Entering my room, Isabel followed me, slurping up her last few dregs of coffee. She dumped it in the bin before dropping down into my desk chair and swinging her legs back and forth. “So when are we next meeting up to work on our project? I feel like we haven’t focused on it properly in a while and I want to know what’s happening.”
I dropped my keys onto my desk and settled down on the edge of the bed. “Well I have my pieces recorded. I can talk to Casper and we can all meet up in the auditorium and listen to all the pieces on a loop and see how they sound? Comment on which pieces we liked and didn’t like something like that? We won’t get to use all pieces, which is a problem, so we’ll need to put a few pieces on the bench like a substitute.”
She hummed and rocked in the chair. “Could do,” she bit her lip in thought, “I’m a little intrigued to see what he’s got planned.”
I frowned at her words, “What do you mean?”
“He’s been quiet about what he’s got planned in the last few meetings and I can’t wait to see the actual results if any.”
I cocked my eyebrow but didn’t say anything as I set about making my bed. “I can’t believe that this time next month I’ll be packing my stuff and getting ready for a lovely, long stay with my family,” I stretched out the last word.
Isabel reached out and nudged me with her boot, “You don’t have to go back there after graduation, you know.”
I scoffed with a bitter little laugh, “Oh right, sure! I’ll just go out and buy myself a flat! Please! Help me with all these bags of invisible money!” I cried out, gesturing at the empty room.
She smiled endearingly at me, “I know, but you could always get a job. And I’m sure your dad would help you to set up on your own.”
“They won’t even sign my bloody savings account over to me, what makes you think they’d lend me start-up money? And even if they did, who’s to say anyone would hire me?”
“There’s no guarantee that anyone will get hired,” she shrugged. “You could always create the audio for some shows. There’s always work somewhere.”
“Sadly, writing the latest theme tune for the McDonald’s advert doesn’t really thrill me.” I knew I sounded bitter but I couldn’t help it. In the effort of following my dream and the things I loved, I would struggle to find a job.
“Oh stop whining!” Isabel chastised as she swatted my arm. “Everything will be fine, you’ll see. If anything else you might be able to persuade your dad to sign over your savings account to you at least. You might get a house share.” I hummed before rolling over onto my side. We were quiet for a few moments before she patted my thigh, “Alright misery guts, I’m off to get cracking on this assignment for next Monday and sadly, your bookshelf is ill-equipped for my textbook hacking needs!” she smiled at me as she stood up. “I’ll text you later, alright? Just keep your chin up.” She flicked me under the chin for emphasis before flashing another sweet smile my way and slipping out my bedroom door. I lie there, staring at the glossy wood for about ten minutes, debating on what to do with the rest of my day.
*
Friday evening couldn’t get to me soon enough. I was exhausted by the time my last lecture let out. Despite being in our twenties, the murmurings that it was Friday the thirteenth were not forgotten by the girls in my lectures. I dragged my feet to my dorm building and shoved my weight against the door. The warmth washed over me as I checked my mail. There were the usual flyers for discounts on pizzas, hotline numbers and that sort of stuff, but there was another little envelope stuffed down the back of my locker. I frowned and pried it out. My name wasn’t written on the front. I stopped halfway up the stairs and opened the envelope and slipped the card out.
I blinked in surprise that it was a card at all; it was a simple little thing made out of black card. I turned it over and couldn’t help but let out a surprised little laugh; on the front, in the shape of a heart, were about fifty odd red paperclips, glued onto the background. I flipped the card open to read what was inside but I didn’t find any words. As I peered closer I saw that there were notes and then it hit me. On both sides of the card, there was a piece of music written. I hummed the notes to myself and although it wasn’t perfect, it made me feel especially giddy. In the far corner a single chord in C major. That’s all I needed before I sprinted up the stairs and knocked on Casper’s door. It was 2 o’clock in the afternoon so he should have been awake, although I shouldn’t have been surprised when it took him about five minutes to answer the door. He looked as though he’d just rolled out of bed. He looked utterly adorable with his inky hair sticking up in all directions like he’d been electrocuted. He rubbed at his eyes and blinked at me, squinting. “Uh,” he grunted out, “It’s a bit early for house calls isn’t it?”
