Slide Into My DM

Chapter Three

Megara

Grabbing our usual seats in Honors College Composition One, I nudge Frankie and whisper, “God, there he is.”

Her eyes follow my gaze to the front of the class, and she whispers back, “He is so f*****g annoying.”

Brows tight, I nod, “What’s his name again?”

“f**k if I know. Thomas? Tommy… something like that.”

I roll my eyes. “Whatever. I just wish he’d keep his mouth shut.”

Misses Meriscko suddenly walks in, so I finish pulling out my supplies. The one day the kid hasn’t been here was probably my favorite day of class. He wasn’t there to answer every question, he wasn’t there to reference nonsense, he wasn’t there to ask things that weren’t strictly relevant. Seriously, how is such a pretty guy such a teacher’s pet? Thinking about it, though, he probably annoys Meriscko just as much.

After class, Frankie and I are the last ones to leave. Down the hallway, headed to the stairs, she shakes her head. “For real though, every time Tom opens his mouth, I want to punch him in the face.”

I look around cautiously and nudge her with my elbow. Trying not to laugh, I go “Shh, someone could hear you.”

She laughs, “Right, can’t threaten violence on campus,” she teases, “it’s supposed to be a Safe Space.” On the main floor, she throws an arm around me, “Did you see his face though when you would straight up not talk to him?”

I rolled my eyes, but smiled, “He kept asking me direct questions, and it’s like, com’on dude, read the room.”

“Maybe he’s one of those assholes that needs to have to the final word.”

In building G, we cross over to the far side. Readjusting my messenger bag strap, I try to c***k my neck. “It’s possible. I mean, he’s obviously very smart, but that doesn’t mean he has to prove it every chance he gets.”

“Well, you keep doing you. I think he finally realized there’s someone smarter than him in the class.”

I elbow her, “Aww, shucks.”

She holds the door to the library open, “I mean it! I know I’m in the class, too, but it’s because you help me so much. I’m definitely going to drop doing to ten-twenty next semester.”

I give her a puppy dog look on the way to the back table. “No! Don’t leave me alone. What if he’s in my class?”

She hands me a Three Musketeer’s Bar, “You’ll be just fine.”

Curled in the corner of the couch, my favorite blanket draped over me, I put my tea on the coffee table and continue reading The Great Gatsby for fun. I’d mentioned it to Triple G when I was re-arranging my bookcase and I couldn’t help but pick it up right away and start over. Soon enough I’ll have to rewatch the Leonardo DiCaprio movie, too.

“Oh my God,” Frankie comments from the kitchen.

There’s an alarm in her voice, not excitement, so I look up, “What?”

She slowly walking towards me, her phone out even though it’s too far away to see. “I found his Instagram.”

“Whose?”

“Tom, from English.” She slides in right next to me, “Look at this shit.”

I take her phone and realize she’s scrolled pretty far. Slowly making my way back to the top, I should have known this is what his profile would look like. BMW for a car, imported drinking water from Norway, shopping bags from J. Crew and Apple, the latest iPhone, a really nice looking tv with all the game systems…. But “s**t, he has a lot of books.”

She peeks over, “Well, we could have guessed that from class.”

I turn the phone towards her, “And his cat’s really cute.”

“Can’t hate on animals, that’s true.”

Almost to the top, I keep scrolling. Every so often there’s a picture of himself, usually at the gym. Tall, broad shoulders, lean muscles, square jaw, dark hair. In the sunlight, his eyes are icy blue, and when his five o’clock shadow is dark it makes him that much more handsome. “Well, and I hate to say it, but he does know how to take a good selfie.”

She grunts. “He’s probably a Leo.”

“Thomas Banks…, huh.”

Taking her phone back, she looks. “Do you think that’s his real name or because he has money?”

I try to think back to the attendance sheet. “If I remember correctly, that’s his real name.”

She lifts from the couch, “Well, either way, it fits, in a stupid Richie Rich way.”

I know it’s late and I don’t exactly want a response….

But have you ever wondered about your life in the grand scheme of things?

Sometimes I wonder… about my life, my plans, my actions – how does this really matter? What does it actually affect? My life is small. significant, to me, sure, but small. I come from a tiny family, I have a few good friends, I have a part-time job…. As you can see, most of my possessions are antique or vintage, almost always second-hand.

Does that make me any less? Is my existence somehow less valuable?

Other than school, I wonder: do I do all this because I like it? Or because it’s expected of me?

Am I choosing to do this or am I stuck because I’m not brave enough?

So much of what I do reminds me of things I’ve read or watched… shouldn’t it be the other way around? Shouldn’t I be leading a grand life where when I read a book, it brings out a good memory? I guess… I guess I’m just sending this cosmic question out into the void….

So, good night, dear ‘G,

Your T & R.

Thomas

Having picked up my little sister from Dad’s, our sibling bonding day can finally start. We still had an hour or so before the start of the movie, but Ashley said she wasn’t hungry. “What about Barnes And Noble?” I look over to the passenger seat. “I bet we could kill some time in there.”

She perks up and actually looks away from her phone. I love that even though there’s a seven-year difference we still have things in common. “Yeah? We could do that. I just finished reading the last book of my to-read pile.”

“You still loving those teen romances?”

“Well, yeah…. But I think I’m switching from the fantasy genre to realistic. So many people at my school are obsessing over this supernatural series or that dystopian one – it’s getting really annoying,”

Knowing the hipster-ness runs in the family, I just smile, “Makes sense. At least it’ll be super easy then to find a new book.”

