yay for weekend update :3 unedited, so you can point out typos for me to fix ^_^
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13 - Drift
Luke Waters
I was re-reading The Catcher in the Rye, lying back against the pillows and she was sitting by my feet with my laptop, unusually silent. I couldn’t really focus though.
I looked at her over the top of the book.
She was scrolling through my photos, biting down on her lip furiously in a way that made me think strange things, her eyebrows knitted together and the other hand stroking Blu absently. It was impossible to decipher her thoughts from her expressions, so I uneasily refocused my gaze on the book.
After a few minutes there was the sound of the laptop being closed. I looked back up at Maya again. She met my gaze immediately.
“Luke, this…”
I waited, but she didn’t say anything more.
“This….what?”
Her expression became unreadable again, a cross between a vicious frown and intense thought.
“Your photos are fucking brilliant.”
I blinked at her for a moment.
“Oh.”
Then we were just looking at each other, and she grinned.
“Luke! I’m serious!”
Then I started grinning too, when what she said registered, because a compliment from one of the most honest people I know really does mean a lot.
And it was a compliment from a beautiful girl, but oh well – I didn’t want to seem like a dork.
“Thanks,” I said, “but I still have a lot to learn.”
She pooh-ed with a wave of her hand.
“Whatever.”
Abruptly her expression became serious.
“Luke, you really have a future in this.”
I clenched my jaw and sat back, trying to focus on the book again.
“Luke.”
“What?”
“Talk to me.”
There was one second of silence in which I stared at the word ‘Phoebe’ in the book blankly, and then I shut it.
“I might have a future in it.”
Her expression became one of consternation, concern, something I didn’t feel I deserved.
“Tell me about your dad, Luke.”
She was saying my name a lot. Tell me, Luke. Talk to me, Luke.
I crossed my arms. “There’s nothing to tell about him.”
“There has to be something.”
My gaze drifted back to her. She was sitting, completely open, arms by her sides with her palms spread wide on the bedspread, eyes wide and shoulders shrugged up, the most open I’d seen her in a long time, and I wondered why she was that way, it was almost as if she was daring me to –
I swallowed.
“Maya, it’s not easy doing something like this, when you thought that someone who would give you all their support turns around like that. And I’m not saying I’m not doing photography. I will. It’s…it’s become like…like…”
I fumbled for words, flailing wildly in my head, but she spared me.
“Like who you are,” she completed quietly, eyes meeting mine, intense but gentle. And I nodded because she was right.
“Like I…I find myself when I do it, it’s just…”
She shuffled forwards, and rested a hand on my knee.
“I understand.”
I looked away from her, because she was suddenly a lot closer, and my hands had a mind of their own – I wanted to reach out – because she was suddenly a lot closer – I wanted to reach out but I didn’t.
She withdrew her hand – it lingered on my knee for one moment too long. It was a small gesture, a gesture a shrink might show towards her patient even, but it was enough to make me so aware of her presence, of her warmth, her faint scent and her breathing, her steady brown gaze.
I was even more aware when she turned and then flopped down beside me against the pillows.
“Life sucks sometimes, Luke.”
I closed my eyes briefly, and I knew that any other time I would’ve agreed with her.
But I couldn’t then. Not when she was inches from me and I wouldn’t have been anywhere else.
“It can.”
“It does, now.”
I frowned. Propping myself up on both elbows and leaning back, I looked down at her. She was flat on her back, hair splayed wildly about her face and her eyes were closed, hands folded on her stomach.
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the mark sheets in my drawer, Luke, and about the SAT textbooks on my shelf, and my tutorials, and my college apps, and physics, and whether I want to do it, whether I even can do it.”
I didn’t say anything for a few seconds. She opened her eyes, finding me with them instantly.
“You can do it,” I told her, not just because. She was smart. Sometimes you can tell, even without seeing someone’s grades, or their essays, but Maya was smart and I could see it. “You can.”
She exhaled heavily.
“Life sucks,” she mumbled again.
A strand of hair fell across her forehead, and my hand twitched. I wanted to brush it away.
I wanted to kiss her.
I wondered how she would react if I did. In that very moment. If I just leaned down, and asked her to open her eyes, and kissed her. More than that, I wondered what it would feel like.
But then she lifted her hand and brushed the hair away impatiently, and sat up.
“Let’s go watch TV or something.”
I nodded.
“Okay.”
*
School days became a comfortable haze of easy conversations with Teagan Russell and slightly more forced ones with Danny, Yohan and Ki – who called me ‘dude’ too often and frequently came to school looking vaguely stoned. I couldn’t actually figure out why Teagan hung out with them, but then I also realized she was a bit of a social, ah, butterfly.
We sat with Sam at lunch, with his friends. Sam and Nick seemed to be close, a regular pairing – Nick was tall and athletic with conventional good looks. Sam’s girlfriend, Meera sat with us too, along with one other girl, an exotic half-Spanish half-Indian, well-endowed specimen called Sofia , and a guy who everyone called Goose, a plumpish, curly haired jolly guy with an affinity for computers and basketball. I never found out his real name. They seemed to be the popular kids, though no social hierarchy seemed to be blatantly evident in the school.
