All the While (Senior Semester #3)

by Gina Azzi

  Lauren is waiting for me to respond, bouncing on her toes lightly, raw vulnerability marking her features. I can sense it in her eyes, detect it in the way she bites her bottom lip, her fingers fiddling with the pendant around her neck. Fuck. I don’t want to hurt her. Not again. But if I’m not honest with her now, it will hurt her so much more down the road. That’s one of the important takeaways I’ve learned from living in same house with Nicole. I vividly remember the nights she cried her heart out over her high school ex-boyfriend Spencer. He was a year older than her and promised her they could make their relationship work even though he was going away to college and she was still in high school. But as the story goes, he cheated on her one month into the school year. He told her he didn’t want to hurt her by breaking up and ruining her senior year. And man, she was devastated.

  No, I can’t do that to a girl. Especially not to a girl like Lauren.

  I place my hands on her shoulders. “Listen, Laur, I think we should talk.”

  She looks down immediately, her fingers gripping the pendant around her neck.

  “Lauren …” I bend my knees, trying to catch her eye. “Is there somewhere you want to go and talk?”

  She shakes her head, glancing at me briefly. “No, I know you have class. It’s okay, just tell me.”

  I sigh. Fuck, it’s like no matter how hard I try to do the right thing it always blows up in my face. I always end up being the asshole. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression,” I tell her honestly. “I like you, Lauren, I’ve always liked you. I think you’re an amazing woman. But my head isn’t in the right place right now to have a relationship. And things ended between us junior year for a reason; I don’t think anything has changed that would make a relationship between us have a different outcome. I’m sorry if I hurt you. It was never my intention. I want to be straight with you because I don’t think we’re on the same page about where this is heading…” I gesture between us “…I was just looking for something casual, familiar, and maybe the nostalgia of what used to be got to me. But I don’t think we should try and pick up from junior year.”

  She sniffles quietly, her hand covering her nose briefly. When she looks up at me, her eyes are watery but she smiles lightly. “Okay.” It’s a whisper. “I understand. Thanks for being honest with me, Zack. That’s something I always admired about you.”

  Fuck, does she have to make it harder by being so sweet and understanding?

  I nod. “If you need anything …” I trail off. Don’t make empty promises. “I’m still your friend, Lauren.” I can do that, right? I can still be a friend to Lauren.

  She nods. “Okay. Well, I’ll let you get to class. Bye, Zack.”

  “Later, Laur.”

  I watch as she walks away, her shoulders slumped, her gait slow.

  Way to go, Zack! Cock-blocking yourself.

  Fuck if it isn’t hard to do the right thing.

  * * *

  Midweek I’m struggling with the mountain of homework piling up on my desk. It seems like every time I submit one assignment, four more crop up in its place. And I can’t slack on any of them because they’re all for my major. Plus, I need to keep my GPA up if I’m going to apply to graduate programs.

  Pinching my nose between my thumb and forefinger, I debate slamming my head against the desk as I hear a loud roar followed by blaring music from the floor below me. So the guys are throwing an impromptu party. I can’t say I blame them. It’s fall semester. And it’s our senior year. We’re supposed to be partying and drinking and shamelessly flirting with the hot and tanned freshman girls. Except that I don’t have time for it right now. Slamming my book shut, I decide if I’m not going to focus on homework, I may as well do something productive. And a run along Boathouse Row will also provide some much needed clarity. An opportunity to tune out the world and think about nothing. Sounds better than a fucking party right about now.

  I toss my jeans on top of my rumpled bed and pull on a pair of basketball shorts. Rooting around in my closet, I dig out a pair of running shoes and grab some socks and a headband from my top dresser drawer. Pushing my hair out of my eyes and tying up my laces, I’m actually looking forward to the quiet, the solace that I just know my run will provide.

  Grabbing a set of headphones, I unplug my phone and find my keys on the nightstand. Then I’m out the door, squeezing past a flock of beautiful girls in miniskirts with long eyelashes and red Solo cups.

