FOOTSTEPS THUNDERED BEHIND ME LIKE fat, angry, drops of rain or something equally as comparable. I didn't even want to know who it was.
"Lenny, slow down."
I picked up my pace, sneakers hitting the pavement as I tried to get as far away as I could as soon as possible. Colin could've easily ignored me. He was supposed to ignore me. That was the whole point of turning him down. I guess he didn't understand that.
I should've known he wouldn't after I saw that smile of his. It was a clear hint that he was going to do something, and I should've braced myself for whatever that something was.
Nash caught up with me, stopping me with a hand on my shoulder. Of course he did. I was barely "in shape", and even if I was, I'd bet my entire tuition that he'd beat me in a race, even after I got a headstart. That's how unfit I was.
Not that it mattered.
"What the hell was that?" At least he was breathing hard so I knew he wasn't superhuman. We'd come a fair distance from the café, and Lord did I never want to return there, ever. "Some guy shows up after you tell me there's nothing up with you, and then you storm out, expecting me to believe that? C'mon, Len, I'm not an idiot." He'd thrown the nickname so casually into the conversation that I had no choice but to pretend to be okay with it and not steer us off topic.
"Are you sure about that?" I muttered coldly, keeping my eyes on him to witness the effect of my words first-hand. A pained expression took over his face and he flinched backwards. My eyes went wide. "Shit, sorry. I didn't mean-"
"It's fine. You're upset. I get that."
But you don't, do you? Keeping mute, I settled for a brief nod, clutching the front of my jacket with a tight fist. All that annoyance had to be let out somehow, and I was far above punching people just for the hell of it.
Okay, maybe I wasn't so far above it, but I couldn't afford to accidentally break a bone or dislocate anything.
"Lenny?"
I let out a steady breath. It too way too much effort to keep my calm. I wanted-no, needed-to scream at something. At someone. It didn't matter who, or what; I just needed an outlet.
"I have to go."
"Lenny-"
God, what the hell? Do I not deserve a bit of peace and solitude? "Look, Odin, today has been the most shitty day of my entire life, unless you count the actual shitty days, of course, but still. I'm so fucking exhausted, and I know you think you're helping, but you're really not, so drop it, and let me leave." I shot him a pointed look to emphasize my point, but apparently the fucking universe wasn't done shitting with me, because the little fucker-thankfully-released my shoulder, smiled, and said, "You probably need to get it off your chest. We can go somewhere if you want, but I'm not leaving you by yourself."
And I said, "I'm pretty sure my first statement was clear enough. I want to think, not go running around in a field of daisies in a childish attempt to avoid reality."
He sighed and clamped his eyes shut. "We're not getting anywhere like this."
I crossed my arms and scoffed. "There's nowhere to get. There's no getting to be done. I want out of this whole day. You want to shove me in a vehicle and take me to some unknown location. I have an assignment to finish, a call to make, a friend to apologise to, a person to set things straight with-"
"And whose fault is all of that?" He lifted his shoulders nonchalantly, even though his behaviour and words were anything but. I was honestly so confused about the whole ordeal. Here I was, giving him a perfectly good opportunity to not get himself tangled up in my mess, because, you know, sonder and all that, and he wasn't taking it. What person would do that? "Tell me, if you'd been at least a little lenient with yourself, would you have to set so many things straight?"
Holy fucking shit fuck, the fucker was fucking challenging me and I didn't have words to throw at him. I was utterly gobsmacked, floored, gutted, flabbergasted, whatever-ed.
It pained me to accept defeat, to acknowledge that he, had "bested me" and managed to call me out so very violently, but I did it anyway and somehow delivered my next words with a cool kind of calm only I could manage. "I am not going to stand here and allow you to make a mockery of me and my methods so publicly, Odinox. Have a pleasant rest of your day, and please, don't bother texting me."
Nash had finally had enough. "Fine, Lenny. Fine. If that's what you want, I'll lay off for a while. Just ... don't do anything too crazy."
With a small nod and barely another look in his direction, I started on my way, speed walking down the pavement and around a corner until I was certain he could no longer see me. My clothes felt heavier. My head weighed a ton. My heart? Wait, let me rephrase that-my blood pumping organ was doing its job of pumping blood, but something was off.