“Well you know me, I can’t keep my patients waiting,” I teased, cocking my head to one side, “You going to let me in? It’s cold out here.”
“It’s the hallway,” he deadpanned, “Its room temperature.”
“I didn’t mean the temperature, I meant this lack of hospitality you’re showing me,” I retorted with a smirk.
He rolled his tired eyes, “Alright come inside, but just … Don’t touch too much, okay? I need a shower.”
I edged into the room closing the door behind me as he disappeared to his own en suite. I couldn’t help but wonder why he bothered to use the communal showers if he had one of his own. I frowned in thought, not willing to entertain the idea that it was because of me, especially considering how one of those encounters had ended.
Shaking my head I went to sit back down on the desk chair adjacent to his bed. It looked rumpled and still had an air of warmth hanging onto it. I listened to the spray of the shower start up in the bathroom and I dropped my head back, taking in the rest of his room. Despite the few times I’d been calling at his door, I couldn’t help by jolt with the realisation that I didn’t actually know what his personal space looked like. The bland paintjob was covered by a variety of band posters. I didn’t think Casper would be the type. I smiled a little, it was like getting a sneak peak at his younger self –the guy who adored ‘30 Seconds to Mars’ and ‘Three Days Grace’. Not that they were bad bands. I quite liked them myself.
A single shelf above the bed was packed with books. Some looked like classic school-assigned books and a few were battered and well-read. His desk was neat and tidy, with only one textbook open in the middle. I was leaning over in his desk chair and scanning the CD’s in the rack when the lock on the bathroom door slid back. Warm, steamy air drifted out as Casper stepped back into the room, his wet hair shining like jet in the afternoon light.
“Feeling better?” I asked, cocking an eyebrow.
He towel-dried his hair before folding it over the radiator. “A little,” he grumbled as he crouched down in front of his dresser and looked for clothes, his butt and thighs covered by nothing but a hand-towel. I felt my cheeks heat up as he pulled on a pair of plain white boxers on before letting the towel drop completely.
The sunlight shone on his back muscles and I couldn’t help but stare. I was transfixed. I was glad to see him without clothes, even if for a moment. This way I got a proper look at his physique; he was lithe and toned, vague muscles lined his scarred arms and his thighs looked stronger bare then they did wrapped in baggy jeans. Speaking of, he quickly tugged a pair on, along with a long-sleeved shirt before smoothing his hands down over his arms, hovering at his wrists. Was he remembering his scars? I know I would. Every time I’d feel them my mind would race back to the incident buried inside them.
Clearing my throat I decided to break the silence. “So do all guests get a strip show, or am I just lucky?” I teased.
He shrugged his hunched shoulders, looking a little stiff as he turned to face me, “To be honest I … Sort of blanked that you were here.”
Was he serious? He literally saw me when he came out of the bathroom, how could he forget just by turning his back on me? I was about to say something, but as he stoo
d there in the afternoon sunlight looking almost lost, with water droplets running down his neck, I felt my chest tighten. “It’s okay. I space on a lot of things too.”
He knew I was lying. I could see it in his expression. Then this face softened and a small, delicate smile bloomed on his lips and I felt my heart stutter. I swallowed as he sat down on the edge of his bed and reached under it for a hair-dryer.
I leaned forward in the chair, “So what are you doing tomorrow? Plans?” I knew it was daft to ask, but I couldn’t help but pray for his answer to be ‘no’.
“None. Valentine’s Day sucks, so in answer to your next question ‘no’ I will not be going out anywhere with you.”
My heart felt like a lump of ice was stuck inside. I forced yet another smile –my cheeks were going to hurt by the time I ducked back down the hall to my own room –and cocked my head, “There you go again, crushing my big romantic plans to sweep you off your feet!” I whined dramatically, hoping that he didn’t see through the façade.
