Love is found where there is light.
I trace my index finger along the words painted in gold on the wooden base of the snowglobe. My phone is in my other hand, its screen warm against my ear. All I can hear on the other end of the line is the faint sound of my dad typing away at his computer. I can picture him sitting in his office desk chair with his back ramrod straight, squinting at the computer screen through his thick-rimmed glasses.
Moments later, there's some rustling as Mom picks up her phone and says breathlessly, "Sorry, honey, it was the delivery man."
"It's okay." I smile, putting the snowglobe next to the open textbook on my desk.
"So, I just wanted to remind you," she continues, and I can hear her moving to sit at one of the wooden kitchen counter stools. "Your tickets have been booked. I've sent you the email."
"Thanks," I say, smiling again at the thought of going back home with Vera. All I have to do is get through the upcoming exams. I purse my lips in nervousness. "Ugh, I hate exams."
My mother chuckles in response. "Just promise you'll remember one thing, honey."
"What is it?"
"Drink lots of water, don't forget to eat at the right time, have some fruit, and get plenty of sleep."
"Ma," I roll my eyes. "That's four things."
"Oh, and don't drink too much coffee!" she adds hastily, and I laugh, relaxing in my chair.
"So, how's —"
A small beep interrupts me. I pull the phone away from my ear to look at it. The screen indicates another incoming call. Felix. The moment my eyes catch his name, the strangest mix of fear and vexation courses through me, my smile melting at the edges. I press the phone to my ear again.
"Hey, Mom? I'm getting another call from . . ." I falter at the idea of revealing Felix as my boyfriend to Mom. It just doesn't seem . . . necessary at this point. Clearing my throat, I say, " . . . my friend. I'll talk to you later, okay? Love you!"
"Okay, honey! Love you, too!" Mom replies before hanging up.
Inhaling deeply through my nose, I connect to Felix's call. Two seconds of silence are followed by his voice, invading my ear as he says, "Hello?"
"Hey, Felix," I say, scraping my desk chair back to stand. With my phone wedged between my ear and shoulder, I put my pens and highlighters back into their pastel blue holder.
"Hi," he says. Even in that one syllable, I can hear a little bit of hesitation. "How are you?"
"I'm fine, thanks," I reply, but my voice sounds terribly curt. I turn away from my desk and try to sound friendlier, "And you? How's your exam prep going?"
"It's going nowhere," he laughs dryly. "But hey, I want to talk to you. Can we meet?"
"Sure. I'll see you at class tomorrow, okay?"
"Actually, I was hoping we could meet now."
"Now?" I ask dubiously. "I'm studying."
As though to make a point, I turn around and noisily flip a page of my Human Resources textbook. But Felix isn't convinced.
"Please?" he insists, and I sigh resignedly. "I can come to your dorm . . ."
"Uh." I glance around myself at the unmade beds and the small heaps of Vera's clothes scattered on the floor. "How about the library?"
"Okay," Felix says, his voice sounding lighter now that I've conceded to what he wants. "I'll be there in ten."
"Okay, bye!"
I hang up and immediately rush to my closet. Opening the door is like releasing a jar full of butterflies in my stomach. The surreal memory of pleasure, fear and guilt floods me again, and I'm powerless to stop it. I just close my eyes and wait for it to pass.
Inside the drawer, I find the small bottle of concealer lying on its side, next to some tubes of lip gloss and mascara. I spend the next five minutes in front of the oval mirror hanging on the wall, carefully dabbing the liquid on my skin until the purplish bruise on my chin disappears. The contusion still hurts to the touch, but it's already starting to fade; it'll be gone in three days' time.
A little later, I lock the dorm room door behind me and head out into the hallway. Bright white lights line the ceiling above me, and the corridor is rather crowded with girls heading in and out of their rooms. I smile at the ones I recognize as I climb down the flight of stairs to the ground floor. Once I'm out of the building, I start to head straight to the library, wasting no time to admire the thin layer of snow that has settled on the ground and the treetops.
Felix had texted me, letting me know that he'll be on the third floor where there's a spacious lounge full of vending machines and coffee tables surrounded by cushioned chairs. Instead of taking the elevator straight to the lounge, I decide to take the stairs and wander through the first and second floor aisles on my way up.
When I get to the second floor, I spot a familiar figure sitting at the desk from a distance. I walk towards him slowly, casually looking in his direction. On closer inspection, it takes me a moment to put a name to the guy staring intently at his laptop. Rick.
And the next thing I know, I find myself spinning in a slow circle, looking for his honey-eyed friend.
Sure enough, Liam is standing in the aisle behind me, leaning against a tall wooden bookshelf, a book in his arms. He's wearing another one of his obscure band t-shirts over black jeans. His dark brown hair is in its usual disarray, and his eyes are trailing over a page of the heavy book so fast, I'm unsure how he's catching all the words.
I'm teetering on my feet, wondering whether to call his attention, when he chooses for me by looking up. Liam's eyes land squarely on me. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise before his lips part in a smile.
I raise my hand awkwardly and mouth, "Hey."
As I walk over to him, a flutter of nervousness and anticipation rises in my throat — one that only Liam Archer is capable of inducing. He pushes himself away from the bookshelf and straightens.
"Hey," he replies, still smiling.
I'm looking at him, and he's looking back at me, but we're both silent. A moment later, two boys pass by, casting a fleeting glance at us. Liam turns to the other end of the aisle before reaching down to grab my hand and lead me there. It's harder for anyone to spot us now unless they're in the aisles directly in front of or behind us. I check to see that they're both empty.
