Shh!

by Stacey Nash

  “Dumb movie,” I said on a shaky breath.

  I felt him chuckle as I pulled my legs up and curled them to the side to watch our superhero save the world. It had been a long day, and as the movie moved into what was surely the closing scene, I started to feel tired. Logan’s chest was barely an inch from my face, but I wouldn’t fall asleep on him again. I couldn’t. My eyes started to slide, but I caught them just in time and forced them open. Logan’s arm rested warm and heavy around me and it would be a lie to say I didn’t like it. The closing credits rolled onto the screen and neither of us moved. Maybe he’d fallen asleep. The way his chest rose and fell was kind of slow, sleepy.

  The credits finished up and the screen flicked to blank. Still Logan didn’t move. His hand rested on my hip, his arm still curled around me. He had to be asleep. It felt so good in his embrace, I let my cheek drop onto his chest. It would only be for a moment, and he’d never know. A moment wouldn’t hurt anyone, right?

  Logan smelled so good. A fresh ocean scent mixed with a masculine musk that made my senses tingle. All of them. My tummy fluttered in ways it shouldn’t near a friend.

  I nuzzled into him for one last stolen moment then went to pull away, but Logan’s hold on me tightened and he mumbled something completely incomprehensible. My heart must have thought it was missing out on the party my tummy was having because it started its own weird flutter too, and good heavens, I needed space and I needed it right now.

  Moving with the care of a neurosurgeon, I gently lifted Logan’s hand and slipped out from his hold in a contortionist-like move that had me holding my breath as I swivelled away. Then I placed his hand on the lounge, and let go. Logan looked as peaceful as a sleeping puppy. His dark lashes fanned his cheeks, which were slightly rosy from the warmth of the room, and made his usually striking features look somehow more innocent than hot. If I just reached out and laid my hand against his cheek …

  Get a grip.

  I switched out the movie for one of the rom-coms. If he was sleeping anyway, it didn’t really matter what I put on. There was no way I could slide back into my spot without waking him, so I sat on the floor and rested my back on the seat where I had previously sat. Logan’s knee was touching my shoulder, and my waist felt cold without his arm there.

  This movie proved to be almost as hard to concentrate on as the last one. If I just rested my heavy eyes for a second …

  Something startled me awake.

  “Shit!” Logan cursed as he jumped over the top of me. “Shit, shit, shit!”

  “What is it?” I asked, rubbing my eyes with my knuckles.

  “I’m late. I gotta go.”

  I jumped to my feet and Logan swooped in, planting a kiss on my cheek. “See you later, Liv.”

  I offered him a weak smile which he returned just before he dashed out of the room. There was no point watching the rest of the movie because I had no idea what was going on after having slept through at least half of it, so I ejected the disc and packed up our mess. As I plodded up to my room with my hand pressed to my cheek, thoughts of how nice it felt cuddled into Logan’s side filled my mind, no matter how hard I pushed them away.

  I climbed into bed, still smiling, and pulled the covers up under my chin. If I just tried hard enough, maybe I could move past my own darn insecurities and make things with Logan work out … somehow. The rumours, the study time, his closed off attitude … maybe none of it really mattered.

  ****

  I woke with a start. Each pound of my heart was so huge it slammed against my ribs.

  “Wake up Oxley, it’s snowing!”

  Laughter followed the shout. Freaking drunk people. I bet it wasn’t even cold enough to make their breaths frost.

  “Shut up!” Came a reply from across the courtyard.

  That only caused more laughing.

  With a groan, I glanced at the glowing numbers of my digital clock. 3:09. Far out. Go to bed, people.

  Then I froze.

  Ohmigod.

  I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t even …

  My hand was on the inside of my underwear; my fingers nestled close to my body.

  It was true. It was all true. Everything they’d said was true.

  True.

  True.

  I yanked my hand away like it was poison. I clamped my thighs together and rolled onto my side, shoving the offending appendages under my pillow and crunching my head down on top. Christian, Ella, my moaning so loud I woke people up.