For a while I was the shiny new toy everyone was passing around – like the interest surrounding any exchange student from a new place. A week after school opened, I was walking to my lockers from History (without Teagan, she went to the nurse’s because she wasn’t feeling well) when I was suddenly approached by a slinky, expensive-smelling girl with hair as sharp as razors, a short skirt, spectacular legs and a mean-looking face which most guys in the school found hot.
“You must be Luke,” she said as a preamble.
I already didn’t like her very much.
“Yes,” I accepted.
She blinked for a moment, I would imagine in response to my lack of response to her advances.
“I’m Tarina,” she offered, sticking out a small, well-moisturised and tastefully accessorized hand. I took it.
“Nice to meet you, Tarina.”
Over her bony shoulder I saw a flash of red – Teagan - leaning against a wall, smirking in my direction and watching the exchange as if it was entertainment for her.
“You’re here on exchange from Massachusetts, right?”
Tarina commanded my attention back to her.
“That’s right.”
“How long are you here for?”
She was getting annoying now.
“Four months,” I told her, “almost five.”
She batted her eyelashes at me. Or at least that’s what I think she did, and I could only be thankful Megan had never done that to me; or Maya as a matter of fact. It was some creepy shit.
“That’s enough time.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“For…”
“For me to-“
“Ahem.”
We both jumped when I felt a small hand close around my wrist, and a glimpse of red to my right told me that it was none other than Teagan. Internally, I was falling at her feet, externally I felt a smile slip onto my face.
“Luke, I see you’ve met Tarina.”
Tarina’s face hardened into the ultimate bitch mask.
“Teagan,” she said sharply in acknowledgement.
“Sorry, but I’m going to have to borrow Luke now,” said Teagan from my right, taking a step back.
“Yeah, we, uh, have a thing,” I said lamely, going with her.
Tarina narrowed her eyes.
“Fine. We’ll just finish up some other time.”
“You do that,” Teagan said, and from her voice I could tell she was controlling laughter.
“Goodbye, Luke.”
She stalked off, and then Teagan pulled me in the direction of our lockers, giggling helplessly. I smiled involuntarily, and let her tug on my sleeve.
“Oh my God, I hate her so much it shouldn’t even be funny,” she cackled, opening her locker and putting the books she was holding inside.
“I can see why,” I told her, doing the same.
She shut her locker and then leaned against it, looking at me.
“She was practically shoving her boobs in your face.”
I made a face.
“No she wasn’t.”
She smirked, blue eyes crinkling.
“Wow Luke, you’re so…so…”
I shut my locker and mimicked her position, raising my eyebrow.
“So?”
“Oblivious,” she finished, nodding.
“To what?”
Her smirk grew into an outright grin.
“See what I mean?”
“If you’re talking about female attention….”
She clicked her long fingers loudly.
“Correct! Ten points to Gryffindor.”
For a moment the chatter of the hallway surrounded us and then I smirked at her and she blushed, looking down at her feet, a curtain of red hair falling across her face.
“Why Gryffindor?” I inquired, cocking my head to the side.
She gave a short laugh, and then scuffed her shoe against the tile on the floor.
“Well, either Gryffindor or Ravenclaw really. Definitely not Slytherin though you could pull of the whole Draco-blonde thing but nah. Not Hufflepuff.”
“I don’t have much academic prowess,” I told her, still controlling my smile to the best of my ability, “so Gryffindor it is.”
Teagan looked up finally, grinning at me. “Yeah.”
I grinned back at her.
“How are you feeling, Teagan?”
I’d just remembered that she’d gone to the nurse’s office.
Her expression looked like she’d also just remembered.
“Oh, much better. They have all kinds of freaky medicines here.”
“What happened?” I asked.
She was looking straight at me and then to my surprise her cheeks tinged pink again and she hoisted her bag over her shoulder.
“Just a headache,” she said nonchalantly, straightening up.
I frowned.
“You sure? Do you need anything?”
She smiled.
“I’m fine.”
I nodded, though I wasn’t really convinced.
“Okay.”
We stood in silence for a few seconds, leaning against our lockers and watching the school pass by.
“Luke, I – I, um…”
I turned to look at her, and she was looking straight ahead. But before I could say anything, I heard Sam hollering my name from down the corridor.
“Luke! Luke!”
“Sorry,” I muttered to Teagan, and turned around. Sam was waving at me from the other end, and mouthing time to go! over everyone’s heads.
“You go on,” said Teagan, and I spun around to look at her again.
“But you were saying –“
“It can wait.”
I shrugged, and then slung my bag over one shoulder.
“Alright. See you around, Gun-Gun.”
As expected, she squealed and hit me on the arm, giggling.
“Luke! Don’t call me that!”
It was Goose’s masterpiece of a nickname, and she hated it. I couldn’t help it, I burst out laughing.
