Chapter Text
I've been dreaming 'bout the West Coast
Found some faces that I don't know
Give me the sun for just a year
I'll kiss the sky and disappear
“West Coast,” OneRepublic
Stanford, California
ca. 1992
Elizabeth Marie Weir is in California, she is wearing heels, and she has just presented a truly excellent paper to all of eleven people at Stanford University’s international policy conference.
Her feet ache and she feels like she’s playing dress-up in a blouse and skirt that sort of fit, but she has five business cards from potential graduate school faculty tucked into her binder, so she counts the day a win.
You’re a junior now, her advisor had told her. Time to think ahead. Figure out what comes after undergrad.
Northwestern graciously paid for her flight out here to present her paper, and luckily she has a high school classmate who plays tennis at Stanford, readily agreed to let Elizabeth stay at her apartment, and lives within walking distance of campus. Her roommate is out of town, so Elizabeth even gets to sleep in a real bed. Sometimes, the stars align.
When Elizabeth finally gets back to Jenny’s apartment that afternoon, she hates her shoes.
The weather, though. The weather. It’s October. She flew out of O’Hare in grey skies, rain and blustery wind, and right now it’s 76 degrees and sunny. This place is unreal.
She kicks off her shoes, bare feet on the cool floor as she shuts the front door behind her. “Jenny?”
Jenny, who is required to maintain her GPA to hang onto her tennis scholarship, is curled up on the couch with a notebook, pen, and hefty biology textbook. “Hey! Welcome back.”
“Thanks.”
“How was the conference?”
“Kind of boring, but I think they liked my paper.” Elizabeth yawns, sinking into the old rocking chair next to the couch. “And I met professors from Georgetown and Notre Dame, so hopefully they remember me when I apply to grad school.”
“That sounds great.”
“Yeah.” Overall, it feels like a success.
Jenny shuts her notebook and sets it on the coffee table, dropping her pen on top of it. “I know you’ve had a long day, but I hope you don’t mind if we go somewhere for dinner.”
Elizabeth manages not to groan out loud. She is so tired. “Okay—”
“Relax, it’s not a wild party. It’s just the three guys across the hall. I mentioned I had a friend coming here this weekend, and they invited us over,” Jenny laughs. “They have a grill. Aaron’s making burgers. Aren’t you hungry?”
The last thing Elizabeth ate was a granola bar for breakfast. “I’m starving.”
“There you go. We’ll go over, eat some food, drink a beer, have a good time, and you’ll be ready to fly out tomorrow. They’re really nice, too. You’ll like them.”
Jenny has been a very good host so far, so Elizabeth decides: she can trust her. “All right. I’m game.”
“Good.” Jenny beams. “Also, all of them are cute. Wear something nice.”
Elizabeth is standing in Jenny’s roommate’s room in her mismatched underwear, jeans in one hand, when Jenny yells, “Elizabeth? You ready?”
Elizabeth looks down at her duffel bag. “I didn’t really bring anything cute.”
Jenny pokes her head into the room, looks over Elizabeth for a long minute, then brightens. “Don’t worry. I have just the thing.”
“Jen—”
“Trust me!” Jenny disappears into her own room; Elizabeth hears hangers rattling as she looks through her closet. A moment later, she reappears and throws something at Elizabeth. “Try this.”
‘This’ is a pretty, soft red slip dress. Elizabeth raises an eyebrow. “Isn’t this a little—” She waves a hand vaguely.
“It’s perfect.”
“I don’t know—"
“Come on, try it on.”
Seeing that there’s no other option, Elizabeth sighs and pulls it over her head, tugging at the hem to make sure it’s falling evenly. “Are you sure?”
“Honestly, I never even wear it. It’s not really my color. But it’s so good on you.” Jenny flops back on the bed. “What do you think?”
“It’s kind of short.”
Jenny shrugs. “You’re taller than me. It looks great.”
Elizabeth looks in the mirror, turning to take in the full effect. Does it really look good? Or does she still look as out of place and uncertain as she feels, walking around this coastal paradise of red tile roofs and palm trees and effortlessly cool fashion?
“I don’t know.” Elizabeth wrinkles her nose. “Red?”