And she’s back on her phone. “Right, ‘cause the realistic ones should be on the opposite side.”

The rest of the ride is pretty silent, I never know if it’s okay to turn up the music with someone else in the car. What if they randomly want to chat? What if they don’t like the band? And as for my sister’s frequently changing taste, it’s safer just to leave it low.

Close enough to the store now, she looks up and recognizes that we’re almost there. She reaches for her purse and puts her phone away. Blinking, I know she’s trying to readjust her vision from near-sighted to far.

Lucky enough to find a free spot right in front, I slide right in and cut the engine. Ashley is quicker out of the car than I am and looks back when she gets to the doors. She holds the door open for me; I get the next one for her.

“I’m pretty sure young adult is straight back,” I point past the information desk.

She nods, “Yeah. It was a few months ago they swapped it with the anime, comic book, gaming section.”

Stopped just inside the door, I ask “Do you want anything from Starbucks?”

She shrugs, “My usual?”

“Sure thing,” and she knows I’ll meet her by the books.

I weave through the random tables of sale items and walk into the café. There are only two people in line, so it should move quickly enough. I eye the sweets display as I wait but know I’m going to be disappointed in their sugar cookies. When it’s my turn, I don’t even need to look at the menu, “One venti iced peach green tea lemonade and one grande strawberry acai refresher, please.”

“And do you have a Barnes And Noble membership?” I hand her the card I already had out. “Thanks, it’ll be just a few minutes.”

After taking my receipt, I wander to the far end of the counter. Out of boredom, I look at their tea selection for sale. It holds my attention just long enough for the drinks to come out. I nod, “Thanks,” and head to the middle of the store. Once I hand Ashley her drink, she replies, “Thanks.”

Again, I nod. “No problem. I’m going to go look at classics.”

She’s turned back to the shelves and doesn’t look when she says, “Okay.”

Around the escalator, I find the classics section right away. But it’s quite a ways down that I find F. Scott Fitzgerald. I pick up a classic edition of The Great Gatsby, and I wonder if I should get the stand-alone book or a complete works edition. Suddenly, a thin hand comes in front of me, reaching for a book I’m in the way of. I back up and say “Sorry,” just as she does.

The gorgeous girl looks familiar, but it takes a moment to place her. As she gives a polite smile, it clicks – she’s the quiet, but really f*****g smart, girl in my English class.

Looking nothing like she does at school, I give her a once over. Her usually forgettable brunette hair is down from its lazy topknot is long, purposefully curled, and showing auburn highlights. Her usually bare face has just enough makeup to enhance her from pretty to beautiful. And instead of wearing a thick sweater and the same ol’ jeans, she’s wearing a long-sleeved, thigh-length, sweater dress that hugs her curves in all the right places.

I give a sexy half-smile, “Hey.”

Her brows come together ever so slightly. “Hi?”

I gesture with my drink, “I’m Tom, from English honors.”

She’d glanced at my drink when I moved it, now she does a single nod. “Right.”

“And you’re Meg?”

She takes a deep breath, the deep neckline of her dress showing the expansion of her chest. (Where I notice a locket with detail of a rose.) “Megara, yeah.”

I look back at her Spring green eyes. “Like from Hercules?”

Her little fingers tuck hair around her ear, “Actually, Megaera – spelled m, e, g, a, e, r, a is from Greek mythology. She’s the daughter of Nox and Acheron. Though,” she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, “I do like Disney’s version better.”

This is maybe the most I’ve ever heard her speak and truthfully, I really love her voice. It’s soft and intimate, but there’s the power behind every word she chooses. “Are your parents big into Greek mythology, then?”

Almost like she’s confused by my sudden interest in her, she looks around. When she can’t find whatever, she’s looking for, she answers, “Well, my dad teaches it, so I’d hope so.”

“And your mom?”

Her shoulders dropped, “She passed away when I was young. She was an English professor before she got pregnant, though….”

I shrink back a little, “I’m sorry.”

She shrugs and looks down at the book she grabbed. “Mm. Well, I better go.”

“Yeah… see you Monday?”

She nods and smiles softly. As she walks past me, she points to the book in my hand. “If you haven’t read The Great Gatsby, it’s really good… one of my favorites actually.”

After dropping off Ashley, I sit in the driveway and write a quick message to T & R.

I picked up a few new books today, I just couldn’t help myself. B&N was actually part of my sibling bonding time, did I ever tell you I had a sister? Anyway, I think you’ll be pleased to know I grabbed a copy of The Great Gatsby. I’m slowly realizing that what we deem our favorite books say a lot about us. (The general us, not just you and me.)

I was surprised to see she’d already written back by the time I get home.

That’s the thing about books, I think. Books aren’t just something we read, something we collect, something we talk about in school. Books help us become whoever it is we’re going to turn out to be. Think about it….

The books we read as a child becomes part of our identity, (like Harry Potter or A Series Of Unfortunate Events or Golden Compass or… well, etc.), in a way that no other reading in our whole life does.

And then, as we grow, as we mature, reading can be our first introduction to love, to romance, to the idea of soulmates and fate.

Books are not just our choice of entertainment – what we read is a reflection of our Selves. It’s not just what we choose to enjoy, it’s what makes us feel in ways nothing else in this world can.

Thumbnail to my lip, resting my hand against my chin. I read the message over again for the third time. Whoever this girl is… this beautiful soul of a woman, she is… simply enchanting.