her feet, staring at the wet tiles beneath them. After the final speech from Coach Fulton and the victory shout with her teammates, Emily cleared her throat and headed over. "Paige," she said, trying to keep things low-key.

"Hi, Emily." Paige's face was lit up like the scoreboard.

"I wasn't expecting to see you here. Don't tell me: Your girlfriend's a swimmer?"

Paige looked confused. "My girlfriend? I mean, a couple of my girlfriends swim, but…"

Oh. Okay. Emily realized that Paige was one of those women who referred to female friends as girlfriends. The surprise in her voice when she said "girlfriend" was a pretty good indicator that she didn't have one. Then again, it could also have meant that she didn't date girls.

"I'm here to see you, of course!" Paige chimed confidently. Emily's jaw dropped. She couldn't believe that Paige actually admitted that she had stalked her after that brief encounter on the bus. Before she could say anything, Paige threw her hands up and said, "I'm just kidding." Her tone was dry, like a hostage-negotiator, trying to defuse a situation. "I'm actually here to see my old coach." Paige gestured across the way at the opposing team's coach.

"Oh." Emily averted her eyes, embarrassed. "Right. Because how would you even know I was a swimmer?" she said, huffing bitterly at her own foolishness.

"Your, um…" Paige pointed to the blue, silicone wristband on Emily's wrist, with the words "MASTERMAN SWIMMING" in large, white letters. Emily fiddled with it shyly, even more embarrassed.

"So, how do you know Coach Restic?" Emily asked, trying to recover her cool.

"I used to swim for him in high school."

"Uh huh," Emily said skeptically.

"What?"

"Well, I've been on the team for four years, and I've never seen you at any of the meets."

"I swam for him back in California," Paige explained, a little condescendingly. "Before we both ended up in Philly."

"Oh. Yeah." Emily chuckled, putting her head down, thinking how silly she must have seemed to Paige. It was true,. and, once Paige mentioned it, Emily remembered: Coach Restic had only started coaching at Central the season before. Paige's story was plausible. Still, there was no mistaking the way that Paige had been eyeing her from the stands. Whomever she had really come to see, she hadn't been shy about watching Emily.

"Anyway," Paige said, "I just wanted to congratulate you on your races. You really are an amazing swimmer, Emily."

"Thanks," Emily said, hardly realizing that she had lightly squeezed Paige's shoulder as she said it, until she saw Paige start to get flustered. When she saw that, she couldn't resist running her hand down the back of Paige's arm, to her elbow, and back. Paige nervously cleared her throat. Their eyes locked on each other for several seconds, before Emily felt herself being yanked away by one of her teammates.

"Come on," Shana yelled impatiently. Shana was always in a hurry to get showered and get on the bus home. "You can flirt later!"

Emily quickly whipped her head around, hoping that Paige hadn't heard. Her head made it around just in time to catch Paige checking out her legs. Emily raised an eyebrow as Paige quickly tried to look away. She knew she was busted. Emily smirked triumphantly and put her arms around Shana's shoulder, casually walking away from the scene of the crime, with maybe just a bit of saunter in her step. Paige dipped her head and went off to catch up with Coach Restic.

There was something slightly off about Paige. Her story seemed to be changing all the time. She had a girlfriend, only not a girlfriend girlfriend. She was a freshman, only not a high school freshman but a college freshman. She came to see Emily, only she actually came to see her coach.

Still, all these contradictions and inconsistencies only made Paige more intriguing, in Emily's eyes.

And Emily had gotten more than a little boost of confidence from the hungry way that Paige had been looking at her legs.

Emily was in the middle of a group of her teammates as they headed out of the school building towards the yellow bus that would take them back to Masterman. She had her head down, swaddled in her hoodie, doing her best to keep the cold air out of her wet hair. It was only when Shana poked her in the ribs that she looked up and saw Paige was loitering near the bus, hands in the pockets of her jeans, kicking nervously at the ground.

Emily rolled her eyes at Shana and got out of line, moseying over to where Paige was standing. "Hi," Paige almost whispered, her smile exposing a shyness that Emily hadn't seen from her before.

"Hi," Emily echoed.

"I… uh… I didn't get your phone number," she said, staring Emily directly in the throat.

"No?" Emily smirked. "And were you supposed to?"