  True.

  Oh my-freaking-goodness. They’d seen me. My whole darn floor had seen me mid-act. That story about having my hand … I couldn’t breathe. Ella wasn’t just being a jerk, she was telling the holy truth. There’s no way I’d be able to look her in the eye again. It was far too mortifying.

  I gulped against a desert-dry mouth.

  This couldn’t be real. Tonight had to have been a once-off. Maybe I was itchy, or dreaming, or holy buttercup, anything but that. Surely it wasn’t possible to do something and not realise it. Nothing made any sense.

  I swallowed the tightness in my throat and squeezed my eyes shut, wishing to high heaven that I was dreaming and I’d wake any second.

  I didn’t.

  Because I was already awake. Who was I kidding?

  My stomach felt tight and so did my chest. Unable to hold it any longer, I sucked in a huge breath. I could never show my face again knowing that every time Ella or Christian or any of the guys on my floor saw me, they’d be picturing me naked. Just like they’d seen me before …

  Like that.

  I just … couldn’t.

  How could I ever sleep again knowing that I might do something inappropriate? I could scream, moan, or yell for everyone to hear, and oh my gosh, what about when I wasn’t at college sleeping behind a locked door? When I was home for the holidays? Good lord, had I always done this? All those sleepovers with friends in high school …

  Logan.

  His name seared through my mind, dropping a heaviness inside me. There could never, ever be anything more between us. I never wanted him to see me like this. Ever.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “What happened with the election, Olivia? I heard you weren’t voted in?”

  That was my mother. No fluff, no hugs, no happy you’re home. Just straight to the point of what mattered. I leaned against the kitchen counter, too tired to hold my posture straight, while she prepared my homecoming meal. It looked like some kind of chicken dish, maybe cacciatore. I’d been here for all of two hours and this was the first chance we’d had to talk, since she’d only returned from work ten minutes ago. I had tried to crash in that time, but it seemed being too tired to sleep was possible. I’d barely snatched a wink since discovering what I did while asleep.

  “Well?”

  “Not sure.” I shrugged. “Guess I wasn’t popular enough.” With her, it was easier to lie than tell the truth. News of the suspension would result in two weeks of her droning disappointment and lectures about my stupidity. I wasn’t sure I had the strength to cope with that.

  “Well, you mustn’t have worked the crowds hard enough. Elouise Parry said Ella told her you’ve been a little absent because something happened with Christian. That’s not good enough. These things take social skill, Olivia, and that’s something we’ve taught you.” She tisked. “How are you going to fix it?”

  “Try harder. Do more.” I sighed.

  My mother’s lips pressed together as she stirred the steaming tomato mix. “You know how important these things are. Your father may have secured a preliminary internship for you, but that’s still dependant on you, Olivia. On your own records and standing. It would pay for you to remember that.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  She drew in a noisy breath. “Yes, not yeah. Use your words properly, lest you sound uneducated.”

  “Yes, Mum.” I turned to head back upstairs.

  “Olivia? How are things between you and Ella? Elouise said you girls are
going through a rough patch.”

  My phone vibrated in my pocket. “I need to use the bathroom, Mum.”

  As I jogged up the stairs, I whipped the phone out of my pocket, and Logan’s name illuminating the screen made me smile.

  Are you there yet?

  Yes, I’m here. Wish I was there though.

  And wasn’t that the truth. At least I could hide from whoever was bothering me there. Kind of. Here I had no choice but to put up with them. My phone buzzed in my hand with another text from Logan.

  Which is here and which is there? If there means here, then I wish you were there too.

  I laughed and my response was completely unrelated, but something that had been playing on my mind since Central Night.

  Do you like living in town?

  Has its advantages. Why? You thinking of moving out of college?

  No reason. Just asking.

  The food’s better. Company’s quieter. Works out a little cheaper, especially if you share.