A choked sob escaped my parted lips. The sound was like a punch to the gut, which wouldn't have been half as bad as the truth. I hurried to nearest visible bench and hugged my knees up to my chest and cried, and I didn't even fucking know why.
• • •
FOR ONE THING, NASH DID text me later that day. I couldn't be bothered to reply at the time. CJ left a Post-It note saying she'd be back the next morning, and I was bored out of my mind. I guess I got what I wanted; thinking space, breathing space, and it sucked ass.
It hurt so much knowing that he was right.
Colin texted, too, to apologise. Seemingly, that was my limit. I picked up my cellphone and typed out my phone number, biting my lip and wondering whether I was making the right decision by sending it.
I did it anyway. The solitude was driving me nuts. Now it was all up to him to do whatever he wished with it. If he had the sense to do the right thing, he wouldn't use that number, at least not yet. But how many times since we'd met had he done the right thing?
At some point between ten-thirty and eleven p.m., I got a call I hoped was the call I was expecting.
"Hey." I was immediately flooded with relief.
"Hi."
"Is everything okay?"
Dishonesty got me this far... "No." I sighed into the phone, clutching my head pillow tighter. I'd been in bed for so many hours it had to be unhealthy. "I'm sorry, by the way. About this, and ... about earlier today."
"Lenny," I heard a bit of creaking in the background, "I don't think you should be apologizing. At least, not to me." He paused. "Did you clear your head?"
"Um, no. Not exactly. I haven't talked to anyone in hours. I broke down on some random bench on my way home, and it's all..." My fault? CJ's? My mom's? August's? ... Nash's?
"Don't blame yourself." Right. I blame you, Colin, anyone. "What about CJ?"
"CJ Murphy is currently avoiding me for reasons privy to her and I frankly could not give less of a fuck about that." He laughed. "I'm also starving."
"I was just about to go grab dinner," he said. I knew he was lying. People didn't just go grab dinner at eleven at night. "I could get you something if you want? Or would you rather meet me there?"
I looked down at my pathetic feet. I was in mismatched socks, an old jumper, and a pair of joggers, and to top it all off, my hair had sort of ... shrunk. I would've declined altogether but my traitor of a stomach wanted other things.
"You could come here if it's not too much trouble." Oh, fuck, what am I doing? "What are you getting?"
"Nothing too out there. I was thinking spaghetti, but it's late so they might be closed."
I snorted. "Spaghetti? Why would anyone want spaghetti? It's so not comfort food material."
"Oh." There was an edge to his voice. I heard the sound of a door being shut, followed by the sound of muffled voices. He was leaving his people to come here, for me. What. What. What the actual fuck ohmygodohmygodohmygod Lenny Harlow, pull your fucking act together or else. "Any suggestions?"
"Nope, spaghetti's fine."
"Awesome. See you in thirty."
"Yeah, sure. Hayden Hall, third floor. It's a bit of a walk, but you definitely won't miss it. It's the saddest room in the entire building." My self deprecating jokes were getting unfunny.
"Riiight."
And thus I was tossed headfirst into the silence, left to cater to myself, by myself, for myself? Hm. Not so much. Anyway, I had thirty minutes, tops, to make myself look presentable, and I intended to sit through those thirty minutes, my ass planted firmly in this bubble of self-pity I'd so carefully crafted for myself. Why let all that effort go to waste?
But one thing kept nagging at me. Why was Nash so ... available? So willing to drop all of his shit and come running-using that phrase very loosely here-when I so much as made the slightest sound?
Speaking of the devil, Nash arrived exactly twenty-three minutes after he hung up. Talk about punctuality. I mean, it was nighttime, and pretty much no one was going to walk into some diner to order spaghetti, but it was still very punctual of him. If it were me, I'd have waited at least an extra ten minutes just loitering because I didn't want to seem desperate or clingy or-
Maybe this was how friendships were meant to work.
Plastering an award winning smile on my face, I threw the door open to reveal a man in wet clothes.
