The Exception to the Rule

by Christina Lauren

I like a lot of things, but I don’t LOVE any one thing. It feels scary, you know? To worry I might commit to something because I have to but not because I love it.

Callum Sundberg? The graduate student in our program a few years ahead of me and Elise? The literal embodiment of charisma?

“Please don’t tell anyone about this,” he says quietly.

Thank God it happened on Valentine’s Day, because the second I get home, I’m going to email C and tell him all about this.

Revision: I will tell C everything except the way I feel that thumb stroke everywhere. “I’m sure I’m okay,” I tell him, knowing I’m not okay at all.

SO

I’m in this library alone and I hear someone coming so I panic and instead of just staying in the chair like a normal person and being like, “Hi, yes I’m just hanging out and getting away from the party for a few minutes,” I hid in the closet.

MY VERY HOT, VERY INTIMIDATING TA. And the worst part was that I MUST HAVE MADE A SOUND BECAUSE WHEN SHE LEFT IN SHAME AND SHAMBLES, HE WALKED OVER AND FOUND ME IN THE CLOSET.

I do not think disbelief is the right word. I don’t even know what the right word is.

T and Terra are both first-year graduate students. T and Terra were both hiding in a closet earlier. T and Terra both overheard her TA being propositioned, and I was propositioned, and I am a TA of a graduate class. T is Terra. Her name is Terra.

I just met her, but she has no idea she’s just met me.

My weakness is tall women. She played lacrosse. She was raised by a single mother. She has a younger brother. And since I was sixteen, she’s been part of my life.

I must be a conundrum wrapped in a mystery tied with a puzzle shoved in a pickle jar.

Callum (that’s his name) is objectively attractive, but I am excited to see you this summer.

Overhearing that conversation made me realize I’ve never really had good sex.

From the second Terra walked out of the classroom, I wanted to see her again. Immediately. I have this buzzed, vibrating feeling in my limbs. No matter how fantastical it sounds, it feels like we were destined to run into each other in some truly unbelievable way.

I’m not the TA anymore, as of about a half hour ago.”

Terra narrows her eyes at me, suspicious. “You sure it isn’t because I know all about your sexual prowess?” I’m unable to keep my laugh in. This is exactly how T would have teased me, and I fucking love seeing her relax. “Yes, you’re right. Having a reputation of being an amazing lay is just too great a burden for me.”

“This is going to sound really weird,” she begins. I know exactly what she’s going to say, and now I’m dying to hear our story from her soft, plump lips. “Hit me.” I lean in.

“But I don’t actually know his name.”

“It’s a long story and I won’t bore you with it,” she says, “but basically when I was fourteen, he accidentally emailed me instead of his teacher, and we’ve been in touch ever since.”

“I don’t know where he lives.” She drops her hand, laughing. “He’s originally from Irvine, like me. We have this thing, okay?” She picks up a dumpling and holds it aloft, studying it. “We get soup dumplings when we’re thinking about each other.” She was thinking about me.

“Do you ever have a feeling about someone? Like they’re your safe space and, I don’t know, like someday it could be more?” I swallow, nodding. “Yeah. Of course.” I’m looking right at her. “I have a feeling about him.” But the thing is, when she looks up at me and our eyes lock, I’m pretty sure she has a feeling about me, too.

“Can I take you out to dinner?” His question comes out of absolutely nowhere, and my fists drop like stones. “What?” “Dinner.” He cutely mimes spooning food into his mouth. “Sun goes down. People eat.” “Like a date?” “I hope so? I intend to flirt.”

“Text me your address. I’ll pick you up at seven.” In shock, I watch him walk away. I look down at my phone. He’s created a new contact with his number. The Hot TA. Oh my God.

C . . . my hands are shaking right now. I am freaking the hell out. I live in Philly, too. And I think you know that.

He replies with a phone number. And when I enter it into a text box, an existing contact pops up on-screen. The Hot TA.

How on earth is it even possible that I am going on a date with Callum Sundberg, who also happens to be my longtime valentine?

As if it isn’t enough that it’s Callum Sundberg picking me up in—oh, shit—five minutes, it’s also that it’s C. It’s the boy who thanked me for replying to his typo email and who sent me a note the following year to make sure I got at least one valentine.

It’s my conundrum wrapped in a mystery tied with a puzzle shoved in a pickle jar.

Forget flowers; give me a cupcake and it’s a perfect date. After all this time, he remembered?

I jog down to him, where he and that sparkling, widening smile are walking toward me, faster now, and I throw my arms around him. He catches me with one arm, holding me so tight, and exhaling the most amazing sound into my neck.

“I don’t normally kiss before the first date,” I tell him. “But you’re the exception to the rule.”

when I asked you to marry me exactly at midnight?

You’ll never forget what I said because I think you are still deaf from how loud I screamed YES into your ear. Are we still going to be emailing each other from the same couch on Valentine’s Day in fifty years?

Without question.