"Well, I just thought…" Paige nervously ran her fingers through her hair. "I mean – I hoped that…"

Emily snorted, shaking her head, and reached out her hand. Paige, looked at it for a second, half-terrified and paralyzed by the thought that Emily wanted to hold her hand.

"Your phone?" Emily prompted, as if talking to a child who had forgotten her manners.

"Oh… I uh…" Paige knew that she wouldn't be able remember the unlock code for her phone, with her nerves on overtime and her heart racing. She could barely remember her name. "I have a good memory," she declared. "You can just tell it to me."

Emily rolled her eyes. "Do you have a pen?" she said, condescendingly.

Paige nodded, smiling like a dork. She reached into one pocket and pulled out a pen, then reached into another, hoping to find a piece of paper. Before she found one, Emily took the pen from her hand, grabbing her hand as well, and wrote the number in her palm. She put a little smiley face – two vertical lines and a curve – underneath the number and closed Paige's fingers over it, smiling with an air of superiority. Her face was so close that Paige was half afraid that Emily was going to give her a kiss on the cheek. She knew that her knees couldn't handle that. She pumped her arm a little as she dropped it to her side, backing away. "Well, I should… uh… You need to go, I guess." Paige looked up at the bus, which the rest of the team had already boarded. Most of them were leaning into the windows, hands on the glass, watching the scene unfold. They didn't even bother to pretend they weren't staring when Paige and Emily looked up at them.

Emily had her head down as she boarded the bus, knowing that there was no way she could hide from the high-fives and the hoots of approval that her teammates were throwing her way. She quickly collapsed into the seat next to Shana and popped her earbuds in, pulling her hoodie tight around her head, hoping beyond hope that Shana would just let it go. Of course, she knew that that would never happen. It was only a matter of time. As engine revved up and the back-up tone started beeping, Emily hunkered down, dreading the inevitable.

"So?"

Emily sank into her seat, the air escaping her lungs like wind leaving her sails as she turned to look at Shana, her eyes pleading for mercy.

"Well, you've got to give me something, girl! Who was that babe?"

"Her name's Paige," Emily sighed weakly.

"And?"

Emily's eyebrows drew together, in annoyed frustration. "And what?"

"Does she go to Central?"

"No, she…"

"She what?"

"She… doesn't go to Central!" Emily wasn't in the mood to get into a conversation about the fact that Paige was in college.

"So, what was she doing at the meet?"

"She… I don't know! I don't know her whole life story!"

"Emily," Shana whined.

"Shana," Emily mockingly whined back.

"Come on, you've got to give me something! I would tell you!"

Emily tilted her head skeptically and pursed her lips.

"She…" Shana groaned in frustration. "Okay, don't pretend she doesn't mean anything to you. I mean, you gave this girl your number."

"How do you know I didn't give her a fake number?"

"Emily," Shana said, with a condescending pat to Emily's shoulder, "you give a fake number on a piece of paper. Or in a phone." She grabbed Emily's hand, stroking her palm with her thumb. "You don't have hand-on-hand sex with someone and then just write a fake number in her palm!"

Emily jerked her hand away, with a "Hmmph!" She was trying to sound offended, so that Shana would back off.

Shana opened her mouth, but let her back fall against the seat instead. "Okay," she said mischievously. "Maybe I'll just call Paige myself!"

Emily's mouth dropped in panic for just a split second as she turned towards Shana in time to see the barest beginnings of a smile forming on her lip. She realized that Shana was playing with her, and she'd fallen for it. And she realized by the smile that Shana was giving her that Shana knew that her trap had worked. But that didn't stop her from trying to play it cool. "Good!" she said, nonchalantly. She shrugged her shoulders "Call her."

"Okay," Shana taunted. "As long as you're okay with it."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Fine."

"Fine!"

Emily took a long, hot shower as soon as she made it back home. She liked those long, hot showers after swimming, to help get rid of the smell of chlorine. The showers in the visitors' locker room at Central weren't anything to get excited about, plus Emily was in a rush after the meet, since the conversation with Paige had made her late to the locker rooms.

Paige was the biggest reason behind the long shower. Emily needed to clear her head.