"What happened to you?" I asked, sidestepping to let him in. I didn't comment on how he'd found my room with apparently no trouble. I didn't even think twice about the fact that HE WAS STANDING IN MY DORM ROOM SO LATE AT NIGHT, or about how we were alone, or about how red in the face my mom would go if she knew about this. Like, yeah, she might be black and all, but she somehow got her face to turn full on-ketchup? beet?-red whenever she was mad.
He jabbed his thumb in the direction of the door. "Rain."
Of course.
"It's raining?" I shut the door and switched on a light. The curtains were drawn, but when I neared a window, I could hear the sound of thunder rumbling in the distance. "Oh."
"Yes, oh." Nash dropped a paper bag on my assignment desk and shook off the same olive green windbreaker he'd worn to the pool the other day and hung it on the back of a chair. He then turned the chair at a 167 degree angle and sat in it-the wrong way-facing me. "So, I'm here. Do you feel better?"
He seemed to catch himself.
"Not that I'm insinuating that my presence makes you feel better," he blurted, eyes wide, "I just ... you know what I mean."
I did, all right, but I liked watching him squirm. "No." I leaned back into the wall. "I don't think I do."
He took a deep breath. "You're deflecting."
"I told you not to text me," I said carefully. "You went against that, and here you are. You dug this hole for yourself, Nash, you're going to have to make use of it. Lie in it or whatever, I don't care what you do."
He arched a brow. Wow. I knew I wasn't making sense, but he didn't have to be so expressive about it. On a different note, I was back to calling him by his very detested first name, so maybe that's what the look was about.
"Okay, okay. I texted you, you left me on read for hours-"
"You're not allowed to blame me for that."
"I'm not. Just wait," he said. "So, that happened, and out of nowhere, with absolutely zero context, you send me your phone number?"
I shrugged. "I said not to text me. I never said I didn't want to talk to you." Trust me to have something to say. But ironically, despite my smart mouth and excess wit, I had nothing more to say. He'd barely been here ten minutes and I'd already run out of words. "Do you want to eat yet?"
Apparently he'd forgotten all about the spaghetti. It was so obvious the dinner thing was an elaborate lie. I wasn't sure how to feel about that, but I knew for a fact that the answer would come to me while I was stuffing my face with pasta.
"Actually..." Here it came. "They only had enough for one serving." Oh, come on, Nash. Surely you can do better than that. "I figured you'd need it more, what, with your, uh, stress eating situation."
Rude. I stretched out my hands and he passed me the bag, eventually deciding to sit on my bed. It was about time.
"Thanks," I said flatly, referencing his dig at my stress eating situation. "About everything, I think you should know that I suck at um, opening up and stuff. I'm trying my best, I promise, but if it starts to feel like a chore, please let me know." I couldn't have him just up and leave. Imagine that. Just when you think you're getting somewhere, they leave you wondering where you went wrong, and if you're like me, well, you know; there could be quite a lot of possible points you went wrong.
I liked having him next to me. I liked the warmth, the feel of another person pressed up to me, shoulder to shoulder, that kind of thing. It reminded me of what I had, and I had to admit that that blowed. I didn't want to think about August ever again.
Nash let me eat in silence, which was the complete opposite of what I'd wanted to do. I could talk a marathon while eating. I was the textbook definition of distracted eater-and stress eater, if you will-but maybe I wasn't clear enough on that.
"Do you have a thing for the quiet?" I asked mid-meal. "Does it fuel you, or something? Is it a mood regulator? You like to take things calm and slow?" Again, not making sense, but by the look on his face, I assumed he was happy enough that I was actually saying words.
"I just do what I figure is most convenient for whomever I'm around," he told me. "With my friends, roommates, I can get pretty ... guy-like."
Oh. So this was what sonder was truly about.
"I was starting to wonder if you did anything other than fuss over people and work."
He shrugged. "I guess it can come off that way. There are twenty-four hours in a day, Lenny. It's all about how you spend those hours. Also, I don't get a lot of sleep, so that gives me more time to spend with friends or catch up on schoolwork."
Wow, he was still talking. "Ah. Nice. I wish I was as productive as you sound right now. My life would be way better."
Finally, finally, he seemed at a loss for words. I was the Ultimate Champion of Conversation Killers, and it fucking rocked to be good at something not many people excelled at.
