After he dropped his hand from his face and he noticed me, he stopped walking. His face held no expression as he stared at me from about five feet away. Then, a sleepy smile greeted me before his voice did. “Hi.”
I returned a smile, but it was only because his was contagious—nothing more. “Hi.”
But he still didn’t move.
Once it dawned on me how long we’re standing there for, I faced the mirror again and flipped on the faucet to brush my teeth. He drew nearer before he appeared in the mirror’s reflection behind me, and leaned over to grab a towel off the shelf, careful to keep a distance, but also lingering longer than he should.
He switched the water on in the stall next to mine and hung his clothes and towel. When he turned back around, he approached the sink beside mine.
Our eyes met in the mirror’s reflection. “Mia, right?”
It was in that moment I noticed his green eyes. They were beautiful. Rare. A color so distinguishable, but indescribable at the same time. It was the color of the reflection of palm trees across a shoreline when the sun was at its highest point in the day. The color was noon. It wasn’t the deep blue shade of the ocean past the reflection of the tree line, or the white when the foam gathered in the sand, but the sweet spot in the middle. It was the perfect timing when three of God’s creations collided: the sun, trees, and water.
It was breathtaking, even in the damn mirror.
“Yeah, that’s right.”
He turned his body to face me and leaned into this sink as he extended a hand, his eyes even more beautiful when they were looking into mine without barriers. “I’m Ollie.”
His lovely eyes and formal etiquette caught me off guard. After darting my eyes between his face and his hand, I accepted his gesture. I hadn’t shaken a hand in a long time. Was I even doing it right?
Ollie grinned.
He placed his toothbrush and a razor over the sink, and his face fell as he attempted to fix his thick and rebellious hair by running his fingers through. His hair wasn’t long enough to cover his ears, but long enough to fall over his eyes if he didn’t style it back. “Great first impression, yeah?” He followed up with a lazy laugh, but my attention was on the razor, and I eyed it as if it were a million dollars.
“How can I get one of those?”
Ollie looked down at the counter and back at me, a small wrinkle forming between his brows. “You haven’t got a razor?” I shook my head, and he slid the razor in my direction as if we were dealing drugs. “You can have this one. It’s fresh. I haven’t used it.”
“Thanks.”
We shared a smile, and he dropped his head in acknowledgment before turning and disappearing behind the curtain.
The water didn’t take long to heat up as I undressed behind my curtain before stepping under the showerhead. It wasn’t hot, but warm enough to bear. I squeezed shampoo in the palm of my hand and massaged it into my scalp, taking my time and hoping Ollie would finish before my water turned cold. I wasn’t good at small talk. It was awkward and pointless, and I avoided it at all costs.
His water cut off, and the sound of his curtain against the rod followed shortly after. “I would suggest hurrying if you want to avoid rush hour,” he called out over the sound of my running water. His voice came deep and from the chest. He talked slowly, like each word he chose was carefully considered. I peeked my head through the small slit in the curtain just as his shirt fell over his tattooed stomach in the reflection of the mirror. “Only giving you a heads up.”
Without a response from me, he left. Not even five minutes later, people trickled in as showers and faucets turned on around me, and a few comments were thrown around in the air.
Today was my first full day of classes and my first counseling session. I was not looking forward to either. My schedule consisted of four rotating courses. Mondays and Wednesdays were the same, with a one-on-one session to follow, and Tuesdays and Thursdays were the same with a group session to follow. Fridays were free days for extracurricular activities, in which I didn’t plan on taking part.
I arrived here on a Wednesday, making today my first and last day of the week for classes before a three-day weekend. Even though today was supposed to be a group session, Dean Lynch left a sticky note over my schedule to remind me I would continue one-on-one sessions with Dr. Conway up until my second week here.
Since I wasn’t allowed to have a blow dryer, I left my hair down and air-dried, and wore my combat boots over my black skinny jeans. I didn’t despise the dress code. It could have been worse. The collared Dolor shirt wasn’t too baggy, but not too fitted either as it laid nicely over my average-sized chest. I left the buttons undone.
The moment I walked into the mess hall, the smell of syrup and bacon made my stomach growl. I decided to sit at the same table as the day before, officially claiming it as mine. The atmosphere during breakfast was far different from last night’s dinner. The morning sun peeked through gray clouds as its rays created spotlights through the window and into the large room. My new fellow peers stayed quiet, dragging their feet from the breakfast line toward their tables. Students slowly seeped in, the dread of the new day written all over their faces. Alicia, Jake, and their group of friends made their way to the same table they’d sat at the day before.
Jake waved me over from across the room, but I declined with a shake of my head. I didn’t need friends, especially the tenacious kind. Humans annoyed me, and Jake would only drag out my days here. My only mission was to keep my head down and get through the next two years without complication. Having Jake believe we were friends would be a complication. Eventually, someone’s petty feelings would get hurt because of my venomous tongue and reckless actions.
