by Shayn Bloom
“Boy,” I repeat, staring back levelly. “You’re a boy, Gabriel – not a man. You’re only seventeen. I don’t know how things are done at Magasant, but in the rest of the country an adult is eighteen or older. You’re still a boy.” I mean this as a joke, or okay – yes, a takedown. His arrogance is beginning to annoy me.
“I will show you I’m a man,” Gabriel says, his tone deadly serious even as a smirk overtakes his lips. “And perhaps I won’t even let you let me.”
There is no mistaking what he means by this, and I feel my whole body clench in tight, agonizing delight. That part of my body – yes, down there – is salivating for him. Geez, I’m already wet!
Gabriel’s smirk widens at my stunned expression of glee, and he leans back in his chair, crossing his legs and folding his hands on his robes. “You should be reporting me to campus police, shouldn’t you?” he says softly, his eyes never leaving mine. “After what I just threatened to do.”
I swallow deeply, my gulp noticeably traveling down my throat. “I’m not scared of you, Gabriel,” I tell him, only half lying. I’m only half aware of what I’m saying, too. The other half of my consciousness is telling the place between my legs to shut the fuck up, because it’s screaming for him. It wants him. Now.
“You have things to tell me,” I continue. “Promises to keep. I want to know more about you. About what you’re up to here. Where you’re from and why you plan on nosing into other people’s business, least of all my own.” There. I showed him. If he knows what’s good for him he’ll back off.
Gabriel leans forward. Turquoise eyes flash dangerously. “I promised you nothing,” he says, enunciating the final word. “Nothing, Nora. I don’t exist for you to like me. I don’t exist for you to tolerate me. I asked for your help paying the driver because I’m unfamiliar with your currency. That is all our exchange ever needed to be.”
I don’t back down. Geez, I practically need to fan myself right now. He’s so provocative! “Your eccentricities are inviting,” I tell him honestly. “You can’t pretend you don’t stick out in a crowd.”
“I didn’t invite you,” he tells me, sounding annoyed. “You invited yourself, Nora. You called after me as I was leaving.”
“What’s your point?” I ask.
Gabriel raises his eyebrows. “My point, Nora, is I am who I am. What you see and hear is what you will see and hear. I’m not here at Evergreen to make friends and have people love me. I’m here on business. This is my job. Being here, doing this. And I’m very good at my job.”
I lean forward to match him. “And you will find,” I begin, “that I’m very good at my job, which is now to learn everything I can about your job. My business is discovering your business.”
Gabriel stands. “I have to leave.”
“Wait,” I say hastily. “You –”
“I know,” he interrupts, gazing around the room as though worried that armed guards are about to crash through the windows and grab him, “but I have to leave now.” His hand fastens around the short, thin stick in his robe pocket, then he releases it as he glances back at me, suddenly nervous. “We can talk later, Nora.”
“I don’t have your number,” I say hurriedly, standing too. “Give it to me and I’ll send you a text.”
“I don’t have a phone,” Gabriel tells me, his mischievous smile returning. “Don’t worry, I’ll find you.” Before I can say another word he’s gone. Dispatched like black robes caught in a high wind.
* * *
I’m walking back to my dorm. The sun is setting fast into a multicolored sky. My brain is whirring crazily, trying to remember everything Gabriel told me. I can’t figure him out. What did he mean by “I will find you?” How can he? True, a school of five thousand students isn’t the biggest ever. But it’s still hard to find somebody without a cell phone number. I’m baffled by Gabriel.
And his arrogance! What gives him such a big head? Sure, he’s pretty – okay fine, stunningly pretty – but is that enough to warrant such self confidence? Maybe for boys it is. For girls it’s definitely not. I find myself agitated and annoyed by Gabriel’s command over my feelings.
Geez, I just met the boy and I’m already a mess. Well, not quite a mess. But pretty hot over him. My wayward thoughts stemming through my brain, I walk back to dorm building C and up to the third floor and into my room.