I finished off the last of the spaghetti-yes, the very last of it-and put the takeaway safely aside and out of sight. My stomach was full. I could talk all night.
"About your roommate? CJ? Have you figured out what the problem might be?"
That was an easy enough kick-off point. I didn't even know what I did to her. All I could recall was the lashing out thing, and me staying out later than intended when I went to get her kimchee, and maybe scolding her for spending wastefully was overstepping it a little. I wasn't her mother. I didn't deserve to scold her. But it was my money. My parents' hard earned money. Fuck if I'd let it go down the drain and not say a word about it.
"She's mad at me for yelling at her," I told him, bending forward to touch my toes. It didn't help that I'd just eaten and my food threatened to climb back up my throat to say hello. "When you and I got matched, I kinda flipped out on her over it because I didn't want to swipe right on anyone. I only got the app so I could test it for Carter, the friend who developed it."
"But you didn't swipe right on my profile," he so helpfully pointed out.
"Exactly. I basically yelled down your ear about it. You must've been thrilled when you got the notification." I rolled my eyes. "So I said a few things and walked out on her, went to the fountain, and guess who I ran into?"
"Me?"
"Ding, ding, ding!" I laughed. "Okay, but seriously, I think I overdid it a little. I have tried apologising, but she's so thickheaded sometimes, she won't even listen to me. How am I supposed to work with that?"
He held up a hand, gesturing that I wait. I waited. "To get it out of the way, I was thrilled when I got the notification. I was pretty ecstatic when I came across your profile, but the whole match thing was unexpected. I don't even understand how dating apps work. Do they have a rubric? Are they secretly run by Aphrodite and Eros?"
The thunder was getting louder. "Good to know one of us was excited about the match," I said. It didn't feel right sitting here and talking about how a dating application had decided our fate. What if we wanted different things? What was the criterion for matching? Was Piper behind this?
I turned my head to face him. "Why did you create an account, anyway?"
He shrugged. "I don't know. It's one of the things I do. I have an account on pretty much every social media application in existence, and when I heard this was designed by a student who goes here, I couldn't not support it."
"And then you made a profile."
"I wasn't going to let my money go to waste, Len." There was that awful nickname again. He stretched his legs out in front of him and bit down on his lip. He was holding back a yawn. The sight was, unfortunately, adorable as heck. "You didn't have to text me if you didn't want to, so I'm going out on a limb here to say that you wanted to get to know the person you matched with."
I waved him off. "I matched with tons of people." And it was true, and it was scary that I was deemed compatible by the gods of all things love and relationships with a bunch of other people, but I would say the difference between this and whatever else this would be if it were with someone else is that ... they would never be him.
What in the hell?
Whatinthehellwhatinthehellwhatintheabsolutefuckinghellfuck! No, what the fuck? I had to shut down my thinking organ immediately. God, I hated staying up past eleven. Every time I did my stupid brain ended up thinking thoughts too illogical for me to ever agree with, which was very ironic because those thoughts were thought up by the same part of me that disagreed with them.
"And how many of their profiles did you swipe right on?" He was poking his nose in my business. "How many of them did you strike up conversations with?"
"I am exhausted," I said, steering us off topic. Hopefully, we would stay off topic. "I want to sleep." I glanced down at the non-existent space between us. Good Lord, when on earth did we get this close? "You're not going to head back in this weather, are you?"
I figured I sounded like I was propositioning something, but I'd learned from my mistakes to never do that, so even if he thought I was, I would shut down the idea before it had a chance to fester in his not stupid brain.
A strike of lightning broke through the night sky, crackling with extreme dramatics, followed by the fucking loudest rumble of thunder I'd ever heard. It sounded like ... a gunshot. No, no; a missile, a bomb. Something very dangerous and deadly.
"Definitely not in this weather." I swear I saw him flinch. "This is the kind of stuff that kills people." He reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a cellphone. "I'll just let my mates know that I won't be coming back tonight and then we can"-he cut his eyes to me me-"figure out a sleeping arrangement."
Now, that was definitely suggestive. NOT that I was thinking anything my parents would shun. Nope, absolutely not. No, no, no, no. No.
