A/N: Hey guys, can I ask a favour? If you're still reading and enjoying this story, please drop me a comment and/or vote for this chapter. The last one really dropped off in reads and votes, so I'm wondering if it's not living up to expectations...
The morning after the party is murder, partly because of the way my head aches so badly my eyes hurt, but mostly because of the class I have to drag myself to. Latin Literature is brutal, and deathly boring, but it might just come in handy if I do decide to go down the law school path, given how much Latin is still used in legal maxims and terminology. So, I slog my way through it, trying to force my slightly fuzzy brain to make sense of the themes in the text we're studying at the moment. Honestly, I'm not sure how successful I am, because two hours later, I still feel pretty lost.
There's no real time to dwell on that though, because I have to hightail it out of the lecture as soon as it ends to make it across campus in time for my next one. It probably seems odd that I'm almost relieved to get to my next class, given the subject matter. Linear algebra and differential equations wouldn't be most people's comfort zone, I realize, but ironically it's become almost a life raft for me in a sea of endless reading. Math doesn't require me to read a million words a week and reason my way through themes and concepts, churning out yet another essay, where the end result is always subjective, never concrete. Math just needs me to show up and work my way through problems to arrive at a single, defined, correct solution.
In a place where I feel so unsure, being able to actually finish something successfully is a huge relief. And so, yeah, I kind of look forward to my math class. At the moment, it's the only thing that makes me think I might actually deserve to be here after all. My head feels clearer by the time the lecture finishes, and I feel lighter as I head to the dining hall for lunch. Today's a half day for me, class-wise, and I have a few hours before football training, so I head back to my dorm, intent on getting some reading done.
Setting an alarm to make sure I get to training on time, I flick through the book, finding my place again before getting comfortable. I'm not sure how long I stare at the page before my late night catches up with me and my eyes drift closed. But the next thing I know, my alarm is waking me up, the book splayed open across my chest. Shit. I barely got anywhere with it, and now I have to get ready for training. I can't be late again, or Coach will probably threaten to cut me from the team, or at the very least, bench me for the next game.
"Flynn!" Boyle's voice greets me as I make it to training a little early for once. "How you doin' man?"
"Yeah, fine. How 'bout you?"
"Can't complain. Not looking forward to running sprints today, though."
"I know what you mean."
"Hey, um, are you busy Friday night?"
"Nah, man, I'll probably just be studying." Or trying to, anyway.
Boyle looks a little embarrassed. "It's just, there's a girl at La Vie who asked me to a party they're having... and I could use a wingman."
I should say no, I realize. I should tell him I'm too far behind to go out again this week, that I need to study. But besides my roommates, Boyle is the closest thing I have to a friend here, and he's my teammate, after all. He knows I have a girlfriend, which is probably half the reason he's asking me along, since I won't be competition with this girl he seems eager to win over. In the end, it seems like an easy choice.
"Yeah, no worries. I can come. Let me know where to meet you, okay?"
"Sweet. I owe you, man."
"I'm gonna hold you to that," I smirk.
"Yeah, okay." he grins back. "How 'bout I promise not to let any of the defense through to sack you on Saturday?"
Shaking my head, I reply drily. "You do know that's literally your only job on the field, right?"
"Sure," he nods, still grinning. "But I could be motivated to do it really well. Or not."
I don't have time to think of a smart ass response to that, because the assistant coach blows his whistle then, yelling at us to line up on the field. Boyle's right, the sprints do suck, and more than a few guys end up doubled over, throwing up, before Coach calls an end to that portion of the training session. After a drink break, we work on skills for the next 45 minutes or so, before hitting the showers. I really don't feel like eating dinner after that, so I decide to head straight back to my dorm.
As I walk across campus, my mind drifts to Elle. Apart from a good morning text, I haven't heard from her today, and I pull my phone out of my pocket as I round a corner, thinking about calling her. She should be home from school by now...
"Hey! Pretty boy! Watch where you're going," a vaguely familiar voice makes me grind to a halt, right before I bump into the person it belongs to.
"Shit, sorry, my bad." I hadn't been looking where I was going, too intent on my phone screen. But when I look up, I realize I do know the owner of that voice. "Chloe."
"Noah Flynn," my new lab partner flashes me a grin. "Where are you coming from in such a hurry?"
"Ah, football training, actually."
"I see. I'm assuming when you say football, that you mean the American kind, and not the world game?"
"That is correct, yes. By world game, you mean soccer, right?"
"Of course."
"Yeah, no, that's never been my thing. My girlfriend plays it, though."
Chloe's grin stretches into something that would put the Cheshire Cat to shame. "And it has a girlfriend... so many things I'm learning about you from this chance meeting, Noah Flynn."
"Don't get used to it. There's not a whole lot more to tell."