I’m relieved to find Mom and Dad left. I knew they would by now, of course, but there’s always that lurking worry they may be just around the corner. They’re gone for good it seems – for three months, anyway. Despite my wanting them to leave, my heart twists at the thought. Three months. My stomach twists at exactly the same time and luckily the pain distracts me from my feelings.
I wince as I open the door to my room.
“Hi,” says a voice.
Walking inside, I see a thin girl with bobbed hair and glasses sitting on the bed opposite mine. A MacBook Air is open on her crossed legs. “Hi,” I say in return, smiling happily at my new roommate. I’m glad to have a real, solid distraction from thoughts of Gabriel for at least a few minutes.
Chapter Two
“I’m Kiri,” says Kiri, stretching out a hand. “Nice to meet you roomie.”
I shake her hand. It’s warm. “I’m Nora.”
I know we’ll get along great. We’re just past introductions and I already know it. It’s my intuition, and my intuition is usually right. Hopefully it’ll help me with Gabriel. Shit! I’m supposed to be taking a break from thinking about him. So much for that…
“I was so relieved when I saw this,” Kiri remarks, gesturing to my crate full of books. “A reader is my kind of person, and you’ve got some good stuff here. Er – I only peeked, I swear! Books say so much about their readers.”
“I know what you mean,” I respond. “You can borrow any of them whenever you like. God knows I’ll be too busy reading textbooks to get into any of them, but still. Had to bring them. It was…” I trail off, looking for the right phrase.
“Wishful thinking,” Kiri chimes in, smiling under her glasses.
“Yes,” I say, beaming back.
Geez, we’re already finishing each other’s sentences.
Putting her MacBook Air aside, Kiri stands before digging through the crate. “I saw you had…” Boy, she must have really dug deep. But I don’t mind. I’m delighted with my new friend. “Here it is!” she says. She pulls forth Dinner at the Homesick Restaurant. “I’ve wanted to read this forever!”
“Take it,” I tell her. “It’s a really good book. I’ve already read it, but I was thinking about reading it again. You know, instead of studying.”
She points to the shelf above her desk where a row of books is neatly organized. “Feel free to take any of mine. I’m in the same boat, I’ve already read about half of them. But – I don’t know – couldn’t be without them I guess.” She shrugs disarmingly at me, her eyes twinkling behind glasses.
* * *
I awake the next morning to rain. I hear it pattering lightly on the window. Blinking my sticky eyes, I turn over in bed to face the room. Kiri is already gone, dispatched into the new day. Panic striking me, I glance at my alarm clock before realizing it’s not set up yet. I jump out of bed and grab my phone
Phew! It’s only 8:07. My first class isn’t until 10:00. Close one – well, not really. I have plenty of time. But not enough to go back to sleep. Staring around, I realize how little unpacking I’ve done so far.
Besides my mother making the bed and my father setting up everything involving a plug, nothing is unpacked. I meant to unpack last night after dinner with Gabriel, but Kiri and I got lost in conversation until the day was done. She’s such a cool person. We’re going to be great friends. I just know it.
Grabbing my toiletries bag, I go to the bathroom. Once there, I can’t help but sigh into the mirror. A train wreck is more appealing. My hair is a mess and my eyes are too bright, looking fevered.
Gently, I put in my contacts. This is a routine I
keep every night and morning – take them out, put them in, respectively. Keeps my eyes fresh. My contacts in, the brightness of my eyes dimmed, I take a shower.
The hot water feels so good against my skin, doing more to wash away the emotional mess of yesterday than anything yet. I shampoo liberally and focus my eyes on the faucet, letting the water fill them and clean them. For a moment my contacts blur in the rush of water, but then resume their place so my vision is restored.
I’m one of those girls that must hand dry their hair after every shower. Sorry – I just am. I hate, hate, hate walking around with wet hair. Makes me feel cold. Standing over the sink, I gaze at myself as I dry. Once finished, I wrap a towel around my waist and head back into my room.
Dressing hurriedly – for now it’s just after 9:00 – I find my backpack and a few notepads. I’m almost to the door when I realize I’ve forgotten something. Turning back, I find a bottle of perfume. Spraying myself liberally, I breathe through my nose. Perfect.