Emily stepped out of the shower, and into her favorite robe. It was one that her father had brought back from one of his tours of Europe, years ago. Emily had pretty much outgrown it, but it was soft and comfortably broken-in, and it always made Emily feel grounded, reminding her of the days when she and her mother used to stay up all night, when her father on his way back to the house after one of his overseas postings, and how everything felt right when they were all together. The days when there was no problem too big for her dad to solve.

She sat on her bed, tucking one leg under and letting the other dangle, and just idled for a while, slowly replaying the day's events in her head. On any other day, the swim meet would have been the highlight of her thoughts – especially since she and her teammates had done so well – but, on this day, the meet was a distant second. She reached behind her for the teddy bear she'd had for as long as she could remember, holding it by its shoulders as she spoke to it. "Who's being a big, fat idiot?" she asked, hugging him close as she answered her own question with a sigh. "I am."

Emily had a ton of homework, but she wasn't in the mood – and not just because it was Friday. She wanted to know what was going to happen with Paige. She wished she could just fast-forward three days. She was sure that Paige would never call her back before three days had passed. Or, maybe she would. On second thought, Emily didn't know. But she did know that she shouldn't start to worry if she didn't from Paige until it had been three days. But what if three days go by and she doesn't call? "Urrgggh!" Emily hated the three-day rule.

Maybe she'll text. "Oh shit!" Emily said out loud, as soon as that thought crossed her mind. She flung her bear back onto the pillow and sprang to her feet, glancing back quickly to ensure that Teddy was okay before she started pacing nervously, running a hand through her damp hair.

She didn't know Paige's number. And that was a problem, because her dad, with his typical overprotectiveness for his only daughter, had blocked all numbers that weren't in her contacts from calling her cell phone. And, without knowing Paige's number, she couldn't add Paige to her contacts. "Stupid!" she said out loud, when she thought of how she had tried to be flirty and written her number on Paige's palm, instead of putting it in her phone, letting Paige text her so she'd have her number. The text would've been blocked, of course, but Emily would've remembered to add Paige to her contacts before she got on the bus.

But, as it stood, even if Paige had texted her, the texts wouldn't have gotten through, and Paige would never know that they had been blocked. After a while, she would just give up, thinking that Emily was blanking her, and move on.

I can fix this.

Emily decided not to panic. She started to text her father, but she deleted it. She knew that he would call her and ask why she needed to have the number unblocked. Her mind played out that conversation:

I'm expecting a text from someone, but I don't have her number.

And who is this someone?

Just someone from school. She's supposed to text me the homework.

Does this someone have a name?

Paige.

Has your mother met her?

Dad, I just need her to text me the homework.

And none of the kids in your contact list can text you the homework?

That plan was a no-go. Emily hated lying to her dad. More than that, she hated getting caught. She wasn't very fooling him.

Her mind jumped to Plan B: Shana makes good on her promise to call Paige, and Emily gets the number from her. But, of course, Shana was only bluffing. She had no way of tracking down Paige, especially since all she knew was that her first name was Paige and she didn't go to Central. It wasn't that easy to find a Paige in Philadelphia, Emily knew from experience. And Emily at least had the advantage of knowing where Paige went to school.

Emily closed her eyes and tightened her lips, to stiffen her resolve. She sat on her bed again, this time reaching for her laptop, instead of her teddy bear. She logged into the Verizon Wireless account, using her dad's credentials. Fortunately, he used the same password for most of his accounts. She could usually get in with one or two – at most, three – guesses. She didn't like going behind his back, but, after all, if he hadn't wanted her to be able to log into his accounts in case of an emergency, he would've chosen better passwords.

She got into to her dad's account, lifted the block on unknown numbers, and logged out again, relieved. Paige's texts could get through. But that didn't get rid of all of her anxiety; she still worried that Paige might have texted her before her phone was unblocked. At that moment, she was actually glad that she didn't have Paige's number. That way, she couldn't do something stupid like send her a pathetic, "Sorry if you tried to text me" text.

She would just have to wait.

Emily put her phone in her underwear drawer, under some socks, hoping that it would muffle the sound. She didn't want to be distracted by anxiety over whether or not the phone would ring, so she put it where she couldn't hear it even if it did ring, the way she often did when she needed to study without distractions. And she decided that she actually would study, as a way to occupy her mind and keep it from fretting over why the phone didn't ring.