"Somehow I find that very hard to believe."
I'm not sure what I'm meant to say to that. This whole interaction is a little odd, to be honest. I don't get the sense that Chloe's trying to flirt with me, but her voice, her mannerisms, have this kind of teasing quality to them. She doesn't lack confidence, that's for sure.
"Well, sorry again for nearly bowling you over. I guess I'll see you tomorrow in Chem?"
"Absolutely, looking forward to it."
With a nod, I step around her, continuing on towards my dorm. I do try and call Elle, but there's no answer. I guess she must be busy. It occurs to me then that I don't know what her schedule's like this year, between school, dance club, soccer, and whatever else she's got going on, and that makes me feel like an asshole for not asking. I know the school year's only just started, but still. I should know these things, if for no other reason than it might help me to phone her at a time when she's actually likely to pick up.
Drinking the protein shake I'm having in lieu of actually being able to stomach dinner, I manage to get a bit of reading done over the next couple of hours. Still, it feels like I'm barely making a dent in it. But I can't make myself read it any faster, and after last night, I need an early-ish night to catch up on some sleep. Elle still hasn't returned my call by the time I brush my teeth and get ready for bed, so I shoot her a quick goodnight text and crawl under the covers. I'm so tired, it barely even registers that my phone pings with a response, just as my eyes close.
Before I know it, I'm back in Chem class, taking my seat next to a smiling Chloe. She seems to be one of those people who's perpetually happy, and while last year that probably would have annoyed the hell out of me, for some reason I find myself smiling back at her without even realizing why I'm doing it.
"Long time, no see."
"Uh huh," I nod.
Any further discussion we might have had is cut short by the professor starting the lecture, and I scramble to start taking notes. The rest of class flies by, and before I know it, we're being given the run down on the lab work we'll be starting next week.
"Each pair will be given a sample of an unknown compound. Your task will be to identify it, using the test methods we'll be studying in the lectures. As a team, you'll be required to write up your experiments and your findings as you go, with a view to preparing a full report by the end of term. Successfully identifying your compound is obviously important, but a significant portion of the grade will come from how you demonstrate your knowledge of the scientific method, and the analytical techniques you employ to derive your final answer."
With that, the professor packs up and leaves the room. Chloe turns to me.
"Sounds like this is going to be a blast..."
"Ah, yeah. Sure."
"Did you want to catch up before we have to start this next week? Maybe go over our lecture notes so far?"
My shoulders sag in relief at her suggestion. Based on the grade I got back on that pop quiz the other day, I could use the revision. "Actually, that would be great."
"Brilliant. What day works for you?"
"Uh, my classes finish up at three tomorrow... Saturday's kind of a bust - I have a game - "
"Small confession," Chloe interrupts, her expression turning mildly embarrassed. "I've never actually seen a game of American football. But I understand it takes quite a long time to play?"
"Yeah," I chuckle. "Sometimes it does. Sort of depends on whether there's overtime or not. We're playing here this weekend. You should come check it out. You know, if you can spare a couple of hours, that is."
Her smile returns. "I might just do that. Will you be on the field the whole time?"
"Ha! No. Not even close. As it is, I'm only reserving for the starting quarterback. But hopefully I'll get a bit of game time. Probably in the fourth quarter and maybe the back half of the third."
"Right. I have no idea what any of that meant, I'm afraid. But I'll try to come check it out anyway. So... study times?"
"Oh, yeah, right. Where were we? Uh, Sunday works, and I've got a few hours in the middle of the day on Monday..."
"Okay, that could work. Monday, I mean. How about we aim for that and I'll text you to confirm? You better give me your number."
Chloe hands her phone over and I put my details in. She sends me a text right away so that I have her number, before flashing me another big smile. "Well, it's been a pleasure, Noah Flynn. I might catch you at the game on Saturday."
"Sounds good," I nod, packing up my stuff as she heads for the door. The rest of Thursday and half of Friday continues in a fog of classes, and only mildly successful attempts to catch up on reading. I'm just grabbing lunch when I get a text.
Boyle: Party starts at 8. Pre-drinks at mine whenever you get here.
Well I guess that's something to look forward to. Now I just have to make it through another couple of lectures and a tutorial...
"Hey," a blonde girl with a La Vie club pin says to me, leaning a little closer than strictly necessary, even accounting for the loud music.
"Hey," I reply, leaning back on the stool I'm sitting on so my back rests against the wall behind me. It should have been obvious that I did that to create a bit of distance between us, and it probably would have been, had the girl in front of me not been as drunk as she was.
"I'm Sara," she smiles, her green eyes a little hazy and unfocused.
"Flynn," I nod, looking around for Boyle. Last I saw him, he was talking to the girl he'd come here for, so I think my wingman duties are probably done.
