If Finding Love Was Easy

COMPANIONS OF LOCATION

Word had spread quickly of my jaw-dropping performance rivaling the humiliating shame of the bonfire party

Suddenly I wasn't just the suicidal gay guy who “assaulted” the school's most valuable soccer player.

I was the suicidal gay guy who sang and played the piano like a professional showman. And let's not forget, the kid accosted their most valuable player.

I didn't think or expect a single performance would turn their hearts around in my favor.

Nor did I care about what they thought of me, but there was a new respect hovering on the lips of those who said my name.

All I wanted to do was to forget that night from two years ago and especially the morning after. It was detrimental to my stable state of mind that I do so.

Luckily enough Ambrose was big enough and provided its students with a hectic course load that I hadn't crossed paths with any of the hostile sixth years.

So it was all about registering for my courses and locating the lecture halls for them in the labyrinth campus of the school.

Gideon, now frequenting my room, was somehow convinced that Preston, my other third year roommate was a religious prude.

And so made it his goal to be as obscenely vulgar as possible whenever he came to my room and Preston was around.

Much to my annoyance and Nassif's amusement.

Seeing how difficult it had been for me to make friends in my own year, I wasn't looking to rock the boat with my roommates in anyway.

Which I explained to Gideon to keep his "hostile approach of friendship" to a minimum.

So now I had to deal with the constant badgering from Gideon who rarely sat with Ian and crew at mealtimes.

Not that I wasn't pleased that he came to my table to talk, even if Mona glared at him the entire time.

Then I had asked him why he had began to distance himself from his idol, Ian. He would be popular and part of the school's celebrity gangs like Shannon's, if he stuck with them.

“Ian and I had a fight. I punched him in the face on our way back from service on Sunday. He said some things about you.”

Mona shared a look with me. “I’ve been very stupid about this entire thing. You're my brother, we've been best friends since forever and we've always had each other's backs. I’m sorry I forgot that at the bonfire and since we resumed.”

Wow! “So you aren't going to hang with the douche crew?” Mona asked using her term for Ian and his egotistic friends.

Gideon only shrugged. “I don't care.” And he nudged me in the arm. “You're my friend before I was theirs.”

Yet a few days later, he was sitting with them and laughing at Robbie’s jokes.

But he nonetheless didn't fail to come up to my room and hang out even if it was just me reading a novel and him conversing with my roommates.

Classes were as tiring and draining as I remembered, made even worse by Ian being in my class and finding any available time to throw jibes my way.

He was the most popular guy in class even if he bordered on average in academics.

I devised any means to escape from my class of preening admirers and oh-yes members who echoed everything Ian did.

Afternoon preps I went to the library, getting the peace of mind to organize my study timetable with my coursework.

Night preps, I sat with Mona as she helped me handle my Math and Physics problems.

I grasped Math quick enough but Physics was the tougher nut to crack. Maybe because I was already on the hateful side of our Physics teacher Mr. Justice.

Throughout the first week, he made it a regular thing to stand me out in class to grill me in questions.

He knew I'd been absent in any real schoolwork for the last couple years yet he ridiculed my intellect at every turn.

Ian and his swarms of worshippers took field days on those moments. But he had naught to say in the rest of our curriculum.

I was resplendent in my aptitude for Chemistry and Biology, earning class aide status to the latter, English and History I was as much star in as I used to be in my junior years here.

Even Econ and Business Studies which Ian seemed to be quite above average in, he had to deal with me following close behind.

Mona found our argumentative discussion on topics, too entertaining and amusing whenever my point of view gained more acceptance from our teachers than Ian's.

Today at brunch, my fingers pushed the second croissant between my lips, and my throat swallowed.

I drank from the delicious orange juice but kept my face hidden in the textbook of European History which I was determined to finish at least three chapters before next week.

I sat secluded to a corner of the refectory, away from my classmates and other fourth years. Mona had said she would miss brunch so I could have her juice and croissant.

There had been a reason I had my brunches, away from much of the student body especially whenever Mona was absent and Gideon was obscured away.

It was because the one time I had sat with a bunch of my more friendly classmates, had been the first time I had seen Kylian Fitzroy since the bonfire party.