  Why can’t I just enjoy partying with them instead?

  * * *

  Forgoing the Land Rover, I walk over to the boathouse, flipping through my Spotify library until I find a chill mix of acoustic covers that seems to fit my current mood. Turning up the volume, I begin to jog, noting how the sun is just starting to dip in the sky, the light blue morphing into purple and pink streaks.

  Maybe getting back together with Lauren would have been the right decision. I mean, it’s great that things between us are always so easy and generally effortless, right? But is that the type of relationship I want to be in? One that doesn’t really require that much work? It seems kind of boring. But sometimes boring is nice. I mean the familiarity of it is usually a blessing. No awkward first dates, no limbo period waiting to have sex, no having to meet the parents. We’ve already been there, done that. And it’s not like I actually have the time to commit to a new relationship anyway. Things with Lauren are safe. I mean, I could hit her up tonight after my run and we could get together and I wouldn’t have to make sure I showered or dress a certain way or really try and impress her at all. There’s something to be said for that kind of ease, isn’t there? It’s definitely comfortable between us.

  I wonder if Maura would want a relationship with that type of easy security? No stress or drama to get tangled up in, always knowing where you stand with the other person. Probably not. It seems like she seeks out the unstable player-types who will just hurt her in the end. The douchebags like the guy from Boathouse Row. A freaking married man. Stop thinking about Adrian’s sister! She seems like she would be a handful to date, to really be with. But I can guarantee it would never be boring and effortless.

  Jesus, man. It’s not going to happen. And if you’re thinking about Maura, you have no right being with Lauren. So not getting back together was the right thing to do.

  Plus, Adrian’s sister is off limits.

  And then, as if the universe knew I was thinking about her, she appears before me. Her silhouette is framed by the setting sun, her long black hair untamed in the slight breeze. She’s standing off to the side of the path, the top of a DSLR camera covering part of her face as she looks through the lens. Muttering under her breath, a few distinct swear words make their way to my ears as she changes the settings and looks through the viewfinder again. I stop several feet away from her, just taking her in, watching her.

  And she’s unbelievably mesmerizing.

  Chapter Twenty

  Maura

  I jump when he says my name, whirling around so quickly I nearly drop my camera. That would have sucked. This thing is on loan from the school; it’s not exactly mine to break. And I don’t even want to know what the replacement fee would be.

  “Hey.” His voice is rough. He’s looking at me intently, an orange headband glowing from his blond head.

  “Hey,” I reply, lowering the camera, letting my arm dangle next to my hip. “What are you doing here?” Cringe. Obviously, he’s running.

  “Just getting a run in.”

  I nod. Duh.

  “You?” he asks.

  I hold up the camera awkwardly. “Practicing for my Photography class.”

  “That’s cool.” He steps forward, his blue eyes piercing in their intensity. “What have you got so far?” He takes the camera from my hand and sets the playback mode to begin scrolling through the photos I’ve snapped.

  “It isn’t much.” I shuffle awkwardly, torn between grabbing the camera from his hands and pretending I don’t care at all. “Just trying to get a
feel for it.”

  He nods, his lips pursed thoughtfully as he angles his head to the left and considers one of the photos for several seconds. My God, does he have full lips for a guy. Kissable lips. I squeeze my eyes shut tight. Get it together, Maura. This is Adrian’s best friend, you moron. Stop swooning over him. He has a freaking girlfriend.

  “This one has a lot of potential.” He holds the camera out to me, showing me the photo I took of a shell out on the water, the Museum of Art rising in the background, the sun shining on the water in a way that shows the shadows of the oars as the rowers slide forward into the catch position.

  “Thanks,” I say, unsure of what that potential actually is.

  “Yeah, see here…” he points to the shadow “…you can eliminate this and bring in more of the colors from the sunset by widening the aperture and slowing down the shutter speed.” He changes some of the settings on the camera, before looking through the viewfinder again. He snaps a picture and studies it in the playback mode before handing it to me. “See?”

