The Folder

Chapter Three

Victoria and Julius

I awake my head pounding and my neck stiff. I had fallen asleep staring out the window blankly. The morning sun warms my face as I painfully stand and stretch. I need a shower and out of these clothes. I make my way to the door and reach for the handle, “No use, I’ve already tried.” I jump at the voice across the room. I’d almost forgotten I had company. “Looks like we're stuck here again.”

I turn around but don’t say anything. He’s still lying in bed but he’s changed his clothes. Instead of wearing pants and a shirt, he now wears nothing but boxers.

I close my eyes and head to the bathroom, all the while feeling his eyes follow me, but I never give him the satisfaction of meeting his gaze.

I turn on the water and wait for it to heat up, throwing my clothes down the laundry chute. My complexion looks paler than usual, causing my brown hair to look almost black. I stare at myself in the mirror, wondering what the hell is going on with all of this. Why am I here? Why did they choose me for this? Whatever this is. I don’t have the highest marks, or volunteer hours, or the highest anything. There is literally nothing that makes me stand out from my peers. So why am I standing here? In Julius’s bathroom of all places. What is my purpose here?

I take a deep breath needing to calm down. This is insane.

The shower or the steam doesn’t do much to clear my head. If anything, it just gives me too much time to think. After drying off, my heart sinks to the bottom of my stomach when I realize I’ve forgotten something...my clothes. Forgotten them completely. I didn’t even pack any from my apartment. I was so caught up in the moment. My last outfit just went down the laundry chute. I stand here biting my nails with my towel wrapped securely around me, my hair dripping onto the white tiles. I stand for what seems like forever until finally cracking the door, “Uhm Julius?”

“What?” He asks, annoyed.

“Can I borrow some of your clothes?” I ask quietly.

“If you want me to join you, all you have to do is ask,” he says, and I hear him get off the bed and start rummaging through drawers.

I groan and lean my head on the door.

He puts his hand on the door. “Are you going to let me in or not?”

“Not,” I say immediately.

“What happened to your clothes?”

“I...I forgot them,” I say, defeated. He laughs. “It’s not funny.”

“You move into a new apartment and forget all of your clothes? Yeah that’s hilarious.”

“Just please hand them to me,” I say, opening the gap a little more and reaching around to grab them. He hands them over and I slam the door, my heart racing like crazy. I can’t help but to be attracted to this maniac.

He gave me boxers and a t-shirt. Well, of course he did, because asking for pants would be a little much. I roll my eyes even though he can’t see me. I pull the wrinkled clothes on quickly. They’re way too big but at least they’re comfortable, and my boobs are too small for a bra to make that big of a difference.

I push open the door and chew on my lip nervously. He sits at the kitchen counter, his back turned to me and doesn’t even look up, but continues reading a book that lies before him.

I hesitate before crawling into the small bed and underneath the covers. The smell of him surrounds me and eventually I fall asleep cocooned in a large blanket. When I wake up again, the only light comes from the stove's red numbers. 10:52. I’ve slept all day, and yet I still feel unnaturally sleepy. “Julius?” I yawn.

He sits up from the floor beside me. Usually I would jump but there’s something calming about him. “Yeah?” he asks, staring at me through alert eyes.

“Why am I here? What did the folder say?”

No answer.

“Please tell me, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Trust me, you don’t want to think about it. You won’t like it.”

“Is it painful?”

“Well, it could be for you, it just depends.”

“Depends on what?”

His hand touches the bed, “can you please just go back to sleep?”

“Why wouldn’t it be painful for you?”

“Go. To. Sleep.” He says with punctuality while lying back down.

We breathe in the darkness for a few minutes before I open my mouth again, “It just occurred to me that you never asked me my name.”

“That’s because I already know who you are.”

I smirk, “You’re a liar.”

“A friend told me about you once.”

My heart stops, surely he couldn’t mean… “Nice try but I don’t know any of your friends.”

“Mmm…” he mumbles. But then he sits up, “why are you lying?”

“Why won’t you tell me what the folder said?” I ask rolling onto my side to face him.

“Touche,” he smirks. We lay here staring at each other, neither saying a word for the longest time. “You’re a horrible liar.”

I try giving him the death stare, but it only makes him smile more. His heartbeat echoes loudly around the room or maybe it’s mine. If he was just a boy and I was just a girl, I might reach out and pull him up to me because there’s no doubt in my mind that he wouldn’t turn me away. I know hundreds of girls that would kill for this opportunity, and I know many who already have. If he takes the first step, I don’t think I’d be able to stop him. He’s like a black hole sucking me inwards. I’ve never felt anything like it. I want to whisper to him to kiss me but something in the back of my mind stops me. It’s probably the rational part of me, warning me about what happened the last time I let someone go there with me. But still I find myself blushing and smiling stupidly under his stare. “What?” I finally ask, unable to take the tension any longer.

“Nothing,” he says, still not moving.

“Tell me what’s in the folder,” I say, trying to sound seductive.

He smirks that stupid smirk of his, “no.”

I take a deep breath and do one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do; I roll over and face the wall. I don’t say anything until I hear him lay back down. “Goodnight Julius.”

“Goodnight Victoria,” he whispers.

***

Arthur

He makes his way back up to his room, his thoughts and heart going faster than ever before. He paces back and forth, back and forth until it’s time for class. Once he’s back in the hall, he knocks quietly on the door next to his, “Julius?” Then he knocks louder, “Julius open up.”

“He won’t answer,” Mary’s voice says behind him.

“Why?” He asks, more than a little done with the day already.

She shrugs, “I’ve been trying all morning. Either he’s not home or…” she shrugs again.

“Or what, Mary?”

“Or I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” He asks disbelievingly.

“Just come on,” she said, taking his arm in her hands, “let’s walk to class together. I’m sure he’s already there.”

But he wasn’t there, and he never came. Not that day or the day after or the day after.