Ollie strolled in a few minutes later with his brown hair flipped into a lopsided wave and wearing a plain white tee around his tall and skinny build. Tattoos peeked from under his shirt, and his infectious smile lit the room as he entered. His dismissal of wearing the Dolor shirt had me intrigued. He seemed like the kind of guy to get away with shit like that.
Ollie walked in beside another guy a few inches shorter with midnight-black hair, longer at the top and buzzed around the sides. He had darker features and trimmed facial hair. Since I didn’t plan on getting close enough to the group to learn their names, I’d decided to call him Midnight.
They both glanced over in my direction as Ollie talked in his ear.
The pixie-haired girl greeted Ollie with a kiss on the cheek, and he quickly glanced to me then back at her, and his posture changed. It could have been his girlfriend, but the way he reacted said otherwise.
My attention went back to my food. I took a bite of the bland pancakes as I stared at the screaming kid, Zeke, eating alone.
The people here, for the most part, stayed to their group or themselves. Loners scattered themselves throughout the mess hall, but you still had your group of sexually confused, your punks, thugs, jocks, mean girls, and handicapped—all most likely avoiding prison or a mental institution like me.
But then you had the crew Jake and Alicia were in. They were quite the mixture.
Ollie and Midnight took a seat at their table before Ollie found me across the room. He was interested. Humans are wired to stare at ones they are interested in.
I once read a study regarding the different levels of eye contact. There are nine levels, by the way. Ollie was on level three right now, which is the “glance and a half.” Though, if he looked away then back at me a second time, he would be upgraded to a level four—”The double glance.”
He looked away, and I held on a few more seconds.
He looked again, and—boom—level four, ladies and gents.
His gaze fixated on me, somehow holding all my attention now. Level five. Those fierce green eyes held a degree of gravity, weighing me down and lifting me off my feet at the same time. He grinned—level six—and I sh
ook my head at his arrogance. Am I smiling? Oh, Jesus, I’m smiling.
Ollie raised a brow as his smile matched mine. His dimple deepened, and I managed to pull away from his hold to allow my smile to subside.
I needed to get laid—like yesterday.
The first block went by quickly. I had already taken college algebra during my senior year of high school, so now I was placed in trigonometry. Math was black and white, right or wrong. The answer was clear.
Next was the introduction to literature. I walked into the class, and I immediately saw Jake with wide eyes, slapping his hand over the empty desk beside him.
“Thank God,” he whispered as I sat in the seat he’d saved for me since he hadn’t left me much of a choice. “You made this class so much more interesting.”
“That bad, huh?”
Jake nodded as he continued to tell me about the monotone professor and the number of papers we would have to write this semester. I hated English, literature, and everything else that went along with it, unable to understand why people would be intrigued by something that was entirely made up. How on earth was it essential for survival in the real world? Each story had a different meaning to different people, different interpretations, so there was never a precise answer.
After class, Jake quickly gathered his books together to keep up with my pace. I was almost out of the door—almost.
“Care if we walk together to the mess hall?” he asked, catching his breath.
“Only if you let me read you.”
“Let you read me?” He panted.
“Yeah, it’s a game I like to play.”
Jake’s face twisted with an amused and curious smile. “Alright, sure … yeah, read me.”
Though I’d already figured him out, I took the time to study him up and down for dramatic effect. Jake straightened his posture and managed to grow another inch. I was only 5’3”, and he couldn’t have been more than four inches taller than me. “Alright, Jacob … goes by the name Jake because it makes you seem … less masculine …” He rolled his baby-blues before shifting his books to his other hand. Jake was in touch with his feminine side; you could see it in his stride. “You are a middle child surrounded by sisters—”
Jake opened his thin lips to speak, but I put up a finger to silence him.
I quickly added, “But you have an older brother who is the star athlete of the family, and whom everyone is compared to. So that would put you as the second youngest.” Jake raised his eyebrows, and I knew from his expression I was on the right path. “You come from a religious family, and even though you are a poster child, always followed the rules, always did the right thing, your parents still sent you here to try and knock the gay out of you.”
Jake shook his head in disbelief. “Bloody hell, you’re good.”
I dusted off my shoulder. “It’s a talent. Though, what I don’t understand, is why you agreed to come here. You’re an adult. Your parents can’t force you.”
“You’re right, they can’t force me, but they sure as hell can bribe me.”
During the rest of our short walk to the mess hall, I’d learned Jake had a boyfriend back home, whom he was caught in bed with by his father. He didn’t even get to say goodbye before he was brought here. At first, the school turned Jake away, but since his father was a pastor of a church, they offered to help students with community service upon their release in negotiation to take Jake in.
Jake tried to convince me to sit with him during lunch, but I decided to keep to myself at my table.
After I finished eating, I pulled out my class schedule to see psychology was next—my favorite. I folded my arms over the table and laid my head down until the lunch bell rang.
My eyes wandered toward Jake’s table. The pixie-haired girl had her head against Ollie’s shoulder as he talked to Midnight. Alicia and Jake were laughing and pointing at a girl across the room who had trouble bringing her food to her mouth. Ollie caught wind of Jake and Alicia’s amusement, turned behind him to see what they were laughing about, then slammed his fist against the table.
