by Mia Castile
“Nyla, finish up please. We are ready to go to lunch, and need to close.” A gauntly woman with jet black hair piled on top of her head stood at the top
of the stairs beside the pipe railing. Nyla looked up at the woman when she heard her name. “Yes, Veronica,” she answered as she turned back to Jamison, as the other woman walked back to her office. “There is your answer; we’re going to lunch.” She narrowed her eyes smugly. He nodded, accepting defeat.
“Another time, then,” he replied as he stood upright again.
“Another time.” She went around the desk and walked him to the front door. He couldn’t help himself; he lingered around the corner and watched the building. He knew he was bordering on being a stalker if he hadn’t already crossed that line. But he stood in the doorway of a lawyer’s office a few buildings down. Within ten minutes, Angela and the other woman came out and grabbed a cab, but Nyla was not with them. He crossed the street and stood in front of the gallery. He saw Nyla sitting on the bench in the middle of the show room. She had a sandwich in her hand and a brown paper bag flattened beside her with an apple and juice box on it. She was staring at the first painting he had just purchased. He couldn’t help himself; he stood there and watched her. Finally, he turned away and walked back to his apartment.
His roommate was sitting at their dining room sized table with books piled up and his laptop front and center.
“Dude, there’s only been one day of school,” Jamison said as he plopped down on the couch and turned on the TV.
“This isn’t high school; you have to get on the school work and stay on it.” His roommate pushed up his glasses and looked back at his computer screen.
“Yeah, yeah, I just bought some artwork from a pretty cool gallery. It would be a cool place to throw a party. I wonder if they do that, host parties.” Jamison put his feet up on the coffee table and his arm on the back of the couch as he watched Sports Center.
“They’re a gallery; they host art shows. That’s the closest they probably come to throwing parties,” he said, not turning around. That was the extent of their conversation. After a few programs, Jamison finally went to his room. He didn’t want to give the appearance that he actually was concerned with school, so he did his homework in his room. When he went out for a drink from the kitchen, he changed into his pajamas and tousled his hair so that it looked like he was sleeping. His roommate was still sitting at the table, but he was on the phone talking to someone about a location to study for one of his study group. Jamison had to admit that he had the right plan; the people who wanted to study with Jamison were like him, slackers, who got by on what little they could in school. He wondered if he could join at least one of the groups. Then he had an idea. When his roommate got off the phone, Jamison asked him.
“What group are you having location problems with?” Jamison sat his now half-drunk bottled water on the counter he leaned against.
“Spanish, but I think my anthropology group will have the same issue next week.” He leaned back in his chair and groaned. This was good. Jamison needed into a group for both subjects.
“You know, you guys can always study here; I mean we have enough room.”
“Really? That would fix so many problems—wait. Why would you help?” He narrowed his eyes, wary of Jamison.
“I need in some good study groups. I was hoping I could join yours.”
“Which one?”
“Both? And I need a math group too.” Jamison sat down at the table and looked hopeful.
“If you join our group, then you have to carry your weight. You have until the end of the week to transfer to the right classes. We share projects evenly. We’ve already discussed it. If you can get into my classes, then you can join our group if the others approve too. Math though, you’re on your own. Check out the math lab; they have a bulletin board there for help.” He handed Jamison his schedule, and he went to his room. Jamison was relieved. Maybe he didn’t have to be the person he had been in high school. Maybe he could re-invent himself altogether. He went back to his room and jumped online to changed his schedule. All his classes were still Monday and Wednesday and the class on Friday he’d managed to schedule the same as Nyla. He returned Ethan’s schedule to the top of his books with a post-it note saying he’d changed his classes. Then he went to bed satisfied with the day he’d had.
Chapter 2
Nyla walked into her anthropology class and found Ethan. He had sat beside her on Monday and seemed extremely nice. He waved and smiled as she entered the large classroom. He pointed to the seat beside him. She made her way over to him and sat down.
“Hey girl,” he said smoothly. He had very pretty eyes behind his wire-rimmed glasses. His dark brown hair hung in ringlets around his face. It wasn’t long, but it was long enough for most girls to be jealous of his curls. She desperately wanted to reach out and touch it. The light glistened off it so appealingly, but she held back. He had a nice oval face. He was nice to look at if you liked that intellectual look. Nyla had the feeling that she did.
“Hey, Ethan,” she replied as she pulled out her books and dug for a pen in her messenger bag.
“I’d like to talk to you and the group about someone, but not everyone’s here yet.” He nervously watched the door.
“Why, what’s up?” She looked up at him from her bent over position.
“My roommate said we can use our place for our groups if he can join them.” He didn’t hold her eye contact; instead, he fiddled with his pen.
“As long as he understands the rules, I don’t care.” She tried to catch his eye to give him an encouraging smile. He looked over at her.
“I told him, but he’s not really like the rest of us.” He shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, but Nyla had the feeling it might be. She nodded as more people came in. Their group for this class consisted of another girl named Maddie and two other boys. They found seats around Ethan and Nyla. He filled them in on the new developments. They all said the same thing Nyla had said. She liked the group and hoped the new dynamic would only strengthen their newly formed bond. Right before class began, Jamison walked through the door. He waved at her. She gawked at him, shocked yet again. Then she realized he wasn’t waving to her but someone past her when he refocused his smile on her.
