The Art of Letting Go (The Uni Files)

by Bloom, Anna

  17th September

  Yay! First day of University! Well, first proper day that does not involve being hideously drunk or puking from too much alcohol, nor hiding in my bedroom to avoid my rather attractive but equally aggravating neighbour.

  Meredith and I have met for breakfast. I cannot eat, though, I’m way too excited. So I just sip my coffee.

  “Are you on a diet?” she asks.

  “No, does it look like I am on a diet?” I poke my squishy middle to prove the point.

  “Why are you not eating?”

  Meredith is fast becoming my bestie. However, she does ask daft questions.

  “Because I’m not hungry,” I reply, adding an eye roll for good measure.

  “Who’s not hungry?” Ben asks as he saunters in looking annoyingly fresh in a blue shirt and dark jeans. Clearly he is not having a problem with lack of appetite. He is stuffing a whole doorstep of toast into his mouth.

  I stare at him in disgust.

  “What?” He mock shrugs around the overload of toast.

  “You’re repulsive.”

  “Not what you said the other night.” He gives me a wink, which makes me flush.

  “Really? Did you just say that?”

  “What?” he replies.

  I flip him the finger. Meredith watches us with an amused expression on her face. Meredith thought I was hysterical yesterday when I practically barricaded myself into my room so I could not be tempted to try and snog Ben again.

  That would have been dead embarrassing.

  “Lilah, would you like a coffee?”

  “Oh, yes, please, and a snog as well while you’re at it.”

  Maybe not. Best to act indifferent.

  “Dick,” I mutter under my breath, heading for the door grabbing my backpack as I go, purposely nudging him with my shoulder as I walk by. All I manage to achieve is knocking him off balance, which in turn makes him grab out for my squishy waist to balance against with fingers splayed along my midriff. I avert my gaze and duck around him.

  Complete and utter rubbish.– Thirty seconds in a room with him and I have managed to initiate some skin on skin contact.

  Excellent.

  Fountain Pen

  Howard, Howard. Where the hell is Howard?

  No, I am not lusting after yet another guy. Howard is the building our History classes are in. Thing is, none of us have brought along a map. No chance!

  We are way too cool for that!

  So instead, we just follow each other around in circles until finally I give up and head into the library. With a big sigh of exasperation I decide to ask for directions.

  It is just across the lawn, and quite pretty really. I try to slow my pace so I can gaze at the view, but Meredith tows me along by the elbow. Apparently, all of our aimless circling has made us late.

  Registration involves picking our modules for the year and signing our name.

  That’s it.

  Funny bit is we don’t actually get to pick any modules. As we are single honour students, we are told which ones to complete.

  Yay.

  Meredith and I sit together. Ben sits behind us, his long legs stretching out in front of him, tapping the leg of my chair for the duration of our time in the lecture room.

  A Barbie girl comes in smelling heavily of some pop-star perfume.

  “You’re that guy from the band?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Hi, I’m Barbie.”

  This is what it sounds like to me.

  “Hi. Ben Chambers,” he replies.

  I can’t see him, but I know he is giving her the lopsided smirk.

  I find myself swinging my chair onto the two back legs so I can get a bit closer to hear their conversation. I think she is asking him out.

  What a bloody floozy!

  I straighten up when there is a tap on my shoulder.

  That’s embarrassing.

  “Can I borrow your pen?” Ben asks.

  “Seriously, you did not bring a pen to the first day of term?”

  “No. Are you gonna lend or not?”

  Out of the corner of my eye I can see Barbie reaching for her biro.

  “It’s a fountain pen. Can you write with one of those?”

  Oh please, lord, tell me I did not just say that!

  The blue eyes stare at me, and then his brows give a slight sarcastic lift.

  “Oh, I am sure I can manage, just this once.” He smirks.

  “Dick,” I mutter under my breath, turning back around to hide my flaming red cheeks.

  18th September

  After registration yesterday and my little ‘fountain pen’ gaffe we were all trooping back across campus (I was still attempting to admire the view), when Ben suggested the three of us go for a drink at the student union bar. I was in two minds, part of me wanted to get back to the Guinea Cage and away from Ben as quick as possible. The other half of me wanted to find out what the student bar was like.

  “Come on, Lilah, what’s the worst that can happen? It’s only one pint of beer,” he’d taunted with his smirky half-lip-hitch.

  That’s true. What’s the worst that can happen?

  Meredith and I turned our feet to follow the path his were taking and trailed after him inside bar.

  The worst that can happen is that I don’t just have the ‘one pint’ as Ben suggests to the barman, Trev, with a commanding wave of the hand which makes my stomach take an alarming dive to an area that has not been utilised in a while. A long while.

  The worst that can happen is that I drink five beers and end up drunk, being groped against a tree in the middle of campus with my legs clamped around Ben’s waist.

  I am blaming Meredith. She should never have left me alone. Again.

  Lilah + Ben + Alcohol = Bad.