I knew he had been the person to dissuade Lucas from beating me up. And I didn't know whether to thank him for helping.

Him and his bevy of loud fifth year friends had taken the entire back of the upstairs refectory. He had seemed separate from his friends' conversation and jokes, but still centered around them.

That was before he left them and began to circulate the tables.

It didn't matter if he knew the students he interrupted or not, they were poisoned by his charisma.

In the huge dining hall, his looks shone like a flame, vital and bright, drawing my eye against my will.

His mouth was a plump bow, his nose an aristocratic arrow.

When he sat, his limbs didn't skew as most people's did, but arranged themselves with perfect grace.

Perhaps the most remarkable aspect was his obliviousness about how infective his presence was to those around him.

Kylian didn't preen as other handsome guys at school did.

Indeed, he seemed utterly unaware of his effect on everyone around him; how they seemed to suddenly feel the sunshine when he laughed with them, how his talk on the ludicrity of large knotted ties made his listeners replicate his own unruly knitting styles.

Though how he was, I could not imagine: the juniors and even sixth years crowded him like dogs in their eagerness, tongues lolling for a taste at this rising prince of Ambrose.

I had watched all of this from my place at the corner table, pastry crumpled in my fist. The keen edge of my envy was like flint, a spark away from fire.

On that day he had sat closer to my table with just one table away.

His Oxfords scuffed against the bench as he ate, sitting on the table and facing me.

They were not chipped and dusty as a few other students’ were, but as black as his hair and polished as his manners.

Then he turned, as if he had heard my grumbles of derision for disrupting my break with his fanfare.

For a second our eyes held, and I felt a shock run through me.

I had jerked my gaze away, and busied myself with trying to finish my food and concentrate on the reading material for Sociology class which I'd been reading the same page for the past five minutes.

My cheeks had flushed hot, and my skin prickled as if before a storm.

When, at last, I had ventured to look up again, he had turned back to his table and was speaking to the other students.

After that I had gone to explore the opposite end of the hall and managed to convince the refectory staff to let me stay here for brunch breaks.

"Hey, I didn't think anyone came down here?"

I pulled down the history textbook and looked up from highlighting a paragraph and saw a robust boy with complexion a few shades darker than mine.

He was what most people would declare as edgy with his fine-boned wrists accentuated by fistfuls of tinkling chain and leather bracelets.

His hair was locked in shoulder length dreads which he tied back from his face, a few strands braided in African beads at his temples.

The sight of him sent an odd sense of intrigue and affiliation towards him.

"I'm in your Comparative Literature class as well as five other science fourth years." He said with a cheeky smile even as his friend walked to grab their brunch packs from their tables.

I returned his smile, remembering him from Literature class.

"I recall you putting up that entire argument that cost us a project."

He laughed and reached out a hand to me, bracelets jingling.

"I'm Akachukwu but you can call me Aka. Do you mind if we barge in on your space?"

I took him hand, shaking it and responding friendly. "Alec, and it's a free world. I'm already half dead from taking all this in.”

I chuckled as I tapped a finger on my textbook which he took a garner at as he slid in the opposite seats.

"Please tell me, that isn't for the Shakespeare assignment?"

I chuckled, sipping from my glass of juice and shaking my head.

"No, no. It's just some extra reading I’m doing for History."

Aka blinked incredulously at me. "Wow that's kind of intimidating."

I arched a brow, shifting on the stool. "How so? It's not a big deal."

"I beg to differ. You're a whole two years out of truly academic work yet you've definitely caught up on almost everything and giving the rest of us a run for our tuition."

I shrugged. I remembered how embarrassed I had been walking into most of my lectures that first Monday and finding out I had a lot to catch up on.

And my teachers, take Mr. Justice for one, had made it a habit to single me out for questions I'd had no idea how to deliver answers to.

Dad would say it was the moment to prove that I was deserving of the opportunity of coming back.

And f**k if I did not prove myself worthy at the end of the week.

It had taken me several all-nighters in the dorm's common room to get caught up, judicious prep time at the library and Mona's invaluable help.

This week had redeemed me in the eyes of my most judging teachers. Though Justice was unbending.

