Chapter 3
2069 Words
I assumed that being social was similar to riding a bike.
There hadn't been any awkward moments, other than Miller's unnecessary advise, which required me to deliberately run into Cam the next time I saw him. To be honest, I had essentially forgotten about Cam by the end of the day.
I went to the financial building to pick up a work-study application before I left campus. I needed the time-killing activities to keep my mind active more than I needed the money. I would have an absurd amount of spare time despite having a full load of eighteen credit hours. Although applying for a job on campus seemed like the best course of action, there were no openings. My name was added to a long waiting list.
The campus has a charming, serene quality that made it quite lovely. It was nothing like the enormous university campuses. It resembled a postcard, tucked down between the Potomac River and the small, historic hamlet of Shepherdstown. Large steeple-topped buildings interspersed with more contemporary constructions. There are trees everywhere. Everything you needed was close by, and the air was clean. On brighter days, I could actually avoid paying the metre by walking or at the very least, parking on West Campus.
I hoofed it back towards my car while savouring the warm breeze after providing my information for the waiting list. As opposed to this morning, when I was racing late, I had time to look around the homes en route to the train station. Side by side, three residences with a porch full of males in their undergraduate years. Probably the fraternity row version at this institution.
One man, holding a beer, glanced up. He gave a brief smile before turning around to be smacked in the back by a football that shot out of the open door. Curses became viral.
Of course, fraternity row.
I quickened my steps and hurried past the houses, causing my spine to stiffen. I came to a crossroads, got out, and just as I was about to cross a small road, a silver truck—possibly a Tundra—sped onto it and almost hit me. It clamped down on its brakes, obstructing my way, and my heart leaped.
Bewildered, I stepped back onto the curb. Was I going to get a call from the driver?
As soon as the tinted passenger window down, I nearly lost consciousness.
From behind the wheel, with his baseball cap on, Ethan Reynolds glanced back and smiled at me. Curled up beneath the band were strands of brown hair. And there was no shirt on him at all. And based just on what I could see of him, his chest was really nice. The man possessed pecs. in addition to a tattoo. A sun burst in bright red and orange flames that trailed back over his shoulders and landed on his right chest.
"We meet again, Emily Hollis."
I didn't want to see him at all. I had the luckiest person alive. "Hello, Ethan Reynolds."
Leaning over, he placed one arm across the steering wheel. Apologies. In addition, he has impressive biceps. "We need to change the way we meet."
And it was the purest thing that had ever been said. I had to get over focusing on his tattoo, chest, and biceps. I never imagined the sun could be so... alluring. Whoa. It was uncomfortable.
"Me nearly running over you, you running over me?" Cam continued. "We seem like a disaster waiting to happen."
I didn't know how to respond to that. My mind felt jumbled and my mouth was dry.
"Where are you going?"
"My vehicle," I yanked out. "I have almost run out of time." Not necessarily true—he didn't need to know that I had been giving out the coins liberally to avoid getting a parking penalty. "All right, so..."
"Well, my love, get in there. I am able to transport you.
In a strange and disorienting way, blood surged to other regions of my body and drained from my face. Not at all. It's alright. Exactly up the hill am I. Not at all necessary.
That one dimple was exposed when the smile widened on the side. "There is no issue. The least I could have done after nearly running you over was this.
"I'm grateful, but—"
"Hey, Cam!" Beer Guy glanced at me before leaping off the porch and jogging down the sidewalk. "Man, what are you up to?"
The frat dude saved me.
Cam's eyes remained fixed on me, but his smile began to fade. "I'm just trying to have a conversation, Kevin. Nothing."
I ran by Kevin towards the front of the trunk, waving briefly at Cam. Though I didn't turn around, I could sense him observing. Over the years, I've developed the ability to recognise when someone is staring at you when you're not looking.
It was unacceptable for me to run away from the same guy twice in one day, so I made myself stop before I could sprint to the train station. for myself as well.
It wasn't until I was driving and the car's engine was humming that I realised I had been holding my breath.
Jesus.
I moaned as I leaned my head against the driving wheel. A disaster just waiting to happen? Yes, that seems about correct.
Tuesday night's three-hour sociology lesson hadn't been as difficult as I had anticipated, but by the time it ended, I was really hungry. I picked up an MTO at the Sheetz, a convenience store/gas station that isn't available in Texas, before returning to my flat. A salad made to order with lots of ranch dressing and fried chicken strips.
Ahh. wholesome.
There were a tonne of cars in the parking lot, some of which were parked in the adjacent field that bordered West Campus. When I had gone for my evening lesson, it hadn't been like this, and I had wondered what was going on. After searching far and wide for a parking space close to the main road, I turned on the engine and heard my cell phone rattling in the cup holder.
