by Unknown
I plugged my phone into my charger, and set my alarm for 6:30 AM. My sociology final wasn't until 8, but I needed some time in the morning to decompress, before I sat in a room for hours on end taking a difficult test.
I set the phone down, and dropped back against my bed.
And that's when it hit me.
Melanie knew. That he had tried to kiss me. That he didn't love her anymore. That’s why she was gone; it had to be. Evan probably spilled the news to her last night, or sometime today, and she didn’t want to see me, not tonight—and not ever again.
I obsessed over the thought for a few minutes but didn’t lie awake for hours, like last night. I was way too exhausted for that. My head hit the pillow, and soon enough, I was out.
My eyes shot open the next morning before my alarm even went off. I jumped in the shower, got dressed, and put on a little blush, just enough to make me look decent. I grabbed my sociology binder and headed downstairs.
The walk from the sophomore dorms to U-Hall would have been filled with a lot more tension if it hadn't been so dizzyingly gorgeous outside on that early Monday morning. Birds soared through the air above me; the waves of the Pacific Ocean crashed against the beach in the far distance. When I first moved to L.A. I worried that I was going to be surrounded by nothing but smog and honking cars, but Loyola Marymount was in its own little world up on that bluff, a paradise unlike any other.
I arrived at the classroom ten minutes early, so I didn't immediately step inside. I looked through the tiny window on the door. Only two students were seated, and neither one was Evan. Part of me was relieved he wasn't there yet; part of me wished he wouldn't show up at all. I needed to be focused on the final, not distracted by Evan's wandering eye.
I found my seat on the right side of the classroom and took out my notes. I looked over them one last time, as the minutes crept toward 8 AM, and as the thirty other students made their way inside. I looked behind me. The room was full. Only one student was missing: Evan.
“All right, everyone,” Mr. Hernandez said, an intimidating stack of stapled packets in his hands. “Please put everything under your desk. All you need is a pen or pencil. I’m going to hand out the scratch paper first, then I’ll give you the test. Are there any questions?”
I glanced back. Still no Evan. I looked at the clock. 7:59.
I raised my hand. “Yes, Miss Baker?” the teacher asked.
“Mr. Hernandez, I don’t think everyone’s here yet.”
He shrugged. “That’s not my problem,” he said, and looked right past me. “All right, let’s begin. If you will please—”
The door swung open, just as Mr. Hernandez set the first piece of scratch paper on my desk. It was Evan, breathing heavily, a sweat stain forming at the top of his white t-shirt.
“Mr. Taylor,” the teacher said. “So glad you could make it.”
Evan landed hard on his seat, and took out a pen. When Mr. Hernandez gave him the scratch paper, he used it as a towel for his face.
I looked back at him, waited for him to make eye contact with me. When he finally did, he waved, that same friendly wave he’d been giving me all year. I pouted. Had he already erased Saturday night from his mind?
I spun back around. I couldn’t think about Saturday, about Evan, anymore. I had a test to take.
We were allowed two hours, but I finished in about seventy-five minutes. That fear I had all morning of opening the booklet to page one and my mind going blank didn’t last past the first question. I destroyed the test, in the multiple choice, in the essays. When I walked out of the classroom, I felt like Wonder Woman, albeit without the Spanx.
My confidence level shrunk, however, when Evan stepped out of the room barely two minutes later, and headed straight toward me. One second I felt like I could save the planet, and the next I wanted to hide under the nearest bench. I didn’t know what to do. Hug him? Shake his hand? Play it cool and ignore him? Wrap my arms around him and shove my tongue down his throat?
“Hey,” he said. “You want to get some breakfast? I don’t have my next final until 11.”
He looked so relaxed, so at ease, not weird around me at all. I nodded my head toward the food court. “Yeah, okay.”
We sat outside again, me with my fruit cup, Evan with his eggs and waffle platter. We talked about the final for a few minutes, but my curiosity got the best of me.
“So did you and Melanie hang out yesterday?”
He didn’t answer right away; his mouth was full of scrambled eggs and syrup. “Uhh, no. I slept in until, like, two in the afternoon, then went surfing with Zach. I didn’t start studying until late last night. That's why I almost didn't make it on time to the final, I overslept.”
He made a few points in his long rant, but I only focused on one. “You slept in until two? God, you must have been tired. Did you go out Saturday night? You know, after we—”
Out of nowhere, he started coughing. After a few awkward seconds I prepared myself to give him the Heimlich maneuver, but then he put his hand out to assure me he was okay. “Whoa,” he said, and took two large gulps of his water. “Sorry about that.”
“Careful,” I said. I slapped him lightly on his back. “You don’t want to be the first person in history to choke on a waffle.”
He laughed. “Hey, I bet it’s happened before.” He coughed, one last time, then darted his eyes away from me. He almost looked like he was hiding something. “Listen, Syd, I wanted to apologize. I don’t know what came over me on Saturday.” He doused his waffle with more syrup and shoved a big chunk of it into his mouth.
“It’s okay. You don't have to say you're sorry.” I meant to say more, but I hesitated. Were we really going to talk about this now, while he was busy shoveling in his breakfast like a hungry grizzly bear?
When he put his fork down, I almost thanked him. “Things have been kind of frustrating with Mel for a while, but that’s no excuse. I still love her, I want to make things right with her. Actually... I'm a little scared.”
