Unexpected Lover: College Romance Book 1

by Scarlett Archer

  “Come inside. Relax while you can.”

  I lead him into the living room, where we both throw ourselves onto the sofa. Peter puts his arm over her shoulder and she leans into him, loving how they fit together. They’re just so in sync.

  “I forgot to tell you earlier, but my dad is taking me camping for about a week.” Peter tells her, casually.

  “Oh? Where?”

  “No clue. He likes to keep that part a surprise.”

  “Well, I guess that it’s a good opportunity to talk to your dad about changing your degree.”

  “Yeah, it’ll be good. He’s always really relaxed when we’re outdoors. It’s his element, you know? So, I’ll take the acceptance letters with me a show him then.”

  “When do you go?”

  “Day after tomorrow.”

  Oh. I didn’t expect that. If he’s going for a week, then he’ll be back the day before spring break is over.

  “Maybe I could come over tomorrow? We could go to the movies or something?” He suggests.

  “I wish I could, but I’ve got to go to work. I already forgot to go in today. They’d kill me if I asked for the day off.”

  “You forgot to go in?” He asks, shocked. “I always thought you were the super organised type, who was never late to class and never missed work.”

  “I am!” I protest. “Or, I was. Until you came along.”

  He puts a hand over his heart, pretending to be so offended that he might faint.

  “How very dare you.” He says, in a British accent.

  I don’t really understand the joke, but I can tell he wants me to laugh, so I do. I don’t even care that I have no idea why I’m laughing. His eyes light up, and I feel like my heart will implode. What did I do to be so lucky?

  What did I do to have all this taken away from me so soon after finding it? It’s indescribably unfair.

  “Do you like camping?” I ask, hoping to stop my thought process from progressing further.

  “Not really, but my dad thinks I love it. So, I pretend that he does. It’s good for us to spend that time together. I can always talk to him about anything.”

  He looks at his watch and then back at me. I can tell that he’s thinking about leaving and kissing me at the same time. I take away the thoughts, by planting my lips on his and we kiss. He leans into me, and I let myself fall backwards on the couch.

  I feel like we’re one person. I feel as though we’d both have to break in two if we broke this kiss. I don’t want to break into two. I want to remain whole forever. I want to be a part of him for the rest of my life.

  What a cruel world this is, where I have found the person that completes me, only to have him taken away. I know I will feel empty. I don’t think anyone could make me feel the way that he does. I will forever be haunted by dreams of him, and who were together. It hurts to imagine him going, and even more so to imagine never seeing him again.

  “I need to go.” He says, pulling away from me, and ripping out a section of my heart with him.

  “Now?” I ask, sounding as desperately broken as I feel.

  He looks down on me with utter sadness and I try for a brave smile.

  “We’ll see each other before I leave. Come around tomorrow after work, ok?”

  I nod and he stands up and walks to the door. I follow him and as he leaves, he gives me one last kiss. I watch as he walks out onto the street and disappears from view.

  I close the door and do nothing to stop the sobbing that follows. I must be tired, because I’m really not the type to cry over a boy, but I’ve never felt this way about one before. I never felt this way before, period.

  I wonder if he feels the same way? I think, by now, I can quite confidently say that he’s not doing this just pass the time over spring break, because why else would he invite me to meet his parents?

  I climb the stairs, tears still streaming down my face and I take all my clothes off and climb into bed. I just want to drown in the duvet and never have to face the reality that tomorrow I will be one-day closer to having Peter leave me. I can’t handle that.

  I’ve never felt to topped up with emotion. I’m filled with sadness at the thought of him leaving, happiness at our time together, awkwardness at the meal we had with his parents and despair that I might have to spend the rest of my life alone.

  I feel a headache coming on, and I can hear every thrum and clang of the house. I press a pillow over my ears and try to fall asleep, but it’s a struggle today.

  I can’t clear my mind. I can’t empty it of the worries, and so it won’t relax and let me sleep. I try to imagine myself on a beach with Peter, just lounging in some deck chairs and drinking beer. I try telling myself that no matter where he goes, we will always be together. We will always find each other, and we will always work to spending as much time together as possible.

  I imagine us moving into a house together after our wedding day and having little children running around our feet. I realise at this moment that I’m well on my way to being one of those creepy stalker women, and I have to get rid of these thoughts too, for fear of becoming some crazed obsessive.

  I wake up, without even realising I’ve fallen asleep. I grumble about having to be awake and climb out of bed, knowing that if I allow myself to lounge for much longer, I’ll never get out, and I can’t miss another day of work.

  I stalk to my bathroom and have a quick shower, letting the cold water hit my face so that I can wake up properly. I shiver, and switch it to warmer water, before washing and climbing back out, feeling awake and refreshed. I make my bed, pull on my work clothes and then sit down on my bed, remembering last night.