  That was a good point. I’d spent a bucket load of money lately—buying food to cook and eat in my room or eating out—when it was money I didn’t need to spend because the dorm fees covered my meals. Quietness was yet another great point. Sure we had a noise curfew at Oxley, but there was still always someone being loud in the courtyard or in the corridor, or knocking on my door. But those weren’t the main reasons I was thinking of moving out. With things the way they’d been lately, I didn’t exactly feel comfortable, and now that I knew those darn rumours were true, showing my face around Oxley wasn’t pleasant; even walking into my own hallway set my pulse racing, let alone into the dining hall. Maybe if I moved out, people would forget all about it, and I’d just slide into being ‘that girl who used to live here’, not ‘the finger-fuck girl’ or whatever crass name they’d thought of today. The rumours and memories would die down eventually.

  My phone pinged again and oops, I hadn’t responded.

  Wanna share? We’ve got a spare room.

  I’m not moving into the ‘bach pad’.

  Why not? We cook, clean, AND put our dirty underwear in the hamper.

  Eeew, Logan.

  A few minutes passed without a response, so I tossed my phone onto my bed and started unpacking. That last Thursday night at college had plagued my thoughts for the past few days. Even though evidence pointed toward everything being true there was a huge part of me that hoped maybe it was a coincidence. I plopped my laptop onto my desk and noticed a pink envelope. Slicing it open, I found a thick invitation inside. Bethanie’s wedding. The almost see-through paper was really pretty, but gee, she’d gotten in early. It was only April and the wedding wasn’t until October. I tossed it into my suitcase and continued unpacking my clothes. Once I’d finished, I glanced at my computer, but grabbed my tablet instead and lay down on the bed. Oh, this was divine. The beds at Oxley were pretty good, but nothing compared to the mattress I’d slept on every night for seventeen years. I turned the reader on and my phone buzzed.

  Liv …

  Yeah?

  I miss you.

  I couldn’t tell him I missed him too, or that his words made me smile. After what had happened on Central Night, I knew now more than before that Logan and I couldn’t happen. So instead, I typed out;

  I’ve been gone less than a day, Stalker Boy. Get over it.

  He sent back a simple,

  :P

  To which I replied with a cheeky smiley of my own.

  I’d only been reading for about thirty minutes when footsteps sounded on the stairs. Precisely the reason I went for a book over researching masturbation while sleeping. The type of websites that search was sure to bring up would be tricky to explain.

  “Well, if it isn’t my little girl.”

  I shot up off the bed and threw my arms around Dad’s neck. He hugged me back with a simple, loose arm around my waist. “Your mother said to tell you that dinner’s ready.”

  “Thanks.” I pulled away. “How was work?”

  “Busy. I had to push through a lot to get out on time.”

  Being home in time to eat with the family was a rarity, and the fact he’d managed it on my first night back made me feel all warm inside.

  “See you downstairs.” Dad disappeared down the hall and I traipsed down to the dining room.

  Neither of them were there yet, but the places were laid out, as were the heat mats for the hot dishes. A bottle of Pinot Noir marked the centre of our eight-seater table, and a vase overflowing with white tulips had been pushed down the unused end. I took a seat, spreading a napkin across my lap, and waited for my parents. Mum glided into the room with her oven mitts around a square dish which she set on one of the heat mats then disappeared into the kitchen, only to return with a second dish. Dad walked into the room just as she was taking a seat directly across from me.

  “How’s uni?” he asked.

  “It’s okay.”

  “Are you keeping involved?”

  “Of course.”

  Mum passed me the bowl of rice, from which I scooped two heaped spoonfuls into my bowl before passing it on to my father. I piled the chicken sauce on top of that and started eating. The best thing about being home for the break was the food. Mum was a fabulous cook, and when at college I missed the hearty and healthy eating. If I moved out I could eat like this all the time.

  “Your mother tells me that you didn’t make it onto the Student Representative Council. That’s a real shame, sweetheart.”

