Absurdly early the next morning, my alarm clock rings. I bolt upright, jarred out of deep sleep, and very unhappy to be awake. I love med school, I do, but it's exhausting. Exams are next week, and my brain feels like it might explode.
I bury my head under the pillow for a few minutes, enjoying the silence. A hazy memory pops into my head from four years ago at Sarah's wedding: Roger's face leans towards mine in slow motion as if I'm watching a film, his eyes half-closed as they near my face.
Then, just as quickly as the fragment appeared in my mind, it's replaced by another. This time, it's the kind but stern face of Professor McCollough, the only female professor I've ever had, telling me that the field of medicine isn't quite ready for us ladies. I'll have to work twice as hard as all the other male students just to be taken seriously.
Reminded of why I'm busting my ass every day, I reluctantly get up and pad down the hall to the shower. Twenty minutes later, I'm standing in my kitchen wearing an olive sweater dress and tan boots. As I take the first bite of my buttered toast, I notice a handwritten note sitting on the counter.
He couldn't stop talking about you
I roll my eyes at Jenny's exaggeration. Assuming that the "he" in question is Roger, then I'm reasonably confident that he moved on pretty quickly once I left. There's no danger that he went home alone, that's for sure.
I admit, it was flattering to be the object of his brief affections, but I know better than to get involved with someone like him. Roger is one of those guys who makes you feel like a million bucks when their attention is on you, but, when inevitably their interest wanes, you're left feeling empty and alone. And, potentially bruised heart aside, I simply don't have time for romantic drama at the moment.
The clock on the wall chimes. Shoveling down the last bit of toast and taking a final sip of tea, I grab my bag from the hook in the entryway. The front door closes heavily behind me as I wince at the cold, damp air. It's just after sunrise, so the city is bathed in a muted, warm glow. Stepping onto the deserted street, I'm so busy trying to zip up my coat that I fail to notice the blonde across the street.
"Skylar!" a gruff voice calls quietly. My head whips around to see Roger leaning across a gate, cigarette in hand. He's bundled up in a faux fur coat and red corduroy pants, aviator sunglasses perched atop his head. Even from here, his eyes look tired. I wonder if he's been up all night.
"Roger?" I'm thoroughly caught off-guard. He gives me a little smile as he stamps out his cigarette with his shoe and crosses the street towards me.
"Mornin'," he drawls, coming to a halt in front of me. He pecks me on the cheek, leaning back to flash me a well-practiced smile.
"What are you--? How did you--?" I sputter, my eyes wide with confusion.
"Your flatmate told me that you usually leave around this time." He looks at me like the cat who swallowed the canary, all mischief and glee.
"So... you've been waiting for me? This early in the morning?"
He nods. "Aren't you lucky?" he asks jokingly, offering me a cocky grin. I'm sure it's irresistible to most women but it isn't doing it for me at this precise moment. I blame the slight hangover and inadequate caffeine intake.
"That's certainly one word for it," I mutter as I run my hand through my hair, fluffing it up. "Um, I hate to disappoint, but I have to go--"
"To school, I know," he says quickly. "Can I walk with you?" He looks a little less confident than before, perhaps afraid that I'll refuse.
"Sure," I reply with a shrug. I turn in the direction of the university, and we start to walk companionably down the narrow sidewalk.
"You missed a good time last night," Roger says, prompting an eye-roll in his direction. "You did!" he insists. "Well, everyone else got shitfaced, but I used my time much more wisely."
"Is that so?"
He hums softly in response, letting out a breathy laugh. "I spent the evening interrogating your flatmate. So now I'm practically an expert in all things concerning you."
I groan as Roger jovially loops one arm through mine as we turn onto Wade Street. "Oh, God, what did Jenny tell you?"
"You're training to be a doctor, work impossible hours, have shockingly little fun, hate to cook, and love fashion. Though the latter I could have guessed on my own, as you're always looking very chic." He cheerfully lists these random facts, flashing me a megawatt smile at the end
"You've seen me twice," I note wryly before he continues undeterred.
"And your last boyfriend, who sounds like a first-class rotter, cheated on you a few months ago. So, under the penalty of death, I've been ordered not to try to shag you. I'll admit, I did make that promise, but that was after a few drinks and in the midst of a massive performance high. Now that I'm more clear-headed and you're in front of me, it might not be a promise that I can keep." He waggles his eyebrows jokingly, making me want to reach out to playfully tweak his nose.
"So why are you here if not to try to shag me?" I joke in reply. He tightens his grip on my arm as we take another turn onto the high street.
"Isn't it obvious? I'm determined to discover what lies beneath the surface. There are beans to be spilled, I'm sure of it."