“My roommate,” Ethan said to the group in a low tone. Nyla jerked her head around and looked at Ethan accusingly. Confused, he tilted his head to her. She softened her expression, apology in her eyes as Jamison came over and took the seat in front of her. His smile broadened while her face reddened as she realized he’d waved at Ethan when he came into the class. This smile though, the broad cheesy smile, was for her. Ethan introduced everyone else first. He nodded to them and smiled his hello. When Ethan introduced Nyla, Jamison said, “Nyla Anderson.”
“You two know each other?” Ethan asked.
“Unfortunately,” Nyla said dryly not taking her eyes off Jamison then added, “I want to change my vote.”
“It’s too late; the votes have been cast,” Jamison said quickly, taking her
statement to mean that he was in. She glanced at Ethan, begging for support.
“Why?” Ethan asked.
“I have personal reasons.” Her voice betrayed her, wavering a little as she continued to look at Ethan.
“We’re all getting fresh starts. Don’t you think that’s all the more reason to give me a chance and let me join your group?” Jamison looked at the rest of the group hoping for sympathy votes. By the expressions on their faces, he was pretty sure he had them on his side. The girl, well, the girl was definitely in, but the other guys looked at him distrustfully, the same way Ethan had the night before. Could they have been intimidated by his good looks? He tried to put that idea from his mind because he was not trying to be that cocky guy any more.
“If you don’t pull your weight, you’re out, no second chances, one chance.” She looked at him sternly. He understood what she was really saying that she would be looking for
any chance to kick him out of their group. He nodded OK as the professor began his lecture. He was pleased; he couldn’t have planned this better if he’d tried, but glancing back at Ethan, he realized that he didn’t like the way Ethan looked at her. He didn’t understand why he didn’t like it either. He took as detailed notes as he could, and when class was over, he looked back at Nyla as she slid her books back into her messenger bag.
“So when are we getting together to study, guys?” he addressed the group but kept his eyes on Nyla. She blushed, again avoiding his gaze.
“Probably over the weekend; we’ll get an email going. Are we all friends on Status Quo?” Everyone nodded except for Jamison. Ethan continued, “I’ve got to get to Spanish.” He threw his bag over his shoulder and began making his way toward the door, oblivious to the sudden tension between Jamison and Nyla.
“I’ll walk with you.” Nyla rose suddenly and followed Ethan. He paused and waited for her to catch up. Jamison smiled at the rest of the group.
“I guess I’ll see you this weekend; I have to get to Spanish, too.” The only other girl in their group smiled, but the boys were already discussing something that Jamison didn’t care about. He followed at a safe distance behind Nyla and Ethan. He figured he could at least give her a little space. He analyzed their body language. They walked really close to each other. Ethan looked down at his feet a lot. She bumped him with her shoulder, and they both laughed. He wanted to know what they were talking about. Why was it so easy for Ethan to talk to her and for her to talk to him? He didn’t get it. It had never been easy to talk to her. She never made things easy for him. Nyla and Ethan arrived in class first, when Jamison entered the class and realized, this meant they shared two classes, two study groups, and a three hour lecture on Friday. By the end of the semester he would get to the bottom of whatever was going on between her and him. Well, she hated him, but he would get to the bottom of what was going on with himself. If things didn’t work out, then he could just transfer back to Notre Dame. At least his parents would be happy, and he could put this whole Nyla thing behind him. That was actually what he hoped for. He didn’t want to be so hung up on her acceptance of him. He entered the class and this time sat behind Ethan. Her only acknowledgement of him was rolling her eyes just before she faced forward.
She didn’t understand why he was there, like a parasite that wouldn’t leave. Why wouldn’t he just go away? She saw him more now than when they were in high school. She let her mind wander toward memories. Nadia and Lindsey had become friends their freshman year. Nyla was in seventh grade. The first time Lindsey came over, Nyla didn’t think it was a big deal. Nadia was watching her as she often did. Saturday was a regular work day for their mom. She was always working. Lindsey’s mom dropped her and her younger brother off just after lunch. Nadia and Lindsey immediately ran upstairs to Nadia’s bedroom and shut the door, leaving Nyla and Lindsey’s brother staring at each other.
“I’m Nyla,” she said as she crossed the great room and changed the channel on the TV from E! to MTV.
“I’m Jamison. Can we watch something else?” He sat down on the love seat.
“What do you want to watch?” She brought up the menu of programming and sat on the couch.
“I don’t know; something that’s not so lame.” He didn’t even look at her.
“OK so tell me what’s not lame?” She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks.
“Sports Center, or FX; you got HBO?” Bored, he leaned back and looked at her.
“Sports Center, ew, FX?” She scrolled and found an old UFC fight on. “No, and we don’t have HBO or any of the movie channels,” she sighed.
“Let me see that.” He stood and jerked it from her hand. She glared at him. He ignored her and scrolled through the menu, finally settling on a movie on USA. She offered him a drink.