  During our little boozy afternoon sojourn in the bar Meredith was courted by a vast line of suitor’s who were all knocked out by her green eyes and flame hair combo. By the time we got up to leave and found that it was getting dark outside, she was royally smashed but perhaps not as much as me considering she managed to make it across campus without borderline assaulting someone. Meredith disappeared off into the dark shadows and left me meandering along after Ben who by this point, due to my inebriated state was looking even hotter than normal.

  Hot does not cover it. Scorching is the more accurate temperature description.

  So there I am, tipsy, against a tree, legs in inappropriate places, and I am just considering the unfastening of some clothing when thankfully my commonsense came back and gave me a hearty slap around the face. I pushed at Ben’s chest until he released me from his unconventional hold and then took a step back from him contemplating what to say to him.

  “Sh'tell him the truth,” Meredith had slurred at me before leaving me to my downfall.

  I should have, I should have told him about John and the simple fact I am not in a position to be groped against trees. Did I? Of course I bloody didn’t. I ran away like a big fat girl, leaving him standing there alone in the darkness probably thinking that he had been attacked by a complete lunatic.

  What’s that sound? Oh, hold on a minute. It must be my self-respect and dignity fleeing from campus.

  Evaluation

  Time to evaluate my first few days at University. So far I have:

  Been drunk excessively.

  Smoked excessively.

  Flirted with/kissed a sexy hot boy. Twice.

  Failed to pay any attention at all during first lecture due to eavesdropping on sexy hot boy’s conversation behind.

  Been home to my flat and caught by ghastly brother doing so.

  Not good. Not good at all, Delilah.

  Not
a very successful start to term. Hopefully things will improve tomorrow once lectures begin in earnest.

  We are studying lots of exciting topics like Ancient Rome, something about Athens and . . . hold on . . . I almost fell asleep there thinking about it.

  I have to remind myself that this is what I actually wanted. I chose to come here. So tomorrow there will be no flirting and no drinking. I can’t promise on the cigarettes. I would rather give in and have a ciggie than give in and throw myself at Ben like the wanton hussy that I apparently am.

  19th September

  I am winning. No alcohol has passed my lips today and I have not snogged anyone either—top marks all around.

  I did nearly fall off my chair in class as I tried to listen to whatever brainless drivel Barbie was whispering to Ben, until Meredith gave me a sharp elbow in the ribs.

  “What are they whispering about?” I hiss in her general direction whilst still balancing on two chair legs.

  “Get a grip, Lilah, they are looking at the primary source which we are supposed to be doing as well,” she hissed back.

  Whatever.

  20th September

  There is a flaw in my plan to ignore Ben.

  We are the only ones who smoke, which means this keeps happening:

  “Hey,” Ben says.

  Oh, for fuck’s sake!

  “Hey.”

  “Can I borrow a cigarette?”

  “Do you plan to give it back?”

  “No.”

  “Well then it is not borrowing is it?” I am being facetious but who cares?

  “Why are you hiding in a hedge?”

  “Why are you following me into a hedge?” I have my eyes closed to ignore him, but I know he is smirking.

  “I’m just enjoying the beautiful campus.”

  “Oh, go away, you thoroughly irritating person!”

  “No can do. I am quite attached to this hedge.”

  I can’t help it, I start to smile. It is bloody impossible not to.

  “Well I shall find somewhere else to smoke then.”

  “Am I annoying you?”

  “Yes, you’re breathing.”

  He slowly eyes me up and down. “Nice tracksuit. Have you been exercising?”

  “Fuck off.”

  “Charming.”

  Silence.

  “Listen, Ben, we don’t have to talk to each other just because we are the only ones out here.”

  “Guess not.” He gives a little shrug and stubs out his cigarette before wandering off in the direction of the library and I am left with a distinct urge to follow him.

  I don’t. I am maintaining some self-control but I find it best to come back into the dorm and barricade myself in. That way I can’t be tempted to go and loiter in hedges and flowerbeds.

  21st September

  It’s been a full week of lectures. I have to admit it is slightly more difficult than I anticipated. You actually have to do reading and stuff in preparation for the lessons, and once you are there you are expected to participate (which sucks). I wish someone had told me this before I had enrolled. I may not have bothered.

  I have always loved reading—my boxes of books give that away. It turns out that I am an amateur reader. I just like my books to sit there looking pretty, ready for me to dip in and out of them as I fancy. The reading lists accompanying the course outlines that were jovially given out by the crazy lecturers are enough to make even a hardened reader weep.

  Every time I get called on in class, I go bright bloody red. Not helped by the fact that yesterday during our lecture on Ancient Rome I suffered the most terrible coughing fit. The girl sitting on the other side of me— Emma, I think her name is—sympathetically offered me her bottle of water which I greedily guzzled. This successfully stopped the coughing but resulted in a very loud and impossible to disguise burp.

  There was a loud laugh from the chair behind me. Ben’s chair.