  Bang. There it was; that heavy feeling of guilt at being a disappointment. Thank goodness I had a mouthful of food to buy me a few moments. I nodded.

  “Well, make sure you keep up with everything else. Not having the presidency on your CV will be a disadvantage.”

  “Yes, I know.” I shovelled more food into my mouth, but it didn’t ward off the conversation. Dad was happy to let his dinner go cold while he grilled me.

  “I trust you’re keeping up with sport, and dorm politics. Still attending the Law Society functions?”

  I nodded again. Boy, nothing like cutting to the point. There was never any small talk at this table. I may as well air my moving out idea, since they knew about the presidency already. This could be the right time to float it, see what they thought. Maybe they’d warm to the concept by the time break was over.

  “I’d like to move off campus.”

  My mother’s wine glass clashed with the table as she set it down with too much force. “Absolutely not.”

  Dad’s gaze bore into me. “Why? What benefit is there in that?”

  I took a sip of the pale red to strengthen my courage. “The food is disgusting, so I’m spending a ton of money on decent snacks. Also, I can’t concentrate on my studies because of all the distractions, and Christian …” I couldn’t tell them about my social issues. The other reasons I gave were true too, but escaping the constant harassment was the only real reason I wanted out. And escaping that would help ease every other issue.

  My mother shook her head. She’d started before I even began speaking. “No, Olivia. That is a ridiculous idea. You need to be in college to build relationships and if you’re not involved in campus politics, then you need to be involved with the politics of the dormitory.” She blew out a strained breath. “Both would have been better, but that’s out of the question.”

  “She has no control over that now, Susan. Let it go.” I could have thanked my father, but I knew his words would have no effect. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, sweetheart. You need to live on campus where it’s close to the library and the lecture halls. If you move into town, the temptation to skip classes will be too great. All it takes is a missed bus; you can’t just walk to your lectures. It will only take that to happen a few times for you to fall behind, and most people who fall too far behind wind up dropping out. So no, it’s not going to happen.”

  “I won’t, Dad. You know how studious I am. I’ve never missed a class in my life and I don’t intend to start skipping now.” The
tips of my ears burned and I shook my hair down to cover it. It was almost true—I’d only ever skipped that one time with Logan, then again for the meeting with student welfare, but never before that.

  My mother started stacking dishes. “You are not moving out of college while we pay for your keep.”

  “Fine. I’ll get a job.”

  The glare she turned on me was final. “You will do no such thing. You have no time for work when you should be studying and building your CV. That is the end of this conversation.”

  I threw my napkin onto the table and stood. I was done with this crap anyway. I was nineteen and I wasn’t a child.

  ****

  Alone time wasn’t easy to come by those first few days. I was itching to research my affliction, but had to wait. Instead I checked my email several times a day for exam results, but they still hadn’t arrived. Maybe I had my dates messed up and they weren’t due yet anyway. I couldn’t remember if past me had opted to receive them in email form rather than via text. Today, three days into break, when I clicked my mail open there was a message from Student Services. I assumed that was what it would be.

  It was just a student newsletter.

  A second email was under the first, sent from my Torts professor. It would be results for the group assignment, no doubt about it. My tummy churned as I clicked to open and scanned the body of the email, but what I was looking for wasn’t there. Attachments; there were two of them. I clicked on the one that had the word results in the title. A strange feeling came over me; this wasn’t going to be good. We’d failed, I just knew it.

  I glanced toward my phone, thinking about texting Logan, then decided better of it and drew a deep breath to steel against whatever was inside the attachment. I focused on the screen. Fifty-two per cent.

  We’d passed, but only just.

  That meant my average had dropped for that class and I was in danger of falling below a credit. Not good when I was trying to raise my all my grade averages to HDs.

  This was why group assignments should be done as a group. Ella had stuffed something up pretty majorly to get us such a low mark, and if we were all working on it that would never have happened.