“Whatcha got?” He stood and followed her to the kitchen.
“Kool-Aid, milk, water, grape juice, diet pop.” She gave him his options.
“No regular pop? What, are you poor?” He leaned against the counter and crossed his ankles. She looked at him closely for the first time. He wore designer jeans and brand new Air Jordans. His shirt was a Nike. She wore a pair of Cherokee shorts from Target and a basic cotton top. She had braces; he had perfect white teeth. She had glasses; he had sunglasses sitting on the top of his head. He smirked at her as if he were deducing the same thing she was.
“We’re not poor. You have six options; pick one.” She took down two glasses and filled their glasses with ice from the refrigerator. She took out the cherry Kool-Aid and filled her glass and looked over at him.
“That’s fine I guess.” He shrugged. She filled his glass and put the pitcher up. She went back to the couch and watched the movie with him in silence. That was the first time they met, and though the older girls came down after a few hours upstairs chattering non-stop, they didn’t talk to each other. That was how she spent her Saturdays for the first semester of seventh grade. Either Lindsey and Jamison came to her home, or she was intimidated by the large estate where they lived across town. He enjoyed too much making her feel less than he was. She was raised middle-class by a single mom. It was a large feat—especially in the small town. A veterinarian, she worked hard and provided as best she could for her daughters. Nyla didn’t play the games that Jamison played. He liked stuff and people who had stuff. If someone didn’t have stuff, as long as they kissed his butt, they were OK. She didn’t do that. She was proud of herself for not giving in to the easy way. She wouldn’t do that now either.
After Spanish class, she escaped to her math class. She was relieved to finally to be rid of Jamison. She didn’t like that everywhere she looked, he was suddenly there. He had saturated her life, and now she needed to rid herself of him somehow. Her day ended at the coffee house where she ordered her usual and found a booth in the corner. She began her homework, feeling pleased with her progress. She looked up suddenly when someone scooted into the seat across from her. Ethan smiled at her as he unzipped his bag.
“I hope you don’t mind. Both you and Jamison mentioned how good this place was.” He grinned as the waitress brought over his latte.
“Can we not mention his name?” she groaned.
“Sure no problem, but what is your issue with him?” He took out a matching math book and a notebook.
“We’ve just known each other for a long time and have never gotten along. He was supposed to go to Notre Dame.” She leaned back and crossed her arms. Ethan seemed pleased with her answer. She wondered why. “What did he say about me?”
“Nothing at all.” Ethan shrugged; she became enraged. After the way he had invaded her life over the past two days, he didn’t say anything about her? “What? Should he have said something about you?”
“No, this is better, but you’ll tell me, right, if he says anything about me?” She felt like she was in junior high again. Actually, she never went through anything like that in junior high. Her best friends, Dexter and Emma, who were both currently at Purdue University, were two of the most loyal, steady friends she could have asked for. They had only started dating their senior year after they had both decided to go to Purdue. She was happy for her friends.
“Do you want me to ask him about you?” Ethan leaned in conspiratorially. She inhaled deeply.
“No, I don’t want you to bring me up to him. I don’t want him to talk about me.” Ethan sighed with relief. She tilted her head and looked at him, slightly confused.
“I was hoping you’d say that. Today it seemed like a little more was going on between you two. I didn’t know if you dated or just slept together or something. He seems like the type. . .” He trailed off as her eyes widened.
“No, no way, definitely not. Ew.” She shook her head violently.
“OK, it just seemed like you had history,” he continued warily.
“We do have history. Since junior high, he’s made my life miserable. He’s so self-absorbed, and he thinks money fixe
s everything,” she said so suddenly that Ethan cocked his head to the side.
“Good then.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to ask you out, and it would complicate things if you already had something going on with my roommate.” He looked down.
“Oh,” she whispered.
“So I guess that’s a no?” He looked up at her again, disappointed.
“No, not that. I just wasn’t expecting that.” Now she looked down as he analyzed her.
“Why not?” he asked.
“I don’t know; I just wasn’t expecting it.” She closed her book, knowing that she wasn’t going to get any more work done.
“So do you want to go out, maybe tomorrow evening; what do you think?” She thought about it.
“I think I’d like that.” She couldn’t help but smile at him. He reached across the table and took her hand. His hand was warm and soft. She let out a breath as he squeezed it.
Ethan walked her to her apartment. She wanted to invite him in, but she held back. Even though she felt that he would respect her and just talk as she would have suggested, she didn’t ask him in. Instead, he walked her to her door and as she told him goodnight, he leaned in and kissed her cheek. She blushed shyly at his gesture and went inside.
That night she slept soundly though she remembered a theme to her dreams. Jamison. She was either being chased or was chasing him. She woke up the next morning disturbed. She got ready for work mechanically and was on her way with little effort. She was leery of her coffee shop but knew she needed her morning coffee to deal with Angela. So she went in and stood in the line. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. She heard conversations from familiar faces.
“So what’s your usual?” She stiffened. Jamison stood behind her.
“Mocha latte with extra whipped cream.” She didn’t turn around.
“Aahh good choice. I get a black coffee with a double shot of espresso.”