I’m gone.
But then I’m back.
It’s raining outside and I forgot my umbrella. Despite my relatively early start, time is becoming of the essence. Running down the stairs now, I push open the door and spread the umbrella wide, just managing in time before my newly dried hair is drenched. They should really have an awning.
Walking under my umbrella, I bring my class schedule up on my phone. First up, English 371: Victorian Era Literature. This should be a fun class. Lots of poems and short stories and such. Trying to remember the right building and the right room, I go to the dining hall for breakfast.
As though on cue, once I’m outside the dining hall my stomach lurches painfully. So painfully I grab myself in surprise. Without thinking I turn away. No breakfast for me this morning. All it took was a whiff of eggs and batter for my stomach to almost mutiny on me.
* * *
The classroom is fairly typical, with a podium and white board at one end and a load of chairs facing them. I’m the first one here. I stop in the doorway, staring at the plaque beside the door. Yes, this is the right room.
My gaze falls to the many empty seats. A big decision awaits me. Wherever I sit will not only determine where I sit for the remainder of the term, but may determine my grade. I read somewhere students who sit in the front get the best grades. Those in the back? The worst. Refusing to get too hung up on this, I choose a seat in the middle by a window overlooking a green lawn.
Setting my umbrella on the sill, I sit down, regretting I didn’t bring some water or tea. My body could use fluid right now if not food. Attempting to distract myself, I gaze into the rain. It doesn’t work. I’m brought back with a stab of nausea in my stomach. I wonder if I should see a doctor. Maybe somebody can prescribe me anxiety medication.
The door opens and another student walks in. I check my watch. It’s five till. People are cutting it late. But the stream picks up, and before long the room is filled with the creaking sounds of furniture as people take their seats. I wonder if I’m the only lowerclassmen here – this is a 300 level course after all.
Finally, the door opens and a short, grey, older gentleman walks in with a folder under his arm. He waves somewhat awkwardly to the class at large on his way to the podium. Once there, he looks at the class over the top of his glasses. “No,” he says. “This – this isn’t right. Everybody up!”
Blinking in surprise, I gaze around. Everyone is looking as surprised as I feel.
“Up, up!” the professor says. “Get all of your chairs in a circle. Spread the flotsam to the side, there you go now,” he adds, as one boy gets up and starts pulling his chair to the side. “Easy does it!”
In a matter of minutes we’re all up and replanted, this time in a circle. Leaving the podium behind, the professor pulls up his own chair and gestures for two of the students to spread apart. Without hesitation he takes the space between them and sits, a smile making his lined face more so.
“That’s better,” he says. “I like this arrangement – a circle of chairs. Seems to make students more inclined to talk!” The class nods along with him, waiting for what’s to come. “My name is Robert Renaus. I’m the Chair of the English department here at Evergreen. You may call me either Professor Renaus or Dr. Renaus. Questions?”
Silence. People are staring at him, unsure of what to expect. Will he be tough? How much reading will he assign? “No questions?” Dr. Renaus asks, sounding genuinely surprised. A boy sniggers. “In that case, we’ll continue to the coursework and syllabus.” Opening his folder, he passes a stack of papers to the girl sitting next to him and from there it circles around. “We’ll be studying English literature in the Victorian Era – a period spanning the entirety of Queen Victoria’s life, roughly from 1830 to 1900.
“It was a time of tumultuous upheaval in Europe – an old theme even then, but what’s so fascinating in the Victorian Era wasn’t that there was upheaval, but that it was upheaval brought by socioeconomics rather than warfare,” Dr. Renaus remarks, looking around impressively. “The rise of industrialization not only decimated the landscape, but also made millions of people into little more than cogs in a great machine. The suffering industrialization brought to England led to some of the most beautiful works the English language has ever encountered.”
For some reason I feel alright all of a sudden, my nausea momentarily distracted. Taking out my notebook and a pen, I lean back in my chair and wait as the stack of syllabi makes its way to me.