No sooner had she opened her history textbook than she heard a muffled tone coming from the direction of her underwear drawer. Without thinking, she leapt from her bed at the sound. She started pacing, in an attempt to calm herself down. It wasn't a phone call; it was a text, and it was probably just Hanna. It would have been too much of a coincidence for Paige to text her right after she removed the block on her phone. Unless it was meant to be. Emily shook her head at the foolishness of that thought. More likely, Paige had texted her while the number was blocked and, not having heard anything from Emily, tried again. She had probably been texting obsessively all evening, and, by the time her texts started getting through, she was pretty angry at Emily for giving her her phone number and then shutting her out.

Emily was anxiously rubbing her forehead as her pacing became faster and more purposeful. She lowered her palms from chest level to her sides as she exhaled, slowly and deeply, trying to calm herself down. She stepped over to the dresser and took out her phone.

When Emily unlocked the phone, she saw that she had a new text from an unknown number. She didn't recognize the area code, which made sense, since Paige had said she'd moved to Philadelphia from California. There was only one text, so Emily's fears of an angry text-storm were allayed.

Emily's heart was fluttering as she unlocked her phone. She needed to calm herself down. She didn't know why she was getting so excited over a simple text. It's not as if Paige were actually into her, or anything. She was probably just a player; she'd probably gotten numbers from half the women on Central's team. Whatever she had texted, Emily resolved not to reply until the morning. She didn't want to seem too eager. And it was late, after all, and, for all Paige knew, she was asleep, so it wouldn't seem like some kind of a power move if Emily played it cool.

Paige had texted her, "FANTASTIC JOB! You're a natural in the water! I'm impressed." What followed was a stream of emojis – water, a swimmer, a trophy, thumbs up, a flexed bicep, 100, "I see you" eyes – it went on for four lines on Emily's screen. It was as if Paige had just discovered emojis on her phone or had gone a little crazy with them. Or that she had been butt-dialing from the emoji screen. Emily took a good minute or two to decipher each emoji and figure out why it was relevant, laughing with relief (and a touch of admiration) as she did. Paige concluded the text with, "Anyway… I just wanted to check that I deciphered your number correctly. Some of the letters had gotten a little smudged by the time I got home. So let me know whether or not you got this, and, if this isn't Emily… well, fantastic job at life, I guess. I'm still impressed with you. Sweet dreams, Emily – or total stranger." Paige had ended the text with an equals sign and a parenthesis. It was surely just a coincidence, but Emily couldn't help thinking that Paige chose it, rather than an emoji, because it looked like the smiley that Emily had drawn in her hand. She sighed contentedly, holding her phone against her heart for a second or two before, with a huge grin, she read the message again. She laid her hand on her sternum and let her chin fall on top of it. Even though she had told herself that she wouldn't text Paige back that night, she had to. If nothing else, she needed to let Paige know that she had the correct number.

Emily's face lit up as she texted Paige back. She realized that she was typing like her mother, holding the phone with one hand and touching each letter with her index finger, rather than quickly swiping out the words the way she always did. She shrugged it off. It had been a good day, and that was that.

"Yes, you got the number right, smudges and all. Congratulations." Emily added the trophy and thumbs-up emojis that Paige had also used. "Unless you didn't, and I'm totally catfishing you. Paige." She threw Paige's name in there, just to be sure that Paige knew that she was only joking – as if the LOL emoji hadn't been enough to make that clear. "I could throw some more emojis in here, but I have a strict policy of no more than 10 per text. Good night." Emily closed with "Good night" so she wouldn't feel bad if Paige didn't text her back. She was going to follow it with the "=)" smiley, but she didn't want that to become their thing. Instead, she just put an "x." That was polite and friendly, she thought, and it showed appreciation.

Emily put her history book away and climbed into her bed, dreamily reading through Paige's text and the emojis again. She was interrupted by another text from Paige, and her heart started beating faster again.

"Good thing – you don't want to get into an emoji war with me, Emily. You'd lose, guaranteed!" Paige ended with a smiley and an x.

So this is how it's going to be, Emily thought to herself. Paige is going to fallow my lead: Smiley for smiley, x for x. Emily giggled to herself and typed out another reply to Paige. In the end, though, she decided against it. It was enough for the first night. She had already texted good night. Why not leave Paige wanting more?