I got off the bed to toss the takeaway in the hallway bin, and when I got back, Nash was nowhere to be seen, and my bed was completely creaseless.
"Odin?" I called, nearing the bathroom door. One of the perks of being in Hayden Hall and on the third floor was having a single roommate and a private bathroom. Of course, you couldn't always be sure how well you'd get along with said roommate, but there was also the choice to switch rooms. It usually took about a month or two, but then administration would put you in one of the better rooms-the ones with two separate bedrooms big enough to be a one-person dorm. "Seriously?" I nudged the door open and peeked in. He was standing by the toilet, staring like a deer caught in headlights at the door-at me-finger on the flusher. A bubble of laughter crept up my throat. "Oh my God. What are you ... What are you doing in here?"
"I was making a phone call," he said slowly, "and I got curious about the door and wanted to see what was behind it." He wiped his hands on his trousers. I doubted his cellphone was even on him. "You know, it's warmer in here."
I didn't know whether or not to go in, so I stayed at the door. "You want to sleep in the shower?"
"I was thinking the sink would be a better option."
"I'll make sure it's as comfortable as possible. Might want to tuck your legs in a bit, though. I heard sleep paralysis demons have a thing for feet."
The reality of the situation hit me so hard I was surprised I didn't fall forward and break my teeth on the tiles. Nash was in my bathroom at midnight, I had no idea if CJ was even alive, and it was raining so he couldn't leave, and there was obviously no way I was letting him sleep in CJ's bed. As far as I was concerned, they were total strangers. But there was also no way we could ... share a bed. Oh, God.
Nash washed his hands. I watched his movements, frozen in place. How had it come to this? I couldn't help but blame it all on Piper.
"Are you having a stroke?"
I might as well have been. "No." I rubbed my wrists simultaneously, flexing them as I did. It took everything for me to not look at him. "Let's just go to sleep. I'll take CJ's bed."
So, that was out of the way, thank God.
"Do you shower before bed?" he asked, pushing past me to get into the room. "I usually do, but ..."
"Yeah, but. Leave it at that. It's too cold for a shower, and I can't guarantee we'll get any hot water right now." I jabbed my index finger at him. "Go. To. Sleep, Odin. Seriously. Please. Today has been so exhausting for the both of us, and I think a nap is in order. You've had to put up with me for more than an hour." That was more than I could say about my brother, who, by obligation and family ties and whatnot, should spend time with me, but, hey, you win some, you lose some. "You deserve the rest."
He paused at the foot of my bed, slowly lowering himself onto it like he was afraid he'd mess it up again. "I don't think I've ever had a person who wasn't my mom beg me to go to sleep before." A sigh followed. "Fine. Can you get me a blanket or something? I don't want to get up again."
"Sure." I pulled the bathroom door closed and headed for one of two wooden almost ceiling-length wardrobes. The topmost area was empty; neither one of us could reach it, and we were both opposed to getting a step ladder just for that sake. Pulling one of the drawers open, I grabbed a pair of pyjamas and a spare blanket. There was no way I was going to sleep in my sad day outfit. "You sure you'll be comfortable like that?" I chucked the neatly folded blanket at his chest and he caught it, the corner of his lips tugging up.
"Absolutely."
"Fine." I made for the bed to retrieve my blanket, fighting back an unwanted yawn. I didn't know crying took so much energy. "Goodnight."
He blinked. I stood to the side, clutching a blanket and my phone to my chest. "Goodnight."
Making a conscious effort to ignore his gaze, I trudged back into the bathroom to change, crossing my fingers in hopes that CJ didn't return until way later.
I took down "Six and A Half Good Nights" because, you know, a six-chapter short story wasn't going to do Queen Eaton any justice. I'm not even sure how comfortable I am with having my works on here because of the whole "mirror site" situation. I'd never actually come across my stuff on any other sites, but then I entered "iMeet Cute" into the Google search bar and all those sites came up even before Wattpad did. (Of course, this is staying here. I wouldn't have it any other way.) Other stuff I plan on publishing ~ someday ~ won't be coming on here for obvious reasons, but I do hope I'll be able to publish this other thing I haven't started working on-
Anyway! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and if you did, don't forget to leave a vote!
Until next week,
- angel ☆