He gave a dry little laugh, toying with the hair dryer in his hands. “What can I say? There can only be one romantic in this room, and it cannot be you.”
“Why not?”
“Because there’s no one as romantic as me.”
Did he just wink at me? Was he … Flirting? When did he get so comfortable around me? It was barely even a week ago that he’d let me hold his hands –what had changed?
My mind wondered back over the last five days and I had to admit, despite how subtle some of the incidents were, the signs were there. He’d pressed a folded note with a pill into my hand the morning after I’d been unable to sleep and had a throbbing headache. In that one moment, I’d even felt his thumb brush my hand before he hurried onto his next lesson. Every little glance made me catch my breath, every time he touched my skin, I felt as though I’d been set on fire, and whenever he smiled my way I melted inside.
He had bought another Chinese take-away, this time including the chicken spring rolls I loved, and we’d watched a horribly cliché film I can barely remember. It was just nice to sit alongside one another on my bed, eating out of plates laden with delicious food and actually talking to one another. We hadn’t touched –but it was nice. The morning before last, he’d pulled an all-nighter in the art department by himself, so I’d bought him a coffee I grabbed after my first lecture. I’d ask the girl behind the counter to scribble a little note on the collar. She’d been only too happy, grinning the entire time. I’d hovered in the doorway of his class as he read the collar with the words ‘There’s no sugar –you’re sweet enough!’ printed out in black ink. It was sickeningly cliché, but he was sweet and I wanted to tell him. I’d grinned when he’d caught me looking-in, raised the cup in a salute before drinking deeply with a gleam in his eyes.
I didn’t know if he felt the same way about me, but sitting in that chair and watching him flirt with me in his usual sarcastic way, made me want to jump, scream, and explode with joy. I couldn’t. I refused to let him win. The whir of the hairdryer broke through my musings. I sat back in the chair and watched. Within five minutes most of it was dry, expect for a stubborn clump at the back of his head that he didn’t seem able to reach no matter how many times he dipped his head between his knees.
“Fuck!” he cursed out loud as he tossed the dryer onto the carpet. He raked his hands roughly through his hair before sighing, “It’ll have to do.”
“Do you … uh … want me to help?” I asked, gesturing to the back of my head. “Your hair, I mean, if it’s bugging you?”
He looked up at me and seemed to debate for a little while, before shrugging. “Just –you know –be careful.”
I moved out of the chair and edged over to the bed. I knew what he really meant by that; he meant that I needed to try and not touch him too much. It was an unspoken agreement. Despite the sarcastic flirting from time-to-time and vague moments of touching, nothing much else had changed. In a way I was glad –I didn’t want him to change.
I shuffled around to kneel on the bed behind him, and started to dry his hair for him. I didn’t touch his scalp, I just combed my fingers lightly through his hair. I wasn’t paying attention as my finger brushed over his ear. He jerked away from the bed, his breathing hard as he cupped his ear against his head. I froze, waiting for his outburst. He looked at me and then shook his head. He swiped his coat up from the end of his bed and shrugged it on. “Come on then!” he sighed in an exasperated manner as he held his door open.
I didn’t ask where we were going but I grabbed my own coat and hurried on after him.
We didn’t go far; just down along the high street and popping into a few shops. I didn’t ask what the reason was for coming out, but I could feel his Valentine’s card burning a hole through my pocket. I wanted to ask him about it but he seemed edgy. Silence seemed to be our safety net. I wasn’t about to cut a hole in it for the sake of conversation.
“What do you think about the cinema?” Casper asked dryly as we walked into the coffee shop.
“I like the idea of it more than the experience,” I stated, “All those sticky floors really piss me off.”