Emily added Paige to her contacts before she set her phone aside on her bedside table. She snapped her fingers when she remembered that she'd logged into her dad's Verizon account and taken off the block on unknown numbers to her phone. She reluctantly got out of her warm bed and got out her laptop, to restore the block before her dad noticed that it had been taken off.

Emily woke up on Saturday morning with a smile on her face, optimistic as she remembered the night before. She sat up on the edge of the bed and rubbed her face with her palms to wake herself up. She was still smiling when she reached for her phone, and still smiling when she saw that she had no new texts. Oh well, she shrugged pleasantly. It was still early. Paige might not have gotten up yet.

Emily went about her morning routine trying her best to keep her emotions at bay. The longer the morning went on, the more her anxiety grew. She drove out to Chestnut Hill Academy for her usual Saturday morning training, but she was off her game. Usually, the solitude was calming, but on that Saturday, going back and forth in the pool, she had too much time to think. Too much time to obsess over why she hadn't heard from Paige all morning.

Maybe it took time for Verizon to sync up her contacts list. She had visions of Paige trying to reach her again, not knowing that her texts weren't getting through. Emily realized that she should have waited before she put the block back on – or at least told Paige about the block. She realized that her panic was affecting her thought process. When would she have told Paige about the block? And, besides, Paige was in college. Emily didn't want to seem like a child, still dependent on her parents for everything.

This is stupid, Emily thought. Paige is in college. She's probably sleeping in. She was probably playing beer pong all night, and she was totally wasted, so she was sleeping it off. Okay, that didn't really fit with a commuter college like Strayer. But maybe she was out drinking with her roommates. Or maybe…

"She was with her girlfriend." Emily said the words and gazed up at Hanna, to read her reaction. Emily had filled Hanna in on all the details over coffee and crêpes at Saige Café.

"You think she has a girlfriend?" Emily shrugged weakly and took a sip of her coffee, tapping her nails against the tabletop in frustration.

"I didn't. I mean, she acted so stunned when I dropped the g-word at the swim meet, but maybe she was just acting. I mean, why would she ask for my number and then text me and then… nothing?"

"She's playing it cool? She got sick? She got kidnapped?" Hanna's speech grew faster as the list went on. "Her grandma died? Her dog died? Her phone died?"

Emily grabbed her best friend by the wrists. "Hanna!"

"What? You asked me why."

Emily exhaled deeply, checking her phone to see whether she'd somehow missed a call from Paige. "I'm going to call her."

"No!" Hanna lunged for Emily's phone, but Emily jerked it away.

"Hanna…" Deep down, Emily knew that Hanna was right. But she still wanted to call Paige. She needed to know what was going on. "Just to say, 'Hi, how's it going?' – I'll keep it chill."

"You will definitely not keep it chill, Em. I know you!"

"Hanna!"

"What if a girl answers?"

Emily's jaw dropped for a split second, followed by her face. "So you think she really does have a girlfriend?" Emily didn't look up from her crêpe, which was getting colder by the minute, as she asked the question. Hanna leaned back in her chair and took a deep breath.

"What would you think if someone did that to you?" Emily asked.

"A guy or a girl?"

"Hanna!"

"Seriously! I mean, if it were a girl, I'd be like, 'Hey!'," – her tone was light and playful – "but if it were a guy, I'd be all, 'Hey!'" (She scowled and snarled on that last word.)

Emily narrowed her eyelids, snorting through her nose. "A guy, Hanna. A guy!"

"I knew it!" Hanna sat up in her seat and slammed her hand down on the table. "I knew you were the girl and Paige is the guy!"

Emily's shoulders dropped. "Hanna…" she pleaded, not wanting to have that discussion. Again.

"Okay, okay." Hanna waved her hand dismissively. She leaned back against the chair and looked up to the ceiling, deep in thought. "If a guy took my number and texted me and didn't text me the following day…" Hanna slowly tapped her chin a time or two as she mulled the scenario over.

Emily huffed impatiently.

"See, Emily?" Hanna said, pointing an accusing finger at Emily's face. "That's your problem right there. You're too impatient. It's been what? – half a day? And you're driving yourself crazy. Over a girl you just met. Just chill, Em. Let her come to you. If she doesn't, she's not worth your emotional investment.

Emily shrugged sadly and tilted her head. "I suppose."