Liam turns to me with his eyes all bright and says in a totally different tone this time, "Hey."
"I'm sorry for interrupting you when you were studying," I say lamely, knotting my fingers.
"Don't be," Liam says, his cheeks coloring. "You're the best distraction."
His words and his fingers — still wrapped around mine — leave me blushing and smiling and just . . . melting from the inside out. In the best possible way.
But the feeling dims when my phone chimes in my pocket. I step back and reach into my coat for it. It's Felix, wanting to know if I'm at the library yet.
"I have to go," I say, squeezing Liam's hand apologetically. "My friend's waiting upstairs."
I'm mentally preparing myself for him to ask who my friend is, and bracing for the awkwardness that will ensue. But Liam doesn't ask. Instead, he lifts his free hand to the back of my neck, bringing my face closer. He dips his head to press a feather-light kiss to my cheek, just below my eye.
"See you later," he says, shifting back to look at me.
If I don't pull my hand away from Liam's and turn around now, I may end up kissing him right here in the programming languages aisle, and I can't fathom the hell that will break loose if one of our friends were to see us.
I manage to whisper goodbye to Liam before breaking contact and turning away, hurrying past the aisles to the other end of the floor. I take the stairs two at a time, my black backpack swinging behind my shoulder. When I stop at the top of the stairs, I realize that I haven't replied to Felix's text. It's stupid, but the thought of his enraged face forces me to grab my phone and type out a quick response, assuring him that I'm almost there.
It doesn't take long to find him. He's sitting in one of the lime green chairs to my right, leaning over a notebook on the round glass-topped coffee table in front of him. His six-foot build takes up almost every inch of the seat, making it look inadequate and small. He's pushing the sleeves of his red hoodie up to his elbows as I walk over to him.
"Hi," I say, tucking my loose hair behind my ears.
'Hey!" Felix grins, gesturing to the seat opposite him. "Thanks for coming."
"It's okay." I move to sit, dropping my backpack on the floor by my feet. "So . . . you wanted to talk?"
"Yeah, but before that," he interjects quickly, pushing the open notebook on the table closer to me. "Can you help me figure this economics stuff out?"
"I'll try," I say with a small shrug.
I look down at the page, the closely spaced lines filled with Felix's scrawl. The dark blue ink has pooled into little spots where he's pressed the pen too hard on the paper. There are a handful of graphs drawn near the margins, the wobbly x and y axes clearly indicating that they were made freehand and in a hurry.
"Okay, microeconomic demand," I say, mostly to myself, "supply, equilibrium . . ."
As I try to explain everything that I remember about this topic to Felix, the tension in my shoulders starts to ebb. And by the time we're done with market equilibrium price, it has completely disappeared. This moment reminds me of our first study date at The Blacktop. That Friday night is miles away now, and not just because I was hoping that Felix was the one I was desperately trying to find.
Finally, Felix closes his notebook and leans back in his chair.
"Thank you, you're a lifesaver," he says, his chocolate eyes full of mirth.
A small, embarrassed chuckle leaves my throat as I wave my hand in dismissal of his gratitude.
But the very next second, Felix's gaze is boring into me, serious and unsmiling. He clears his throat, and I lean forward in anticipation of what he has to say. If he apologizes now, we can put that awful incident behind us, and maybe I can finally force myself to end the reckless, futile game I'm playing with Liam behind everyone's backs.
"So," Felix begins, still holding my gaze with the firm, confident grip of his. "We both owe each other an apology."
He takes a brief pause, and in that instant, I scour my brain for something that I might have forgotten.
Do I owe Felix an apology?
Isn't Felix the one that embarrassed me in front of my friends with his unreasonable outburst at The Blacktop? Isn't he the one who raised his hand — albeit accidentally — at me, leaving me with a bruise that I have to blot out with copious amounts of concealer?
I finally muster the courage to question Felix about this, but he starts to speak again, and I remain silent. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and interlocking his fingers.
While he's profusely apologizing about the incident at The Blacktop, repeatedly asserting that he regrets acting the way he did, I'm only half listening. I find myself recollecting what Felix had said about me treating him like 'anyone else'. My back stiffens in a cringe as I realize that just before his hand had landed on my shoulder that day, I'd been berating myself for not giving a moment's thought to his Christmas present.
In hindsight, Felix's actions seem like proof not of his aggression but of his insecurity. Maybe all I have to do is reassure him of my feelings. Maybe an apology from me is all it takes for us to return to study dates, kissing gates and long night drives to abandoned observatories.
"It's okay, Felix," I blurt out, stopping him mid-sentence. "I'm sorry, too."
His mouth widens in a big grin. He edges forward in his seat, his knees touching the rim of the small coffee table as he leans closer.
"Apology accepted," he declares, his hands cupping my face on both sides.
I give a small smile, but when Felix runs his thumb around my cheekbone, over the exact same spot where Liam had kissed me, a painful feeling lodges itself in my chest. The feeling of something beautiful and precious being irreparably tainted.
❅❅
Hi! Now that I'm on a break, I'll be able to find more time to update this story, and I might be able to complete Falling in the Dark by the end of July. Fingers crossed! Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Thank you for reading! ♡
And also, you might have noticed that my username has been changed to @adverbially. I'd been meaning to change my username for a while now, and I noticed that so many users here on Wattpad have adverbs for usernames, and . . .
I know what you're thinking. This is probably you right now:
But my username is going to be @adverbially . . . until I come up with something even worse.
Hugs,
Amethyst