  Taking a look at his photograph, I reach out to touch the purple and pink streaks of sunset with my fingertips. “Wow.”

  Zack chuckles. “Yeah, it’s beautiful this time of day.” He nods to the river in front of us. “But this is a tough time to shoot at. Dusk is always hard to capture. If you lower your f-stop to 3.5, you’ll have a shallower depth of field. This will make it easier to focus on one object, like the shell in the picture, or the museum in the background … if that’s your objective.” He takes the camera out of my hands and fiddles with the settings again before snapping another photo. This one shows the museum clearly with the sunset blurry behind it.

  I nod. “This is really cool, thanks.”

  Zack shrugs. “You’ll have to keep practicing with it. You’ll get there.”

  “How d’ya know so much about photography anyway?” I ask him.

  He shrugs. “My sister Nicole and I took a class at a camp one summer. I really liked it. She really liked the instructor.” He smiles suddenly, as though remembering a funny story. “She tried to be super sophisticated and take photos of all these sensual images.” He laughs loudly. “And on the last day, the guy’s fiancée shows up to help judge the photos for some contest we were all participating in. Nicole was mortified.” He laughs again, wiping the back of his hand across his left eye. “It was freaking priceless. Her face was priceless.”

  I laugh along with him. “How old were you guys?”

  “I was sixteen so she was seventeen. It was the summer before her senior year of high school. Our parents literally didn’t know what to do with us for an entire summer so they signed us up for this lame camp that everyone else stops going to when they’re like twelve.” He laughs again. “Poor Nicole.”

  I smile. “Sounds like you guys are really close.”

  He nods. “Yeah. She’s usually a pain in the ass, and she’s brutally, painfully honest, but I love her.”

  “That’s important,” I say lightly.

  Zack pauses, as if noting that the conversation could take a turn for the awkward. “Hey, you hungry?” he asks, catching me off guard. “I haven’t eaten dinner yet, and I could really grab a bite.”

  “You’ve barely worked up a sweat.” I point to his mostly dry T-shirt.

  He shrugs. “This run was more to clear my head than to get in a workout.”

  I can definitely relate. “Sure, I can eat.”

  “Any place you want to go in particular?”

  I rack my brain, sighing in relief when a cute soup, sandwich, salad place around the corner pops into my mind. “Yeah, actually it’s just around the block.”

  “Okay.” Zack smiles, hanging on to my camera as we fall into step alongside each other. “What other classes do you have this semester?”

  And I as I begin to talk, really talk without thinking about the words coming out of my mouth or pausing to make sure I’m not giving too much away, I realize how nice it is to just hang out with a friend. And then I’m grateful to Zack for being my sort of friend.

  When we arrive at the café, I order a side of fries and a chocolate milkshake. Zack’s eyes scan my body up and down. “I swear, I’ve never seen a girl eat like you and manage to keep her body tight.”

  I shrug. “It’s all the rowing.”

  He shakes his head. “Nope. A lot of those girls are big and bulky, not lean and toned like you. Must be good genes. I’ve seen Mama Rodriguez, and I gotta tell you…” He trails off, whistling under his breath.

  I laugh, hitting him in the stomach with the back of my arm. He’s right, I realize, thinking of my mom’s curvy yet fit figure. “Ew, stop.”

  He orders a tuna wrap and bottle of water and pays for both of our meals before I have time to dig out the crumpled bills in the side pocket of my bag.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” I tell him, handing him a rumpled up ten-dollar bill.

  He waves my hand away dismissively. “It’s fine. I want to.”

  I shrug and stuff the money back into my bag, thanking him again.

  He smiles at me and leads me to a corner table by the window, tucked away from the foot line of traffic lining up at the counter. “Cool spot,” he comments.

  “Yeah, I come here a lot. Although I try and order healthier options than the milkshake.”

  “Special occasion?”