"Maybe I'm just not that interesting," I offer. Roger shakes his head, his dark blonde hair flying about his shoulders.
"I refuse to believe that," he replies. "Okay, how's this? If you answer five questions while we walk, then I'll leave you alone."
I shrug agreeably. It doesn't seem like a bad deal. Roger looks up towards the sky as he thinks of the questions.
"Okay, okay," he says excitedly, rubbing his hands together. "Favorite color?"
"That's how you're using one of your five questions? Okay, well... blue, I suppose."
"It was the warm-up question," he protests. "Fine, fine, favorite musician?"
"Freddie Mercury," I smirk as he swats my arm lightly.
"Oh, fuck off, real favorite musician?"
"Paul McCartney, obviously."
He winces and shakes his head. "That may be a deal-breaker, Skylar. I'm sorry to say it, but it's true."
"Ah, you prefer Lennon?" I ask with a knowing smile. He nods and scratches his head, already thinking of the next question.
"Favorite food?"
"These are literally the most boring questions ever!" I protest. "Is that really all you got?" He cocks an eyebrow at me as I anticipate a question about my virginity or my propensity to be a serial killer.
Instead, he laces his fingers through mine and stops, tugging me towards him. I come to a halt, not even an inch away from his face, our noses nearly touching. He looks at me with those hooded blue eyes and, I swear, my heart skips a beat.
"Last person you kissed?" he asks softly, looking at my lips. The silence between us becomes thick with anticipation as I watch him watching me. Finally, I gather all of my willpower and pull away.
"That's none of your business," I mumble, trying to hide the fact that he's managed to fluster me. I start to walk forward once more, and, after a moment's hesitation, he follows.
"Final question, Taylor. Better make it a good one!" I call back over my shoulder, watching as he quickly catches up to me.
"Will you have dinner with me tonight?" He spits out the last question quickly. I peek over, and he's looking down at the sidewalk, his hand tapping a beat against his thigh.
I stop to face him. "I can't."
"Why not?"
"Well, for starters, I have a study group tonight--"
At this, he takes half a step forward and starts to speak.
"--But, more importantly," I continue, "I'm not into guys like you."
"Guys like me?" he asks, taking a step back with one eyebrow cocked.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about." As soon as the words leave my mouth, I see a brief flicker of emotion over his face. "Anyway, aren't you all going on tour? Jenny has been complaining that Brian won't be around until Christmas."
He nods, looking rather proud of the fact that they're off on their first tour. We continue to walk the short distance to the university in silence. A few times, I get the sense that he's about to say something, but he never does. Strolling through the university gate, we're greeted by a flurry of overworked, under-slept med school students who are rushing to class just like I am.
"Well, could I ring you when I'm back?" he asks. "For a friendly coffee," he hastens to add.
I hesitate, not wanting to sound like an asshole but also not wanting to encourage him. "Roger, I'm not giving you my number to add to the thousands of girls' numbers you already have."
"That's okay. I do know where you live, you know," he replies with a smirk.
"That's not creepy at all," I reply with a grin. "Look, I'm sure you're a good guy somewhere beneath all that hair and swagger and everything else, but... I'm not interested, okay?"
He nods and pats his pockets until he finds his cigarettes, offering me one. I shake my head no as he fumbles around for a lighter.
"I have to run to class," I say. Roger nods and leans over to pull me close. I've got to hand it to him, it's a good hug. Not one of those half-hugs where the guy sort of gets close and pats you reassuringly on the back. No, this is a full-body hug that will leave me missing his solid warmth once he steps away. As soon as I realize how much I'm enjoying it, I stiffen and pull back.
"Thanks for walking me to school," I say, lifting my hand to give the drummer a little wave. With that, I quickly turn and walk to the grand staircase leading up to the lecture hall. I'm halfway up when I hear his voice ring out from below.
"Skylar!"
I look over my shoulder to see Roger still standing in the same spot. The breeze ruffles his hair, and a ray of sunlight hits him at that instant, illuminating his face with a warm glow. He squints in the bright light.
"Don't fool yourself, this is going to happen!" He gestures between the two of us, a knowing grin on his face.
Rolling my eyes, I call back, "Keep telling yourself that, Taylor."
He chuckles and gives me a sweet smile. Then, as if someone may have seen his momentary lapse in coolness, he turns to saunter cockily back towards the gate. A few girls look at him curiously as they pass by, likely a combination of admiring his get-up and the fact that he looks really fucking sexy right now.
As he reaches the university gates, he glances back over his shoulder to see me still standing there watching him. His face lights up with a smile, and he winks broadly before continuing on his way. I take a deep breath, trying to put him out of my mind, and take two steps at a time as I hurry to class.