Wrong Side Of The Bed

36 | if you'll have me, i'm yours.

"Oh, I am going to play some recreational soccer today," Lucas sighed audibly, a pleased expression glossing over his face.

"This car is a babe," Neil commented as he ran a hand over the windowsill of the car. "This one has a two-point-zero litre four-cylinder, right? What's the fuel tank capacity? Fifty-seven litres?"

"I," Lucas said. "Understood not a single word of that sentence."

Neil sighed, rubbing his hands together as he began explaining. "If a four-cylinder engine is described as a two-point-zero litre, this means each piston can compress roughly five-hundred cc of fuel and air into the combustion chamber every revolution the engine turns."

"That's how an engine works?" I asked, bewildered. "What the fuck? It's simple physics?"

"Of course, it's simple physics, Sinclair," Walter scoffed. "Did you think cars run on magic?"

"Oh my God," Adrienne sighed. "I'm surrounded by nerds."

"I'm not a nerd!" Lucas protested. "I'm a cool jock."

I rested my gaze on my best friend who was lying through his teeth right now. "Oh yeah? Lucas, what's your favourite mathematical constant?"

"What the hell does that even mean?" I heard Estelle whisper to Adrienne. Adrienne whispered back almost instantly. "How would I know? I haven't done maths in two years, Este."

Lucas swallowed thickly. The gates of the garage were opened and he quietly eased the car into the garage. But that wasn't the main point — was he going to answer his favourite question or was he going to let his cool jock image persist? In the end, he did as I thought. "My favourite mathematical constant is Euler's number."

"That's what I thought."

"Wow," Adrienne said. "We are all nerds here."

"I'm not a nerd," Estelle offered her thoughts, her smile innocent. "I don't know cooking, don't know cars, don't know fashion, don't know Science or Maths or English or Business. I'm just vibing here in between my flowers and want for sustainable development."
 
Walter turned towards Estelle, her smile feline. "Are you sure you're not nerdy about anything, Este? Okay then, I'll keep believing that violets are the most insignificant of all flowers."

Estelle's mouth twitched. "You are doing that to rile me up, Jannat, right?"

"No, I am not," Walter replied, feigning innocence. "I truly think violets are insignificant."

"How can you even say that?" Estelle said, gasping. She was clearly offended as she leaned forward, turning her face completely towards Walter. "Violets are a symbol of lesbian love, going back to ancient Greece! Sappho described her female lover wearing violets, and the symbolism grew — booming the most in the nineteen twenties when a Broadway play showed two women—" She clamped her mouth shut as a big grin blossomed on Walter's face. "Oh. You knew it already. I had told you, hadn't I? You baited me."

"She knows too much about botanical lore," Adrienne added, her eyes brimming with pride as she stared at her best friend. "It's very interesting."

"I want to hear the rest of the significance of violets," I said as we entered the foyer. And oh God. This place was straight out of some bloody fairytale. 

"I do too," Neil murmured. Lucas nodded in agreement absent-mindedly as he assessed the interiors of the place. 

"Well then, you guys can settle in, and do whatever you wish," Walter said, with a smile on her face and a little clap. "Make yourself at home, guys."

And at home, we made ourselves. We took our sweet time exploring the place. Done largely in a vintage style – this place was extravagant and a lot like Walter, and I had a fleeting suspicion that Walter grew up modeling her Baba’s tastes in architecture – because you could add Walter’s bedroom to this place and no one would be able to tell it apart. The vintage space reflected a soft romantic charm with crown molding and with pink and pale-yellow walls. It reminded me of the places described so well in the regency novels I read, with off-white wainscoting and elaborate wood furniture carved with all of the artist’s love. The hallways were filled with tasteful paintings, and the mirrors hung around had a skilled artist’s touch in the delicate metalwork encased around it. I caught Walter checking herself out in the mirrors quite a few times. I caught her looking at me through the mirror’s reflections even more times.