Since I couldn’t hear a word they said, I instead pretended they were all part of a soap opera while making up commentary in my head.
Pixie-haired girl removed her head from Ollie’s shoulder before curling into a ball next to him, and Ollie’s gaze drifted in my direction. I quickly turned my head over my hands in the opposite direction to look out the window instead. The view wasn’t any better, but I didn’t like what his stare did to me. It pulled me in, and suddenly I was losing control.
I never lost control. Control was all I had.
The class was small in psychology, about ten students at most. Though there were plenty of desks available in the front, I chose one in the last row in the back. Again, I blame it all on my need to control the situation. I could see everyone in front of me, knew the location of my exit, and understood my surroundings.
The professor still wasn’t in, and I took the time to analyze each student. The way they either slumped in their chairs, or sat tall and ready for class to begin, which ones had friends in the classroom, and which ones didn’t. In the second row on the far right sat a girl with short blonde hair and small shoulders. She looked up from her desk and toward the door every ten seconds.
She was waiting for someone.
“Good afternoon, hello, good day,” a gentleman rambled while bustling through the door. “Sorry I’m running a bit behind today, but if everyone could quickly get their textbooks and find the chapter regarding Maslow’s Hierarchy of Emotional Needs, we will jump right in.”
The teacher was a tiny fellow with gray wiry hair and patches of stubble surrounding his jawline. His glasses sat on the tip of his nose as he shuffled amongst his papers at his podium. He was a slob, with his shirt half tucked into khakis two sizes too big. From the looks of it, you could tell he was late often.
He glanced up from his desk, and his attention was immediately drawn to me in the back. “I’m Dr. Kippler. There are extra textbooks on the bookcase behind you if you need one.” After I retook my seat, I flipped through the pages of the textbook when Dr. Kippler spoke up again. “Ah, nice of you to join us, Masters.”
I lifted my gaze to see Ollie taking a seat at the front of the room in front of the girl with blonde hair, and then it made sense. She was waiting for Ollie. Her small shoulders relaxed and she tucked her short hair behind her ear.
“This time I will let it pass since I was late myself, but no more warnings,” Dr. Kippler added, but I knew this was a regular thing for Dr. Kippler. He would never be on time.
Ollie nodded before turning his head to the blonde-haired girl who greeted him with a gentle hand over his shoulder.
But his attention quickly became mine the moment he spotted me in the back.
Three intense seconds passed with his eyes on mine before he mouthed, “Hi.”
The blonde-haired girl turned to see what had robbed her of his attention. She narrowed her eyes, and I gave them both a small wave with my fingers.
Dr. Kippler cleared his throat, and both Ollie and blonde-haired girl snapped their heads back to the front. “Masters, what are the six human emotional needs?”
Ollie’s posture relaxed as he stretched his long legs out in front of him. “Certainty, variety, significance, love, growth, and contribution,” he replied without opening his textbook.
“And which ones are required for human survival?” Kippler tested him.
“Certainty, variety, significance, and … love.”
I coughed out a laugh at the mention of the last one.
“Beg to differ … miss …,” Kippler looked down at his desk. “Jett.”
As I tapped my pencil on the edge of the desk, everyone turned around in their seats.
“No, keep going. You guys are doing great,” I said with a thumb in the air and a smil
e to match my sarcasm. I’d been in situations like this before, and it was a lose/lose battle. I had my beliefs about love, they had theirs, and I wasn’t here to convince anyone otherwise.
“Becks, which one do you feel is most significant to your needs?”
The heat was taken off of me and was now on a red-headed freckled boy sitting in the front. He was a total fire-starter. He had the red hair to match.
“Significance.”
My eyes rolled at my accuracy.
“I guess I want to be seen and heard,” Becks added. Yeah, with fire.
“Gwen?” Kippler asked.
Gwen, also known as the blonde-haired girl behind Ollie, leaned closer to Ollie. “Certainty,” she said. Ollie adjusted in his seat before she continued, “I want to feel safe and secure, I suppose. Especially in my relationships.” The way she said it somehow made the air in the room thicker, stuffier.
“What about you, Masters? What is your most significant need?”
I was on the edge of my seat for this one, certain Ollie was going to say “Significance” as well. Since I’d been here, he’d managed to get more attention from girls than I’d received from Jake. He looked like the kind of guy to crave attention and the need to be desired by others as much as the next guy.
“Hard to say, Kipp. I want to say, out of my options, love, but love is hardly an emotion.”
Wait. What?
“What do you mean?” Dr. Kippler asked.
“Emotions can change. They can go from one extreme to the next depending on various conditions, but love…”—he shook his head slightly—”love never waivers. It endures all other emotions. If it couldn’t withstand, then it was never really love in the first place.” Ollie let out a sigh. “Love is invariable, Kipp. Constant. Not an emotion.”
I stared at the back of his head with my brows in the air.
Dr. Kippler scratched along his jawline in deep thought. “With that being said, what is a better term you would replace love with as an emotion?”
Stay With Me (Stay With Me Series Book 1) Page 3