By Sunday, Emily had worked herself into quite a state. It would've been better if Paige hadn't texted her at all. That kind of behavior she could've rationalized. It was the three-day rule, or Paige inadvertently washed the phone number away. Or maybe she was trying to work up the nerve. Or something. But to make that initial contact and then go silent… That just seemed intentionally cruel.

The bus was full, as usual, on Monday morning. After Emily tapped her bus pass, she swished her hair out of the way and surveyed the seating availability. She caught a quick glance at Paige, sitting in the aisle seat next to some old woman, and her blood started to boil. She looked down quickly, before Paige could see that Emily had seen her.

Emily kept her head down as she headed for the back of the bus. It was too risky standing in the front of the bus. Paige, who was facing forward would be staring in that direction, and, eventually, their eyes would meet. Emily had to get behind her, out of her field of view.

As she passed the seat where Paige was sitting, Paige called her name, but Emily kept on moving, pretending she didn't hear.

"Hey… Emily!" Paige gently grabbed Emily's wrist, and Emily quickly jerked it away, turning on her with fire in her eyes. Paige recoiled beneath the sternness of Emily's glare. Emily realized that she needed to dial it back a little – or a lot. She couldn't let Paige know how upset she was with her. That would imply that she cared. And Paige obviously didn't care; shutting Emily out for two days straight and then acting as if nothing was wrong. And, Emily decided, nothing was wrong. If Paige wasn't interested, she wasn't either. Apparently, she was just another girl to Paige; another girlfriend who swims. Emily rolled her eyes internally. Outside, though, she was all charm.

Emily clutched her heart, acting as if she had reacted the way she did because she was startled. "Oh… P… Paige." She intentionally stuttered over the name, as if she had to give it some to come up with it. "Wow – I didn't see you there – I was in the zone!"

"Yeah, I noticed," Paige said pleasantly, with a stupid, innocent smile plastered on her face.

"Well," Emily said, with a smile that she hoped didn't looked as forced as it was, "it's good to see you again."

"Wait – Emily…" Paige grabbed for Emily's wrist but ended up with her hand instead. She quickly readjusted her grip to avoid prematurely crossing a line. Emily turned her head inquisitively. "Do you want to sit down?" Paige began to stand up.

"No, no." Emily was still somehow managing to be pleasant as she gently extricated her wrist from Paige's grip. "Don't get up. I'm just going to go…" Emily gestured vaguely towards the back of the bus and proceeded back there, wedging herself into a three-person seat, between a mom with a young baby on her lap and a man who smelled strangely like fish. She set her backpack on her lap and reached for her phone, to update Hanna on this latest development.

"Mondays are crazy."

Emily gasped, this time genuinely startled at those words.

"Oh, sorry," said Paige, who, unbeknownst to Emily, had followed her to the back of the bus and was standing in front of Fish Guy.

Emily looked up with a half-smile and a snort of agreement before looking back down at her phone, trying to find something else to do, since Paige was standing too close for her to go through with her plan to text Hanna. Despite the strong odor coming off of Fish Guy, Emily was praying that he and Baby Mama would stay on the bus, at least until it got to Strayer, so that Paige wouldn't be able to take the seat next to her.

Paige just kind of stood there awkwardly, holding onto the pole, for a couple of stops. When someone who had been sitting in the set of seats across the aisle from Emily stood up, Paige sat down in the seat she'd vacated and, like Emily, began occupying herself with her phone.

Emily's phone buzzed with a new text message. From Paige.

"How was your weekend? =)"

Emily looked up at Paige, her face exposing her disgust and disbelief. Paige was staring at her with that same stupid grin, coupled with "play with me" puppy-dog eyes. Emily crumbled. She dipped her head as she broke into small laughter. She was still angry with Paige, of course. And even more confused. She cleared her throat and shook her head, returning her attention to her phone. This time, she stuck to her resolve and didn't return Paige's text.

Emily felt Paige put a hand on her shoulder, to get her attention. When she looked up, she saw that they were almost at Paige's stop already. Fish Guy had gotten off the bus a few steps earlier, but Paige hadn't bothered to move next to Emily. With the bus just about to make her stop, Paige stood, unsure and vulnerable, in the aisleway. "Is it okay if I call you?" Paige asked, seeming genuinely unsure of the answer to that question. Emily nodded, her expression giving nothing away.

"Is tonight okay?" Again, Emily nodded, her face, again, expressionless.