Upon seeing that it was a text from Miller, I smiled. We had previously swapped phone numbers during class because he resided in a dorm.
His text was simply, "Art sucks."
We had to figure out which painting belonged to which era for our homework, so I laughed and sent him back. Thank heavens for Google, because that's how I was finishing the homework.
I grabbed my food and bag and got out of my car. I lifted my hair off my neck, wishing I had tied it up into a ponytail, because the air felt sticky. But there was a hint of autumn in the air, and I was excited for some lower temperatures. Perhaps snow in the wintertime. I crossed the well-lit parking lot and made my way to the apartment complex in the middle. Although it felt like many students lived here and that most hadn't really started to arrive until today, I knew where all the cars were coming from as soon as I stepped out onto the pavement since I was on the top floor—the fifth.
Somewhere inside my flat building, there was a thumping of music. As I made my way upstairs, I noticed that several lights were on and that I could hear bits and pieces of speech. I located the guilty party on the fifth floor. Two doors down, the flat across the hall, was having a party. Light and music flooded into the open hallway through the cracked door.
As I unlocked my door, a tiny twinge of jealousy crawled inside my chest. The music sounded good, and there was a lot of laughter and noise. Parties aside, it all seemed so natural, like something I should be doing.
I never had a good time at parties.
I shut my door and placed my bag on the couch, taking off my shoes. My bank account had taken a hit when I furnished this flat, but I believed I could either carry it with me or sell it when I moved out after four years.
And everything in it was me. I took great pride in that.
Long after I finished my not-so-healthy salad, changed into sleep shorts and a long sleeve shirt, and finished my art homework, the party continued across the hall. I gave up trying to study my English assignment just after midnight and headed back towards my bedroom.
However, I came to a halt in the hallway, my toes tucked into the carpet.
I realised their door must have been open when I heard a sudden burst of muffled laughter that was louder than before. I froze, worrying about my bottom lip. What if someone I knew from class was there when I opened the door? The party was obviously thrown by a college student. Would I know the person, perhaps? What would happen if I did? It wasn't like I was going to participate when I was rocking the messiest ponytail imaginable, wearing my pyjamas and no bra.
I looked at my reflection as I turned and turned on the bathroom light. After removing all makeup, my face appeared more flushed than usual and the freckles on the bridge of my nose stood out greatly. I pulled my face closer to the mirror and leaned on the washbasin, something my mother would have laughed at.
With the exception of my reddish-brown hair that was from my father, I was the spitting image of my mom. With her high cheekbones, round chin, and straight nose, along with all the cosmetic assistance she'd needed to look young over the years, we looked more like sisters than mother and daughter.
Footsteps echoed out in the hall. More giggling.
I made a face at my reflection and pulled away from the mirror. I told myself to go to sleep back in the hallway, but I kept seeing myself heading for my front door. Everything outside sounded warm and exciting, and everything inside was chilly and boring. I had no idea what I was doing or why I was being so nosy.
Warm and fun?
I rolled my eyes. God, I sounded lame. It was cold in here because I had the central air cranked like a mother.
But I was at the door and there was nothing stopping me. Yanking it open, I peered out into the stairwell, seeing two heads disappear down the steps. The door to the party was still open, and I stood there, torn. This wasn't where I belonged. Nobody was going to give me the ghetto look or curse at me. If anything, they would probably assume that me standing there with my door partially open, bug-eyed, and letting all the chilly air out was some sort of crazy.
“Bring Raphael back!” exclaimed a familiar voice and a deep laugh that had my stomach dropping in stunned disbelief. "You bastard!"
That voice was one I knew! God, oh God...
It is not possible. It wasn't like I was looking for his truck; I hadn't noticed the big ass silver truck outside, but then again, there were a lot of cars.
The door swung all the way open, and I froze as a guy stumbled out, laughing as he set a tortoise—what the f**k?—on the floor. The creature protruded its head, peered about, and then retreated within its shell.
A second later, the guy who’d put the tortoise outside was pulled back into the apartment and Cam appeared in the doorway in all his shirtless glory. With a downward motion, he picked up the small green creature. I apologise, Raphael. My pals are perfect, f*****g. He raised his head.
It was too late for me to snap back inside.
Cam noticed me.
"Stupid people..." He did a double take. “What the…?”
Would dive bombing into my apartment seem weird? Yes—yes it would. So I proceeded with a pretty lame, “Hey…”
Cam blinked many times, as if he wanted to clear his eyes. “Emily Hollis? This is becoming a habit.”
“Yeah.” I forced myself to swallow. “It is.”
“Do you live here or are you visiting…?”
- Writer