He looked at me as though I’d grown another head. His mouth hung open in silence shock before he rolled his eyes, “God, give me strength to put up with your mindlessness.” He turned toward me in the queue, a stern look hardening his eyes, “I meant, genius, do you want to –you know –go?” he trailed off, his gaze looking anywhere but at my face.
I’m glad he wasn’t because the grin I had would light the Eiffel Tower for a week. I hummed and tilted my head in thought as we moved along to the counter. “Well I mean I was supposed to have a date,” I shrugged dramatically, “Well, I don’t mind blowing it all off for you, if you don’t.”
“Oh right. I didn’t know you were busy,” he grumbled under his breath, turning back in the queue. I frowned; did he really not know when I was joking?
I chose to scoff and laugh a little, “Please, I wasn’t busy; like anyone would ask me out let alone on Valentine’s Day.”
I could have sworn I heard him mutter ‘I would’ before he straightened up to his full height. “Good,” he nodded, “Then you won’t mind coming out with me, would you?”
I jerked my head to look at him. Was he serious? He wanted to go out with me on Valentine’s Day of all nights? I felt my mouth hanging open. “Er … You want to … Go out with me?”
He sneered and shook his head, “Don’t be daft! I just don’t want to be surrounded by people in their dorms having sex or about to have sex, and I don’t want to go out on my own and look like a creepy weirdo.”
“Well no more so than usual,” I interjected with a smirk.
He nudged himself against my arm with a glare but I could see that there was no real heat behind it. “It’s not a date,” he added a little stiffly.
“I know. I won’t treat it as such.”
“Good.”
“So what movie would you want to go and see?”
He shrugged, “There hasn’t really been anything out that looks remotely good.”
“Not even that ‘Big Hero 6’ movie?” I asked with a frown. I’d quite liked the look of that one myself.
“Yeah that one does look pretty cool. Might see it, might not.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, “You want to just let it all be a surprise?” I asked as I stood up to the counter. That was one way to go about a not-a-date; just seeing where the wind takes you. I stood up to the counter and placed my usual order.
Casper looked at me with a challenging gleam in his eyes, “Why not?”
I felt my lips pull up into a smirk as my coffee was handed to me and Casper’s was almost dropped onto the countertop. He glared over at the girl behind the counter who curled her lips into a sneer at him. I cleared my throat and raised my steaming cup in salute to him, “So, to our non-date then?”
Casper tapped his cup against mine, “To our non-date.”
*
I
shouldn’t have been worrying about what I should wear that night, but I couldn’t help but feel my heart speeding against my ribs. Despite the fact that Casper had seen me at my worst, I wanted him to see me looking more presentable.
As I finished tying up my converses a low knock came from my door. I grabbed my coat and slipped it on before opening the door to reveal Casper standing there in a pair of the usual dark jeans, short dark jacket and thick-soled black boots. His expression was guarded but I didn’t mind as I slipped my key-card into my back pocket. “Ready?” I asked as I stepped out into the hallway. He nodded his head and stepped back so that I didn’t bump into him. I didn’t mind that he needed to take the physical contact slow. He was forcing himself to get to grips with it for the most part, but I didn’t want him to do it for me. He needed to make the progress for himself.
We walked down the hallway and down into the open air of the campus. We trekked through the main reception and swiped our key-cards to enter the outside world. We walked down to the cinema side-by-side, our arms brushing against one another every so often. It was reassuring when he didn’t flinch away. We didn’t talk as the cinema came into view but he did go out of his way to reach out ahead of me and open the door. I felt my cheeks tinge pink as I ducked into the warmth. Casper brushed against my back as I stopped to look up at the display board.
“The movie’s on in about twenty minutes. You don’t mind waiting, do you?” I asked as I let my head lull to the side so I could see Casper’s profile; his skin glowed in the florescent lights and there wasn’t even a trace of facial hair on his smooth cheeks. I wanted to feel those cheeks under my lips but I couldn’t. I caught his slight nod before I went over to the counter and purchased the tickets before turning to Casper and beckoning him over.
Caspers Ghosts Page 14