“Red.” Jenny gives her a thumbs up. “Definitely your color. Get your jean jacket, too. It’s cool at night.”
As it turns out, “the guys next door” are pretty chill. Mike is a tall, lanky, serious guy working on his master’s degree in bioengineering. Aaron, the grillmaster, is a senior studying meteorology who’s determined to become a stormchaser someday. He and Jenny both play tennis, and Elizabeth is fairly sure each one has a crush on the other, but neither is aware that the other one feels that way.
Mike ushers the girls into the living room, where they crash on a big, comfy overstuffed couch with beers, chatting about school and music and TV and nothing in particular. Elizabeth leans over towards Jenny. “Didn’t you say there were three guys here?”
“The nerd is out,” Aaron yells from the kitchen.
“He means John,” Jenny explains.
“Yeah,” Aaron continues to yell while clinking various kitchen utensils. “John. He went up to campus for a meeting. He should be back soon.”
“He’s a nerd?”
“Yeah, he’s a nerd,” Mike says. “He’s studying math. Like some kind of geek.”
Elizabeth decides not to point out that Mike, the bioengineer, is also wearing thick glasses. It doesn’t seem helpful.
The front door opens, then slams shut. “Hey, guys,” a yell comes from the hallway. “I’m home.”
“That’s John,” Jenny explains. Elizabeth nods.
“Aaron, you cooking?” As he yells, John walks past the main room, and Elizabeth gets a quick look at him.
John—John is cute. Messy hair, bright eyes, striped rugby shirt and perfectly-fitting jeans. He looks like he walked right out of a Ralph Lauren catalog.
“Hey, idiot.” Aaron points at Elizabeth with his spatula. “Jenny’s friend is here.”
John turns, a bewildered look on his face like he had completely forgotten there might be people in the living room. When he sees Elizabeth, his eyes brighten, and the rush of butterflies in her stomach is absolutely unmistakable.
Oh, no.
“Hey.”
She manages to keep her voice steady. “Hi.”
After dinner—Aaron has excellent grill skills and the burgers are delicious—Mike leaves to go see a movie with some other friends, Jenny and Aaron settle on the couch to yell at a football game together, and Elizabeth stares blankly at the TV until John asks if she wants to sit outside for a while. “You look bored,” he explains. “And it’s really nice out.”
She perks up, because fresh air sounds good. Also, well. He’s just so—
‘Outside’ apparently means a little balcony outside the apartment’s little kitchen, where they settle on a pair of couch cushions set back against the wall. Music floats across the street; someone’s having a party, and the sidewalk is alive with people walking by, laughing and chatting. Elizabeth folds her legs carefully underneath her, shivering a little at a gust of wind. The cool night air is refreshing, if a bit brisk. She’s glad Jenny told her to bring her jacket.
“You good?” John asks, and she nods.
“I can’t get over the weather here. It’s amazing.”
“You’re from Chicago, right?”
“Uh—well, I go to Northwestern. I’m actually from Michigan.”
“Cool.”
He grins, as if Michigan is some fascinating, exotic place, and Elizabeth takes a long drink of her beer, hoping the blush on her face isn’t obvious. He’s so cute. And he’s cool. He’s totally relaxed, his entire persona so perfectly in place here on a balcony beside a stand of palm trees, just a few miles from the ocean. Maybe he did just walk out of the pages of a catalog. “So where are you from?”
“Massachusetts.”
East Coast? Well, that’s not what she was expecting. “Seriously? You seem very California.”
He laughs at that. “Yeah, well, I like it here.”
Elizabeth leans back against the wall, tipping her head back to look up at the sky. Not too many stars are visible, but a few glitter through, and the moon is bright. “I can see why. It’s beautiful.”
After a moment of silence, she turns to find John looking at her with an expression she doesn’t understand, and she feels suddenly, overwhelmingly self-conscious. “What?”
“Jenny said you were cool. But I didn’t know you’d be this cool.”
“Yeah?” No one has ever called her ‘cool.’ ‘A pleasure to have in class,’ sure. But not ‘cool.’
“Yeah.”
The way he’s looking at her makes her shiver. She likes it. She can’t look away. “I heard you were a nerd.”
“What?” He gasps in mock indignation. “I’m a very cool nerd, thank you very much.”