* * *
The rain has stopped. I’m walking to the dining hall, hoping this time my attempt to take in some nutrients won’t be a complete failure. I’m wrong. No sooner do I reach the doors than I turn back, feeling sick. The distraction of class notwithstanding, my nausea has returned twofold. I take refuge on a bench under a tree.
After giving some background on why the Victorian Era was so inspiring for writers and poets, Dr. Renaus went over the syllabi and then assigned reading. By then there wasn’t much time left, so we were dismissed early. I almost wish class had gone on all day. Then I wouldn’t be in so much pain. It’s idleness that allows me to feel it.
I think of Kiri. Is she back from class yet? Geez, she must have an early one if she was gone before I woke. But thinking of Kiri makes me think of him – of Gabriel, and with him I have no answers whatsoever. What on earth makes him so arrogant about everything? And what is he about? He’s so different somehow. What I really want to know is how he will find me. He said he would – said he didn’t need a number, or didn’t have a phone. One or the other. Or both.
Sighing, I try to distract myself from my nausea by gazing around. This really is a beautiful campus. Evergreen State College even has its own beach, a stretch at the base of Puget Sound. Maybe I should go sometime.
With him, my alter ego quips.
No, I retort. By myself!
Ask him out! my alter ego exclaims.
“No,” I say aloud, unawares.
A loud pop sounds right next to me.
“No what?” asks a voice.
I gape at him. “Gabriel! I – you!”
“Sorry,” Gabriel says, unabashed. “I do that – make a popping noise with my lips. Done it since I was a kid. Like this,” and he pops his lips, the sound exactly like the one I just heard. “So no what?”
“Nothing,” I lie. Has he grown more beautiful in a single day? He must have. But he’s no less ridiculous looking.
Gabriel’s flowing black robes of yesterday have been switched out for flowing green robes today, the color meshing wonderfully with the blond of his hair and the white of his smile. I gape at the Adonis before me in unrestrained appreciation. Why the fuck weren’t boys this hot talking to me in high school?
“Tell me,” Gabriel pushes. “I can see you’re lying. It’s one of my pow – skills,” he corrects. “Telling if people are lying or not. I’m very good at it. I want to know what or to whom you were disagreeing with just now all by yourself.” He gestures to the empty space surroun
ding us.
I sigh my surrender. “Fine,” I say, gesturing away my dissonance. “Well, I – I couldn’t decide whether I should allow you to take me to the beach sometime. You know, the one right through the woods. Part of me wants to allow you to take me, but my other half doesn’t. She’s stubborn.”
Gabriel cocks his head at me. “Is she? I’m not worried – I’m sure I can deal with her.” For some reason, he words make me want to gulp. “I may be mistaken,” he continues, the white of his smile disarming, “did I ask you to the beach? Because if I did I have forgotten. Or were you assuming?”
“Assuming,” I respond, smiling back sweetly. “It’s the place to go here, anyway – everybody goes. And besides my roommate, you’re the only person I’ve met so far. I can’t just go asking a stranger. So I guess I’m stuck with you,” I say, trying to sound as forlorn and resigned as possible.
“Stuck with me,” Gabriel repeats, nodding at the idea. “I like that. Makes me think I can get away with more. Maybe I will.”
Oh shitballs.
“You know, Nora,” he says, “you can go alone if you must go. I wouldn’t want my sad existence to distract from your wonderful day.”
“That’s okay,” I respond, “I’m used to having my day distracted.” As though on cue, a stab of nausea hits me and I wheeze, grabbing my thin stomach.
Gabriel’s shrewd expression turns to alarm. “Are you okay?”
I nod silently with closed eyes, a long breath expelling from my lungs. “I think so… it’s anxiety. I didn’t know I had it but apparently I do. Going to school, being away from home for the first time, leaving my parents – something is causing it. I can’t even eat. I’ve tried twice today and both times I couldn’t.”
“You must eat, Nora,” Gabriel says sternly. “You need nutrients to survive.”
I blink away my dissonance. “I know that,” I say. “But, like, seriously – I feel like I’m going to throw up if I eat. I thought yesterday was going to be the worst, but today is worse. I hope the trend doesn’t continue.”