Aka's friend can towards us, hands tucked in the pockets of her jacket as she wistfully chewed gum. I wondered where she got it, candy was a contraband.

She was tall, nearing over my five foot eight, slender yet curvy in her pleated skirts and white hose. She was the vision of a stunning supermodel and reminded me of someone I very much didn't want to think about.

"Hey what did you get?" Aka asked, eyeing the tray she carried and placed on the table.

"Doughnuts for you and beignets for me, like we agreed." And her chocolate brown eyes flicked to me. "Hey, what's up?"

"Naomi, this is Alec. We're both in Silver class." Aka introduced as he grabbed one of two doughnuts from the tray and ate.

Naomi nodded at me in acknowledgment. “I know who he is, i***t. Everyone does.”

I winced internally at her words. Of course everyone knew about the gay pianist.

But Naomi leaned forward with glazed eyes. "You killed that performance on Sunday. I can't believe you didn't do an encore."

"Naomi's into the musical arts. She wants to go to a theater school after graduation.” Aka informed with a roll of his eyes but I could hear the pride in his tone.

“And what's so wrong about that?” I countered to Naomi's appreciation.

He gave a mischievous chortle, "Nothing, really. For me I'll be going into Freeloading mechanics." Which I laughed to but Naomi slapped him upside the head.

"Don't listen to a word that comes out of his mouth. He's excellent in Technical Drawing class and Visual Arts; he's just laid back to a fault that I think it's a disorder."

Aka shrugged and argued. "It's the f*****g first term and we're fourth years. This is the first time we're free and as faraway from teacher supervision; no better than to have the best fun of our lives, you dig?"

I definitely did not dig. If I started on nonchalance then who knows what irreparable damage it would have on the rest of my school records.

I planned on graduating as fast as possible and with as much credentials to flee this country.

Naomi rolled her eyes and asked me. "So what are you doing for next Sunday? I've heard a dozen other people guessing if you would play again.”

I would say that had both my eyebrows shooting so far up they could've hidden in my hair.

"What, uh… I don't know. I thought that was only for first Sundays of the year?”

"Dude, ever since we got the Prime Minister here last year and he loved the after special show, the principal's mandated it." Aka responded biting into his second doughnut, sugar spraying over his upper lip.

The Prime Minister came to Saint-Ambrose? Talk about high standards.

“Would you please eat like a sane human being raised you?” Naomi shook her head as she brushed off sugar dust from her sleeves.

She looked to me. “And I bet Ms. Diaz would want you to be a regular; most people just want to skip and ditch the after service announcements, some even ditch the service entirely. Has she asked you about the Christmas Carol yet?”

I nodded, remembering the reason she had asked Mona and I to wait back on Sunday.

“You're right, she has but only for the Carol and that's still months away. I haven't even decided on doing it.”

“Why wouldn't you?”

I shrugged. “School work is really hard and I want to have my grades up. And I'm easily distracted by the music thing.”

“Well at least give us something on Sunday. I swear your song was like a drug fix in my dorm, you couldn't walk a few steps without hearing someone humming to it.” Naomi quipped.

We left the refectory just as the bell for the end of brunch break resounded throughout the school.

I hadn't finished reading but I was somewhat relieved in finding friendship with these two.

On our walk back to the classroom building, Aka proved himself a clown with his boisterous jokes that had me clutching my stomach in laughter as we walked down.

Naomi followed him into the classroom assigned to Fourth Silver, waving and calling out that we'd talk later.

When I got to back to my dorm room, Preston had his friend Bryant playing Uno cards.

I didn't think I would feel suddenly pissed at the horrendous scattering of clothes and book bags all over the room.

I'd totally been negligent in making my junior roommates keep a tidy room.

"When you're done, why don’t you clean this all up. You have a wardrobe for your stuff and you keep tracking in sand.”

I stopped before I went all psychotic neat freak on him and added that to my reputation.

I changed into quickly into sportswear of sweatpants and the Tudor Hall sport tank top.

I took a few books from my wardrobe and left for an early start on afternoon, though I'd have to sneak out to not get caught by Callous for missing siesta.

~?~

Kylian was hitting balls that was being shot at him from the tennis ball launcher inside the gated court.

With a toss of his wrist, he flicked and batted the balls with the racket; one, two, three, each of them racing to him at incredible speed.