  “Nah, just frustrated today.”

  Zack’s eyebrows furrow together. “Why’s that?”

  I shrug, sitting on my fingertips and hunching forward. “I miss my friends. And I hate the topic I picked for my Photography final. Just in a crappy mood today, I guess.”

  Zack smiles lightly. “What’s your topic?”

  “Broken.” It comes out dejected.

  Zack whistles low. “That sucks.”

  I shrug. “I’m thinking I can crush up a bottle of pills and voila, broken.” It’s a bold thing to say, and I know that if my parent’s overheard me they would be mortified, embarrassed, and deeply upset.

  But Zack throws his head back and laughs. “You never say what I think you’re going to.” His eyes shine with amusement. “That’s fucked-up, you know.”

  I smile back. “I know.”

  “And yet, we’re probably the only two people who would joke about it. Who know that if Aid was here, it’d be a comment he would appreciate. Hell, he’d be the one to say it.”

  I nod in agreement. “Are you ever angry with him? For the way it happened … for the decisions he made?”

  Zack turns thoughtful, his pensive stare broken only by the arrival of our food. He takes a bite of his wrap slowly, mulling over his thoughts as he chews. Finally, he looks me straight in the eye and nods. “Yeah. At first, I was pissed as hell. Couldn’t understand how he got caught up in that, why he didn’t reach out to me. Then I was just angry with myself. How did I not notice he wasn’t acting like himself? I mean, I did notice something was off but how did I not see it was drugs? Did I give him a pass because he was my best friend? Because I didn’t want to confront him?” He laughs, shaking his head slightly. “I’ve lost more sleep over Adrian Rodriguez than any girl in the world, and I know, just know, he would be laughing his ass off at me right now.” He pauses, crumpling his napkin in his hand hard. “But man, do I miss him like hell.”

  I nod in agreement, picking up a fry and dipping it into my chocolate milkshake. “Me too. Every single day.” I hand the fry out to Zack. “Try this, it will make you feel better.”

  He looks at me like I’m some crazy chick. “Are you fucking kidding me? You dip your fries in your milkshake?”

  “Just try it you fake blueblood.” I hold the milkshake-dripping French fry under his nose.

  He rolls his eyes but opens his mouth slowly, and I pop the fry inside. Zack chews for a moment and then groans. “God, that’s good.” He looks up at me and laughs suddenly. “You know, you’re as crazy as your brother sometimes.”

  I smile back, my heart warming at his words, my mind
confused whether that’s actually a good thing.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Zack

  Maura Rodriguez is one of the most surprising girls I’ve ever met. And I don’t say that lightly being related to Nicole. But Maura, man, she’s tough as nails and has an attitude that most guys would shirk away from yet underneath that hard exterior, she’s kind and compassionate and these days, a little lost. And I get that. I really do. For some reason I’m attracted as all hell to her, all of her, not just her sweet curves and full lips. She’s the polar opposite of Lauren; I barely know her, yet she manages to get my blood pumping like no other girl ever has. Just the sight of her draws me in. But what I really like are the surprising things that fall from her mouth, the way her mind works, her lack of a filter. In a lot of ways, she reminds me of her brother. But in a lot of other ways, she’s so much more.

  My thoughts are still clouded by the sway of her hips and the flip of her long hair, the way she tucks her bottom lip between her teeth when she’s concentrating, how she tries to cover up her smile when I enter my house. By now the party is in full swing.

  Red Solo cups litter the windowsills and a couple bottles of Corona sit on the coffee table, their limes bobbing as the music pulses.

  “Yo, where the hell you been?” D’Arco walks up to me, taking a swig from the beer in his hand.

  “Went out for a run.”

  He raises his eyebrows. “Yeah? You don’t look sweaty.” He laughs suddenly, louder now that he’s had a few beers, “Side piece you don’t want Lauren knowing about?”

  I shake my head. “Nah, man, Lauren and I aren’t back together. We’re just friends.”