"Okay," Paige said softly, with an equally soft squeeze to Emily's shoulder. "Have a great day." Emily smiled.

"Well, that was a little cold," Emily said to herself as Paige, with a shy wave, exited the bus. Emily quickly looked to her left and her right, to make sure that she hadn't said that sentence out loud. She sighed. Paige had earned the cold shoulder. If she were genuinely interested in Emily, she was going to have to work for her.

"You're WHAT?" Hanna screamed into the phone?

"I'm not going to hold my breath."

"You're not going to hold your breath?"

"Yeah, I mean, after last weekend…"

"Emily, what the hell are you talking about? Is that some kind of swimming thing?"

"Is what some kind of swimming thing?"

"You're not going to hold your breath?"

"It's… Hanna, come on! How have you never heard that expression?" Emily was impatient and incredulous.

"Because I'm not a swimmer!" Hanna yelled back, just as urgently.

"It's not a swimming thing! God!" Emily let out a frustrated grunt. "It means…"

"Yeah?"

"It just means… Seriously, Hanna, how can you not have heard that expression?"

"I don't know! If it's such a common expression, why can't you just tell me what it means?"

"Because everybody knows what it means!" Emily breathed deeply and started again. "Look, it just means that I'm not expecting her to call me anytime soon. I guess… I guess, like, if I were going to hold my breath while I waited I'd probably die or something."

"But I thought swimmers were supposed to have such good breath control? Remember? You told me you'd be a great kisser, because you can hold your breath like, forever?"

"Hanna," Emily said, getting more and more angry as the conversation veered further and further away from the topic, "it has nothing to do with swimming. It… Look, I'm not going to put my life on hold, waiting for Paige to call me tonight, okay?"

"Well, why didn't you just say that in the first place?" Hanna mumbled.

"Huh?"

"Well, good for you," Hanna sighed, sounding a little over it. "This whole thing sounds pretty sketchy. I mean, are we even sure she's a swimmer."

Emily, cross-legged on her bed, relaxed her back against her bedroom wall, shrugging her shoulders slightly. "I don't know," she offered, adding as an aside, "She certainly has a swimmer's bod."

"What?"

Emily shook her head to clear it. Remembering Paige's body wasn't going to help her resolve. "I… don't… She may be. I don't know."

"You mean to tell me didn't check out her story?"

"Hanna, I don't even know her last name!"

"But you said you know her coach, right? I mean, he's got to have some team pictures from when he coached in California."

"I suppose, but…"

"But what?"

"I don't know," Emily said quickly, slurring the words together. "If she actually does call, then I'll check into it. In the meantime, I'm not going to be bothered with her."

Emily was lying. She put Hanna on speaker so she didn't have to keep the phone in front of her lips while she used it to do a bit of research.

Paige's story checked out. She had been on Coach Restic's team back in California. There were certainly enough photographs to vouch for that. She had to have some kind of star, from the looks of it. And Emily was very thorough in her research, checking out each and every photo in depth; checking the bone structure and body composition, and checking to make sure none of her teammates got too close.

When the call with Hanna ended a few minutes later, Emily wasn't angry at Paige anymore. She wasn't sure what she was feeling; disappointed, certainly. Emotionally drained, perhaps. And sad. Undeniably sad. Paige was a nice enough person (other than the fact that she never called, even though she said she would – twice). Also, she was objectively gorgeous. And they had swimming in common. It kind of seemed like one of those things that Fate was orchestrating: The chance meeting on the bus, and Paige showing up at the swim meet, to see her former coach. Emily really thought that there could've been something there.

But Paige hadn't called, and Emily was over trying to figure out why. In the final analysis, she didn't mean enough to Paige for Paige to give her a call. Emily decided to move on. Life was too short. And she'd wasted enough time trying to win over girls who weren't interested in her.

On Tuesday morning, when Emily boarded the bus, she saw plenty of open seats – which didn't come as a surprise, because he bus was rarely crowded on Tuesdays. She also saw Paige, staring at her with a bright smile on her face, seated next to a massive bouquet of roses. Emily smiled back. There was no reason not to. She was mature enough to be friends with Paige, even if Paige wasn't into her enough to call. As she approached Paige's seat, Paige slid over into the window seat, taking the roses into her lap, her gesture inviting Emily to sit next to her. Why not? Emily reasoned. Paige was easy to talk to, and it was better than riding alone.