“Isn’t that a contradiction in terms?”
“Nope.” He finishes his own beer and sets the empty bottle on the deck beside them. “C’mon, you can’t write me off like that. Just ‘cause I’m a math major.”
“So I need to get to know you, huh?” She really, really likes the idea of that. Probably more than she should. “Favorite food?”
“Pizza.”
“Favorite color?”
He pauses for a second, his eyes flickering down over her before he says, “Red.”
The look in his eyes makes her blush all over again. Elizabeth has to catch her breath. “Favorite movie?”
He scoffs. “Easy. Top Gun by a mile.”
“Top Gun, huh?” That explains the VHS tape she saw in the living room. “Never seen it.”
“You’ve never seen Top Gun?” John is scandalized. “And you’re on my balcony?”
“I’m sure it’s very good—”
“It’s awesome—”
“—I just never saw it,” she offers with a shrug. “Sorry.”
“I’m gonna try to accept that.”
“Very generous of you.”
“I think that’s probably illegal,” he informs her seriously. “It’s against the law to not watch Top Gun.”
“What, are you gonna come to Northwestern and make me watch it?”
“Maybe I will,” he tells her defiantly. “Maybe I’ll just bring my copy over and refuse to leave until you watch it.”
“Kind of a long drive.”
He shrugs. “I have a pilot’s license.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” he says, as if everyone has one. “Been flying for three years now.”
“You’d fly all the way to Chicago just to make sure I see a movie? That’s real dedication.”
“Wouldn’t be so bad. I could see you again.”
Elizabeth smooths the skirt over her thighs, if only to give her suddenly-shaky hands something to do.
What is this? What is this entire situation? She’s sitting on a balcony in California, wearing a dress she wouldn’t normally wear, looking down at palm trees, listening to hip-hop music floating in from the party across the street, and the guy sitting with her—
He’s so, so cute, and he’s funny and smart and she likes him so much—
She kisses him before she can talk herself out of it.
Maybe it’s California. Maybe it’s the beer. Maybe it’s just him. For once in her ordered, perfectly-planned life, Elizabeth is running on pure impulse. She kisses him because she wants to, and there’s nothing stopping her, and it feels so good to kiss him that she never wants to stop.
It’s sensory overload. His mouth is hot on hers. His tongue is heavy in her mouth. She gives in to the temptation to run one hand through his soft hair, scratching her nails lightly over his scalp. He groans, pulling her closer, and there’s nothing else, just his mouth on hers and the heat flooding her entire body, the unmistakable ache low inside her that makes her want to forget everything else.
Just as she gets the courage to reach for the hem of his shirt, Jenny’s voice floats out from the apartment living room. “Elizabeth? You still out there?”
Shit.
She pulls away from John with a gasp. Her heart is racing, her face burning in the cool night air. “I’m here, yeah.”
If Jenny realizes what’s happening, Elizabeth will never, ever hear the end of it.
John tucks a stray curl behind her ear, his hand on her cheek so gentle that her heart stumbles in her chest. His voice is quiet, even as she can see he’s as off-center as she is. “You don’t have to go.”
She does. She really does. Because if she stays, she’s going to do something a lot stupider than kissing this guy she just met, barely knows, and should not like as much as she does.
“It was nice to meet you.” She cringes internally as she says it, the words ringing hollow in her own mind, but there’s nowhere else to go, and she needs this to be over.
“Elizabeth—”
“I can’t, I’m sorry.” She scrambles to her feet, looking anywhere but at his face. “Good night.”
Elizabeth tosses and turns that night, wondering if John is doing the same in his own bed across the hallway.
When she does finally fall asleep, she has a strange, fitful dream. She only remembers bits and pieces when she wakes up: a dark sky above a balcony, an ocean stretching out in the distance, and a handsome boy with messy hair, green eyes, and a teasing smile.
She wakes up early. Pulls the sheets off the bed for washing. Packs her bag. Grabs an apple for breakfast.
As Jenny pulls out of the parking lot to drive her to the train station, Elizabeth steals one last glance at the balcony outside the guys’ apartment, but there’s no one there.
At 9:25am, her flight lifts off the ground from San Francisco, and Jenny, John, Stanford, and everything else becomes a rapidly-shrinking image out the window.