"You look lonely sitting here all by yourself," Sara slurs.
"Nope, all good, thanks."
"Are you sure? Because we could go somewhere quieter and talk, if you like? My room's just up the stairs..."
This is the third such offer I've received in the last hour or so, and I tell Sara the same thing I told the previous girls.
"Thanks, but I've got a girlfriend."
"Really? Where is she?" Sara makes a show of looking around us.
"Not here."
Her answering grin could only be described as predatory. "Well, I won't tell if you don't."
Alright, enough. I'm definitely not sober, but I'm sober enough to realize this night needs to end right about now.
Downing the rest of my drink, I give the still hopeful girl a tight smile that in no way could be misconstrued as friendly. "I was just leaving."
Punctuating my point, I stand up and push my way through the press of bodies, heading out the front door and into the cool night air. The party had been fine earlier, full of laughter and free-flowing drinks. But as the night wore on, and people started to hook up, it just made me think of Elle, made me miss her more, if that was even possible.
Back in my room, I flick off my shoes and shrug out of my shirt and jeans, pulling on a pair of pyjama pants before collapsing onto my bed. Looking at the time on my phone, I realize that Elle's probably heading to bed herself, and before I even register I'm doing it, I press call on her number.
"Hey!" her voice appears quickly on the end of the line.
"I just got in from a party. I wish you were here. I've got this bed all to myself and it's incredibly lonely. I miss you."
That was a lot of words. Maybe I'm more drunk than I thought. I had been drinking pretty heavily for hours. The thought makes me yawn.
"Much as I'd like to be there and, um... cuddle up with you, can I call you back in a second?"
Elle's voice sounds off.
"Everything okay?"
"Yeah, I just... have company."
There's a muffled, but definitely male, voice in the background, saying something I don't quite catch, before Elle tells me to hang on for a second. A spike of adrenaline wakes me up a little as I wonder what's going on. If it was Lee, she would've just said so. What the hell?
But before my imagination has time to run too wild, Elle's back, having changed us to a video call. She's lying on the couch, smiling at me through the screen. God, I miss seeing her smiling face everyday.
"Hey. Sorry."
"Who was that?"
"Marco."
"The new guy Marco?"
"No, the old Marco," Elle rolls her eyes. "Remember I said I had to babysit Brad tonight, because Dad's not back until late? And Lee was meant to hang out with me?"
Propping myself up on one elbow, I feel my mouth twist in disapproval. "Let me guess - he ditched you for Rachel."
I say it more as a statement than a question, because Lee's been ditching Elle on the regular again.
"Yup. But he's taking me shopping tomorrow as penance, and buying lunch. Anyway, he sent Marco as a replacement co-babysitter to keep me company. Which was okay, actually. He's a pretty nice guy. Funny. Easy to talk to, you know? Everyone seems to like him." She smirks then. "The girls definitely seem to like him. He's got a lot of admirers, the way I hear it."
"Should I worry I've got competition, Shelly?" I tease.
"Oh, totally," she says in a way that makes me laugh. "How was the party?"
"Alright, I guess. I miss you."
"I miss you more."
"Nuh-uh," I disagree, shaking my head.
"What're you gonna do about it? You can't tickle me into submission from all the way in Massachusetts."
No, but the thought is intriguing. Tickling Elle into submission frequently ends with her submitting to me in other, far more interesting, ways.
"Oh, believe me, when I see you next, I'll have to pack in weeks of tickling you're owed."
Elle laughs softly, and I wonder if she's having the same thoughts I am. We talk about our days, our plans for the weekend, but when she asks questions about my classes I steer the conversation to safer topics. Holding stuff back from Elle doesn't make me feel great, but I don't want to bother her with it all right now, not while we're having fun, talking playfully with each other like we used to, back when I lived a five minute drive away instead of a five hour flight. For her part, Elle seems a little hesitant around certain topics too, and again I wonder just how much Lee is failing to hold up his end of our agreement.
But talking with Elle, watching her as she speaks softly, the corners of her full lips turned up constantly with a hint of a smile, my brother's soon the last thing on my mind. I feel peaceful and increasingly sleepy the longer we stay on the line. What I wouldn't give to have her here right now, curled up against me. My whole body aches with how much I miss her. Yawning, I watch as Elle's attention turns elsewhere for a moment.
"I should go," she says, sitting up. "My dad's back. I'll talk to you tomorrow. I love you."
"I love you too," I mumble, suddenly struggling to keep my eyes open. "Sweet dreams."
Placing my phone on the nightstand, I turn off my lamp and close my eyes. Sleep finds me quickly, bringing with it dreams of a happy Elle, smiling and laughing as I chase her along the beach. For some reason I can't understand, I'm never quite able to catch her.