Once Emily got her backpack off of her back and onto the floor, Paige handed her the bouquet of roses. Emily wasn't sure why Paige needed her to hold them for her. She assumed that it had something to do with the Starbucks cup Paige had in her other hand. As Emily took the flowers, before she had a chance to ask who the lucky girl was, Paige shyly said, "For you."

"For… me?" Emily repeated skeptically.

Paige nodded, and offered the Starbucks cup. Emily quickly readjusted the flowers into her left hand so that she could take the cup in her right.

"I didn't know what kind of coffee you drink," Paige explained. "I hope cappuccino is okay?"

"Oh, sweet caffeine," Emily blurted out, taking a sip and moaning at how good it felt going down. Paige shot her a satisfied smile before she looked away, unsure of what to say. "To what do I owe this?" Emily said, her forehead scrunched in confusion.

Paige cleared her throat, looking straight ahead at the back of the seat in front of her. She stretched out her neck and drew it back in again. "Well," she said slowly, "it looked as if you were having a bad day yesterday, and I didn't want you to have two bad days in a row." Paige shrugged her shoulders slightly and glanced at Emily with a half-smile.

Emily's body collapsed a little, caught off-guard by the sweetness of what Paige had said. She laughed, without parting her lips. "Well, aren't you thoughtful?" she said sincerely. A phone call would've been cheaper.

"Oh," Paige said, looking away again. "So that's what yesterday was about," she mumbled.

What, this chick can read my mind? Oh, God! Did I say that out loud?

"Um… Listen… About the phone call." Paige's chest heaved up as she took a deep breath. "I… um… Well, it's hard, you know, to call a beautiful girl like you…" Emily turned her head away quickly, as her face lit up with a smile. She didn't want Paige to catch her in that shy moment. Emily didn't have self-esteem problems; of course, she knew that she was attractive. Still, it felt nice to hear the person she was crushing on say it. "And it was even harder," Paige continued, "when you didn't text me back that night." Emily looked at Paige skeptically. "I mean – not that you had to text me back, but… I… just thought that… when you didn't, maybe… you wanted some space."

"So… you were too intimidated to call, but not too intimidated to surprise me with flowers?"

"Well, yeah!" Paige rubbed the back of her neck nervously. "I figured, you know. If you shot me down, at least you'd get some lovely roses out of it."

Emily grinned at that, and she touched Paige softly on the shoulder with three fingers from the hand that was holding the coffee. She was amused (and a little amazed) at the workings of Paige's mind.

"I figured, the worst that could happen was that you weren't – you know – 'out' in public, so you'd have to scold me severely and pretend that you were straight."

Emily rolled her eyes "Oh, Paige," she said through a laugh, shaking her head.

Paige looked at Emily, with her head bowed and her nose scrunched up. "So, you forgive me?"

Emily sighed, dropping her shoulders. "Of course," she said softly. Then, changing her expression, trying to look stern, she added, "But next time just call me, okay?" Some of the desperation that she was feeling sneaked out in her tone.

"I promise," Paige said, smiling softly through the guilt she was feeling. Emily bumped her with her shoulder, to let her know that it was okay.

Emily took a deep breath, shifting the flowers a bit, as they started to grow heavy in her arm. Paige reached over and took them from her, so that Emily could finish her cappuccino.

As they got close to Paige's stop, Emily took the flowers back, giving them a good sniff. "How am I going to get these into my school without attracting attention?" she wondered out loud.

"Oh, I thought of that!" Paige said quickly. "I don't have any classes today, so I can take them when you get off the bus, and then meet you after school and give them back to you."

Paige reached for the roses, but Emily jerked them away from her. "Are you kidding?" She lowered her voice, her tone becoming playful. "I want everybody to know that a hot college babe got me flowers!" Paige covered her face with her hand, laughing shyly. "But you can still meet me after school," Emily added quickly. She turned her head away, not wanting to appear too desperate. "If… if you want."

"I would love that."

"I'd love it, too." Emily gave Paige a peck on the cheek, and Paige bit her lip. She was definitely going to be taking the bus more often.

A/N - I was walking home and noticed how close Strayer University is to Friends Select School on the Parkway in Philadelphia, and a few thousand words later, out came this story. Thanks for reading! 3