“Ouch, Gun-Gun, you’re so abusive.”
She scowled.
“Shut up, Lukie.”
I glared at her.
“No.”
She smiled back sweetly.
“See you around, Lukie.”
And I chuckled.
“See you around, Teagan.”
Maya Sumedh
My phone rang at noon, when I was literally standing in the middle of the kitchen and looking around, wondering what to eat or do or anything. I sprang at it, grateful for the distraction, and noted that it was unknown number calling.
Which meant that it was –
“Hi, Zayn.”
There was a nanosecond of silence.
“I didn’t know you had my number,” said Zayn, sounding surprised on the other end.
I laughed, and perched on the cool granite counter next to Ma’s spice jars.
“It was unknown. And I have the numbers of everyone who might call me. It only left you.”
“I could have been a telemarketer,” he said, and I heard a smile in his voice.
“But you’re not,” I countered.
“But I could have been.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Whatever, Zayn. Why’re you calling anyway?”
“I had your number. I’m bored and sitting in a coffee shop with nothing to do.”
“So I’m just timepass?” I teased.
“Oh no, much more, Maya.”
His voice was teasing, but his words weren’t, and I found myself wondering how to respond to that. But then he filled in the next second.
“Have you gotten around to studying for your exams yet?”
I smiled a little. “How do you know I’ve been procrastinating?”
“Well, I do pay attention when you talk, you know.”
“Right,” I said, laughing. “Well, um, no.”
“What were you doing when I called?”
“Literally?”
He laughed, proper.
“Yes, literally.”
“I was…standing in my kitchen, staring at the walls and the fridge, debating whether to eat or to eat.”
He was silent for a moment and then he burst out laughing.
“I hope my phone call is sufficient distraction.”
“It is,” I told him, as I reached for a jar of Nutella kept a few inches away from me. “Even though I am, as we speak, opening a jar of Nutella.”
He groaned.
“Please don’t go any further. I’m sitting here with a pathetic chocolate muffin and a cold coffee.”
“Aha, I’m not going to pass up this opportunity, Zayn.”
“What –“
“Mm. This Nutella is so good. Chocolaty, and nutty, and ooh…so sweet and dark and smooth.”
I wasn’t actually eating it, but I could imagine the taste in my mouth.
He was laughing, but then he said, “You know, I think this could amount to dirty talk.”
I snorted, and I doubled over, giggling.
“You freaking pervert!”
“Oh come on, I can imagine you sitting there sucking the Nutella off your fingers and groaning into the phone.”
“Sicko,” I accused, still giggling.
“What can I say; I have a dirty, dirty mind.”
“And I’m not actually eating the Nutella,” I told him, eyeing the open jar. “Considering it, but not eating it.”
“So you’re just moaning for no reason,” he deadpanned, and I chuckled.
“Probably.”
“Or maybe my voice affects you…”
“Zayn,” I said, giggling again, “Shut up, okay?”
This time he snorted.
“Okay, sorry, let’s steer this conversation into more innocent waters. The people at the next table are giving me weird looks.”
“I would too,” I told him, closing the jar again and resisting the temptation.
We talked for quite a while – for a while he gave running commentary on the activities in the café and I wondered why coffee shops were never this interesting while I was there.
“How can you tell he’s depressed, though?” I asked, frowning into the phone as I paced up and down my living room twenty minutes later.
“He looks at the floor a lot,” Zayn said quietly, as he watched the people at the table in front of him, “and then whenever someone asks him something he looks to the left before answering, trying to convince himself of the correct answer, not sure of what he’s saying. Apart from that, his smiles aren’t genuine. They don’t reach up enough; normally people’s ears move up when they smile but his don’t – they’re forced too.”
I gaped at the little terracotta urn we have perched in the corner next to the TV.
“Zayn, you’re like fucking Cal Lightman.”
He chuckled. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m just a psychology student. But I love that show though.”
“Psychology sounds so cool,” I said, smiling a little.
“It is,” he said fervently.
We talked about psychology too, and he was a nerd in his own way, he really loved it. Too soon, it was time for him to go because he had to get back to class.
“I’m so bored,” I complained, after he told me this.
“Sorry,” he said, chuckling. “I’ll call you later, yeah?”
“Sure,” I said. “Have fun in class.”
“Yeah. Oh, and Maya?”
“Hm?”
“Do you want to go out sometime?”
I blinked at Ma’s cotton Fabindia drapes.
“Go out?”
“Yes.”
He sounded perfectly serious.
“With you?”
“Yes,” he said again, and he was smiling.
No, my mind was saying, you don’t even like him.
“Like a date?” I clarified.
“If you want it to be.”
I swallowed, considering this.
“I…”
“I’m not pressuring you,” he said quickly. “I mean, it’s totally okay if you-“
“Okay.”
“Okay what?”
I took a deep breath, and crossed my arms.
“Okay, Zayn, I’ll go out with you.”
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A/N: hate me yet? :D