But each time his racket hit them back efficiently.

Sports came as one of the most important criteria in Saint-Ambrose.

The school provided a wide range of sport activities for the students to dabble and excel in. But of course soccer was the first and foremost of them all.

Each dormitory was allowed to have their individual teams for the annual inter-house sports in the spring.

Saint-Ambrose selected their own star team from the pool of the best players of each dormitory.

So every student worth their salt in the sport always tried for their dorm teams at the start of the year.

I sat with Mona on the pavilion and watched with a few others who weren’t participating in tryouts or anything else.

Yet the drills the coaches ordered their dorm students to engage in, held not much amusement.

Not even when Ian took a mouthful of pitch grass.

Mona laughed heartily at the sight but my attention was turned to the tennis court adjacent to the centralized soccer field.

Now Kylian, whom I had been expecting to be part of the soccer tryouts, had veered straight for tennis with a few other fifth years and like everything else he made it look easy as s**t.

His friends hooted and clapped. The tennis balls flew, green colors blurring in the air, so fast they seemed not to be visible till Kylian's racket smacked it back.

Then a match between him and a fifth year I recalled was Kevin Arthur, began.

I told Mona I wanted to go by the tennis court and she followed me.

We stood by the sidelines, and when they started and I could hear the strains of each of their maneuvers.

The sounds of their rackets against the balls, the swishing nets and palpable intensity of the sport. It was inspiring to watch them.

They were both well trained and confident but Kylian was the better player. His face lit up as he earned points over Kevin, laughing and jesting.

His gaze, which had been following Kevin's curveball, flickered to mine.

I did not have time to look away before Kylian said, softly but distinctly, "Think fast."

A tennis ball shot from the pattern in a blinding arc towards me.

My eyes widened but I ducked just in time to avoid it bursting my eye out.

“What the f**k?” my voice louder in the ensuing silence of surprise from the spectators.

He smirked and flicked a finger at the ball which had rolled close to my feet after hitting the fence behind me.

I took the ball in hand and squeezed it, feeling its hardness and knowing for sure it would have probably blinded me had I been hit.

I threw the ball with all the anger that realization that brought.

But he simply swiped at it with his racket, resuming his game.

But the next minute he conceded to another player and left the court, though his ardent fans jeered for him to stay but he laughed and departed, taking the winding stairs whose steps went to a section of the pavilion.

I thought he might look at me again. But he didn't.

It took only a minute later before I was walking, giving some benign excuse to Mona who was talking to a fifth year girl, I followed him without suspicion.

"I didn't think you were a sporty kind of guy." With a clear voice, like ice-melted streams.

My head jerked up to direction of his voice and started for the stands in the pavilion.

It was Kylian, sitting over the concrete wall, his legs dangling over.

His face was serious, the pitch of his eyes steady, regarding me as I climbed to join him.

I was not supposed to be there and I knew it, and talking to a guy like him could very well cause more trouble.

"I'm not. I came for my friend's tryout, for moral support." I took a stray look to where Gideon was doing pushups with the other tryouts on the soccer field.

He snorted. "Same problem yet here I am,”

I was quiet again. Why did I always revert back to my introvert self when I was around anyone… intriguing?

"Why did you come?"

I turned to look at him, now clashing my gaze to his dark ones; like tumbling sea tides at night. "I told you, I came with-"

"Not the sports field. Up here, why did you follow me? Don't tell me, it's because you wanted to thank me for saving your life that night?”

He lashed out, he narrowed his eyes even further so that they were like knives on my face.

"What if I was?" I couldn't stop the audacity in my retort. The condescension in his had fired an anger in my guts that needed to be let out.

"Then you're even more an i***t than I'd thought. Go back and leave me the f**k alone, idiot."

And with those words, he mottled my anger and hope into shame that seared a benign flush down to my toes and I scrambled up to my feet and left the pavilion, without a word.

He was right. I was very stupid to have followed him up there.

I had made myself believe, with proofs of the distant eye contact and broken glances I had tried to escape all week from, that maybe he didn't see me like every other of his classmates an we could be friends.

Stupid! f*****g stupid! I wanted to punch myself for that.