  I am trying to ignore Ben. I truly am, but it is kind of hard when he is always about, everywhere I go I see him. If I am walking one way across campus, I can guarantee he will be passing the opposite. If I am going up the library stairs, he will be coming down (which is embarrassing because I am normally hyperventilating) and if I go out for a cigarette, the door will bang a few moments later and he will soon be standing in front of me looking outrageously sexy blowing smoke in the air. I just stand there like a mute tongue-less nerd trying not to drool. He is going to think I am raving lunatic soon.

  Earlier, he came out of the bathroom wrapped only in a damp towel, which caused me to drop my plate of Ryvita all over the floor. He smirked as he walked past me into his room wafting whatever manly shower gel he uses into my nostrils.

  Twenty minutes later he emerged looking outrageously sexy. All done up boy fashion with a dark shirt, jeans, and hair artfully tousled, he gave us a wink and exited through the front door before anyone could ask with whom he had a date. Date?

  Date.

  He has a date?

  It’s only the first week of term! How does he have a date?

  Why does he have a date?

  Jesus! He was only backing me up against a tree a few nights ago! Really? Why?

  Answer: because he is ridiculously fucking hot and I have been ignoring him all week acting like he is some sort of scumbag because he kissed me when I was drunk. Twice.

  There is nothing worse than chastising yourself. It’s really bloody annoying and something I have to do often.

  22nd September

  7.00 p.m.

  Ben’s date must have gone really well because he has not come home. Not that I am listening for him. Okay, maybe a little bit. No, I’m not.

  I’m just sitting on my bed idly wasting away my Saturday, with my ear super glued to the wall. I don’t want to go into town in case I see Tristan. It’s a slim chance, but one I am not willing to take. I really don’t think that seeing my infuriatingly perfect brother tonight will do good things for my state of mind.

  I’m trying to remember when I started disliking my twin so much. I think it was around the time when we were fifteen and he started trying to shag all my friends. He stopped in the end, but only because he ran out of options once I started working at Dad’s bank. Tristan knows better than to try something on with one of Dad’s employees. That is a lawsuit waiting to happen.

  I might go and see what Meredith is doing.

  Town

  9.00 p.m.

  We are sitting in a pub on Putney High Street. It is a fab old-fashioned pub, which I can see becoming a firm favourite, but it smells strangely of old farts. That might be a contribution from the old man next to us.

  It seems Meredith has powers of persuasion that I cannot contend with. When I knocked on her door earlier and found her deeply engrossed in Eastenders, I had said that I was happy to just sit around at home, watch some telly or listen to music—anything at all. Anything that did not involve drinking too much or snogging someone I hardly know.

  One hour later we are on our second bottle of wine and I am starting to feel the effects.

  “So, Ben?”

  “Yes?”

  “Well, you like him, right?”

  “What on earth makes you think that?”

  “Um, you go bright red every time you see him, stare at him constantly, and have kissed him twice in seven days.”

  Bollocks.

  “I do not!”

  “I think the lady does protest too much!”

  “I am not protesting too much! I don’t even look at him if I can help it.”

  It’s true. I have been trying to keep my eyes averted at all costs, trying to ignore a very frustrating attraction that is starting to seep into my consciousness. I mean, it is
pathetic.

  Ooh, I wonder what Ben is doing now. I wonder if he is at the library. I wonder what T-shirt he will wear today. I wonder what he looks like in just pants. Ooh, I wonder what he looks like with no pants.

  Blush, blush, it is all deeply embarrassing. I am reverting to a teenager at a dramatic pace.

  “Babe, if that is you trying not to look at him, then you are doing a completely shit job.” She is only reaffirming what I already know.

  I need to make a stand. I look Meredith straight in the eyes.

  “Ben is clearly a player, and as such he holds no interest for me whatsoever. Just because I kissed him once, um, twice, does not mean I plan to do so again, ever. Ever.”

  There. I think that made my point quite clear.

  She is staring over my head, lips curved in a smile.

  “That’s a shame, Delilah. I was so planning on having a repeat performance soon,” says an amused sounding voice from above and behind me.

  I whip around to find Ben, a wicked look on his face, as he watches me blush what I know is a stunning shade of beetroot. Meredith laughs her head off as she pushes off her stool and stumbles to the bar, giggling like a hyena the whole way there.

  Nice.

  Ben scoots onto her bar stool.

  Why does it seem so much closer when he is on it?

  The table must have shrunk.

  He leans into me, shoulder touching mine, voice low. “You really think I am player?”

  I stare at the blues unsure what to say. No. Yes. I don’t bloody know. “Well, how was your date?”

  “Date?

  “Yes. You know, all dressed up and out for the night. The whole night?”

  I need to stop speaking.

  “Funny date, with three other male band members.”

  Oh.

  “Oh.”

  “Do you think you would like to go on a date sometime?”

  “Pardon?”

  “You know. Go out with me?” he asks with a nervous twiddling of his lighter.

  Say no. Say no.

  “Uh, yeah. I guess.”

  Meredith comes back with a pint for Ben and three whisky chasers. She gives me a blatant conspiratorial wink as she hands out the drinks.