  And it hits me that he’s leaving tomorrow, for an entire week, which is longer than I’ve known him for. Will it be torture? Will I be able to spend that much time without him? What happens if I go stir crazy because he’s all I can think about, and he’ll be so out of reach.

  I might not even be able to text him. I doubt his father is the type to go camping in a resort. They will probably be in a mountain somewhere, out of the way, and away from any phone signal. I don’t even know where to start worrying about that one.

  I need to take my mind off things, so I leave for work ten minutes early, hoping Mr. Jones will be there to let me in. I leave the house and walk the few blocks to my work and knock on the door. Mr. Jones’s head appears around the kitchen wall and he smiles broadly at me.

  He opens the door and ushers me in, locking it behind me.

  “Glad to see you remembered you had work today.” He says, smiling.

  “I’m so sorry about yesterday. I got… uh, distracted.” I apologize, burning with embarrassment.

  “Yeah, I guessed you would. I don’t blame you, I can tell you’re smitten, but in the future, I’d appreciate it if you turned up on time and did your shift.”

  “Absolutely. It’ll never happen again. I swear it.”

  “Well, if you swear it, I guess I have to take your word.” He laughs and moves back into the kitchen.

  I follow. I knew he wouldn’t be too angry, since I’ve never been late or called in sick, but I still feel dreadful for it. I’m not the person who misses work. I’ve let other Isobel take over my life now, and it’s starting to interfere.

  “Don’t worry about it, girl.” He says, seeing my face. “It happens to the best of us.”

  I nod, still embarrassed, but feeling slightly better about my situation. He points to the counter with all the unbaked bread, and I set to work putting it in the oven, ready to be served later on today. While that is baking, I start to refill the condiments and napkin holders. I really need to go above and beyond to make up for yesterday’s absence.

  Minutes later, Julianna arrives and she smiles at me.

  “Glad to see you remembered. Was going to call you to tell you to detach yourself from your boy toy.”

  I blush harder and she laughs at my discomfort.

  “Hey, Jules, can I talk to you about something?” I ask,
hoping we can get a quick chat in before doors open.

  “Of course, what is it?”

  We both begin setting up tables as I explain why I’m so worried, and the lie I told Peter, and how he’s moving away soon.

  “Oh wow. That’s quite a lot to take in.” Jules says, as she places ketchup and a napkin holder on a table. “So, you’ve been pretending to be someone else this whole time?”

  “Only kind of.” I say, “I told him I work at a diner, which is true. I just also told him I wasn’t a college student.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I didn’t want to be ‘Isobel, shy student.’ I wanted to be ‘Isobel, independent and confident.’ I didn’t think it’d land me in this mess. I was only really going for a one-night stand, since I’ve never had one before.”

  “Oh, belle. You’re so daft sometimes. You’re perfect the way you are. And from what I’ve seen and heard of Peter, I think he wouldn’t care.”

  I know she’s right, but how should I have known that before we hooked up? I didn’t expect to like him. I certainly didn’t expect it to go past the first night. And now, here I am, infatuated and living a lie.

  “My grand advice would be to tell the truth.” Jules says. “That’s the only way out of this mess.”

  “But it won’t fix him leaving.”

  “No, it won’t, but you can still build a relationship, but you can’t do that when your entire relationship is based on a lie.”

  Again, she’s right, but it kind of stings to know that my tiny lie can be the cause of such distress.

  I should never have done it. I shouldn’t have tried to become another Isobel. I shouldn’t have lied to another human being just so that I could feel different about myself. It was such a childish move, and now I’m going to have to come clean and it’ll be so embarrassing.

  “Ok. I’ll go after work today.” I say, trying to plan exactly what I’m going to say.

  It’ll have to be super apologetic, so that he knows I’m not messing around. I don’t want him to think I’m not sincere, but I also don’t want him to think I’m super pathetic. I’ll have to come up with something super good to get out of this one.

  “No, come to mine after work. We’re long overdue a wine and pizza night.”

  It’s been at least a month since I last went over for just a chill night, so I can’t really say no, but Peter goes camping tomorrow. I’ll really be risking it if I wait until tomorrow morning.

  “I can’t stay late. I need to see Peter today, because he’s going away tomorrow.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re out before your boyfriend’s bedtime.”

  I laugh, just as the first customer arrives. We begin to work, only talking to customers and to Jones and Jessica when we need to. The diner becomes packed and we work ourselves into a sweat making sure that everyone is served and each customer is happy.

  I really want to take my break, to delve into my mind and worry about how Peter’s degree change might truly be the end of our relationship, but it’s too busy. I forego my break, despite Jones’ protests, and keep the diner running smoothly with Jules at my side.

  My body is so busy, that my mind has no time to consider what things would be like if I spent the rest of my life mourning the one who got away. I have always laughed at those films where they talk about letting the one they love slip between their fingers, but I was so naive then. I didn’t know what love was. I never thought I’d fall in love and then lose it almost as quickly.

  I feel like I’m living in a movie. I don’t feel like this is real at all. Maybe I imagined the whole thing. Or maybe I only imagined the part where I thought I loved him. But no. Just the thought of him makes my stomach squirm and my heart flutter. I have well and truly fallen for him.

  If I wasn’t working, I would also have let my mind slip into the fear of him being the only one for me. Had I not been taking orders and delivering food to tables, I would have crumbled at the idea that I would never be able to love anyone again, because the only one I do love is Peter, and he’s going to leave.

  It’s a good thing that the diner doesn’t empty, because I would surely have time to cry and fret, and neither of them will be good for me. I feel ridiculous just for worrying about these things, and for thinking them about someone I don’t know very well, just like he doesn’t really know me at all.

  What if we’re destined to be together and this is it? Our one shot, and it’s going to fall short of the try line, simply because I lied and he’s got other dreams?

  We work so hard, that when the final customers leave, and we close up for the afternoon, I don’t feel like I’ve been there for nine hours. It feels as though we’ve barely scratched the surface.

  “You two must be pooped. Go on home.” Jones says, practically pushing them out of the door. I’ll see you both tomorrow, and you will take your breaks. I’m not paying you extra for being heroes.”

  We both laugh and make our way to her flat.

  Julianna’s apartment is small. It’s got three rooms, two are bedrooms and one is the living room, joined with a makeshift kitchen. The living room has a three-seater sofa which is sat opposite an old television. Her room has an assortment of items dotted around it, like pictures in frames, lamps, a bookshelf filled with DVD’s and children’s stories.

  All of these things came from a thrift shop, because Jules simply could not afford it. When Sophia was left on her doorstep, she had limited time to make the apartment habitable for a child, because it had previously been a mess. She usually just used it to sleep, preferring to spend her time in the library.

  It looks quite nice, but the poverty seeps through into the room. The small kitchen is made up of a hotplate and an ancient microwave. The fridge is tiny, barely reaching my thighs, and it has very little freezer space. The cupboards are long overdue a makeover and the paint is peeling from the wall.

  However, while it may not look like a palace, it is a home.

  “Belle, Belle, Belle!” Sophia cries, as she jumps into my arms.

  I give her a big hug and carry her into the living room with me. I set her on my knee as I sit down on the couch, and she begins to tell her about her day.

  “And then, I made a picture, and then we watched TV, and then we went to the park, and then she made me a sandwich and then we watched more TV!”

  “Sounds like you had a big day!” Julianna says to Francesca, the baby sitter.

  She hands over twenty dollars and the girl leaves.

  “Does Sophia want pizza?” Jules asks, holding her arms out.

  Sophia jumps to her and gives her a tight squeeze.

  “Yes, yes, yes. And a story!”

  Jules grimaces. She hates reading bedtimes stories. She’ll never admit it to anyone, but she’s dyslexic and really struggles to read a story. She used to just make them up, but Sophia got old enough to read some of the words herself, and would ask why Jules was lying.

  “How about I read you a story, Sophia? But only if you promise to go to bed when Jules tells you to!”

  “I will!”

  Julianna smiles at me, gratefully, and I immediately feel uncomfortable. I don’t know what brought it on, but I really don’t like it when people think that me helping them is a big deal. It’s not. We’re all people and we should look out for one another. Now, every time someone says thank you, I become super weird and awkwardly shrug it off.

  My mom says it’s because I’m just like that as a person, but as a kid, I didn’t understand why everyone wasn’t like that. What an odd way to perceive the world. To view people in a way that determined whether they’re worth your time or not. As if you are some kind of higher power. As if your time is more valuable than their relief of a problem.

  I don’t even know how to explain it. It’s just weird.

  Sophia turns the TV on, and for the next few hours we watch some horrendously dull children’s TV, until the pizza arrives and we put Sophia to bed.

  I read her C
inderella, since it was my favourite book as a child and she falls asleep.

  When I return to the couch, there is a glass of red waiting for me.

  “Thank you.” I say as I take a sip. “Ooh, this is nice!”

  We made a habit of drinking a different bottle of wine every time I go over and we note down the best ones. Since we only drink cheap wine, it’s a rare occasion that we find anything worth our time. We have four on the list.

  “It was only eight dollars ninety-nine!” She enthuses, holding the bottle up for inspection. “I’ll put this on the list, shall I?”

  “Definitely.”

  We plan, one day, to drink our way through every vineyard in America. Obviously, that’s a dream we can only accomplish when we both become lavishly rich, but I have faith that it’s a dream we can achieve. One day. In the very far future.