I tried not to show my disappointment in what he was saying. “Scared? Why?”
“Because. I think she might know.” He glanced behind him, to make sure no one else was listening. “You know… that I kissed you.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You didn’t exactly kiss me, Evan.”
“Didn’t I?”
I decided not to go into specifics. “How in the world would she know?”
“I have no idea. We were outside. Someone could have seen us.” He tapped his thumbs against the table. “I wasn't thinking straight.”
“Did she say something to you?”
“No, nothing, that's the thing. I haven't even seen her. I texted her yesterday after I woke up, then called her last night. She didn't answer.”
“Wait, really?”
He pushed his plate aside, and set his elbows down. “What? What's the matter?”
“When's the last time you saw her? Saturday?”
“Uh huh.”
“That's so weird.” I took a bite of pineapple and set my chin against my palm. “I figured she was with you last night.”
“Why's that?”
“She didn’t come back to the dorm. At least, I don’t think she did.”
He bit down on his tongue. “That is weird. Can you call her real quick?”
“Yeah, sure.” I took out my phone, dialed her. Tapped my fingernails against the table as I waited through the six long rings. I got her voice-mail, again. “Hey Melanie, it’s Sydney. It’s Monday morning, close to 10 or so. Just wanted to…” I stopped. I didn’t want to tell her I was worried about her, I needed to be more specific. “I had a quick question for you. Can you call me back when you get a sec? It's really important. Okay. Bye.”
“That was perfect,” Evan said. “Hopefully she gets back to you soon. Cuz she doesn't seem to want to talk to me right now.”
I forced a smile. “I bet she does. Something probably happened. Maybe her phone died.”
“Yeah
, maybe.” He grabbed his plate, and stood up from the table. “Well, I should get going. One final down, two more to go.”
“Oh God, that's right. Good luck on those.”
“Thanks.” Evan picked up his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. He glanced at his cell phone. Let out a pained sigh.
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” I said. I hated seeing him worry. “She’s probably just busy with finals. I think she said she had at least one today, if not two. I can’t remember.”
“I hope so,” he said. “I mean, tomorrow's our anniversary. She can’t hide from me forever.” He headed toward the entrance door, and waved at me. “I'll talk to you later, okay?”
“Okay. Bye Evan.”
I sighed as he left. It didn't look like he was going to break up with her any time in the near future. But what about Melanie? Maybe she would be the one to do it. Maybe even on their anniversary.
I watched him walk back into the building, and focused my eyes on his perfectly round ass.
“I’ll get you, Evan Taylor,” I whispered. “I’ll get you if it’s the last thing I do.”
Chapter 12
I headed back to my dorm for a few hours, before my second final of the day. I surfed the web for a while, sent out a few e-mails, watched the latest episode of Game of Thrones. I was all by my lonesome, yet again. No Melanie.
At 2 PM I had my atmospheric science final, which, for a low-level core class, was ridiculously hard. Granted, I hadn’t studied for this one as much as the sociology test, but still: I walked out feeling not like Wonder Woman, but like Superman wearing a full body suit made of Kryptonite.
I had another final Tuesday bright and early at 8 AM, for Ethics 150, so I spent most of Monday night in the library, with Lukas, pouring over notes, again.
At 10:45, Lukas closed his binder and threw it against the floor. “That's it!” he said. “I'm done! I can't take it anymore!”
I opened my mouth to say something, but he slammed his forehead against the desk before I had the chance. He didn’t move. Didn’t even seem to breathe for a moment.
“Uhh, Lukas?” I said. “Are you okay?”
He leaned back in his chair, stared up at the florescent lights. He tapped his fingers against the sides of his glasses. “Is this week over yet? I so want it to be Sunday.”
I smiled. “Me too.”
“We'll be all done with finals, we'll have everything moved into the new place. We can sprawl out on the sofa, eat cookie dough ice cream, and have a Meryl Streep marathon.”
“God,” I said, practically salivating. I almost tossed my binder to the floor, too. “That sounds amazing.”
“Doesn’t it?” He leaned down, unzipped his backpack. He pulled something out and grinned, diabolically. “Now, Sydney…”
“Yes, Lukas?” I tried to look over the other side of the desk. What was he up to?
“I know how you feel about alcohol, but I’m hoping you’ll give me a free pass tonight, since I’m stressed the fuck out.” He finally brought his hands back up to the table, and revealed a mini bottle of Patron Tequila Silver.
“What? What are you...” I glanced every which way. “You can’t have that in here!”
“Oh come on. No one’s paying attention.”
He was right about that. I only saw one other student nearby, and his nose was buried in a textbook. “It doesn't matter,” I whispered. “Put it away! Why did you bring that here?”
Lukas tapped it against the desk. “It's been in my backpack for weeks. I kept it close by, for when I absolutely needed it. And that time… is now.”
“No! Stop it!” I tried to bat it away, but he kept a tight grip on it. “I couldn't care less if you drink alcohol, Lukas, you know that, but I don’t want to get in trouble. Not this week.”
“We won’t get in trouble.” He unscrewed the cap. “Just keep an eye out.”
“Lukas… damn it…” There was no stopping him. When he downed the tequila, my whole body tensed up. I waited for that scary old librarian to appear from the shadows and throw us into some underground prison.
“Whoa,” he said, and blinked a few times, erratically. “That's some good shit.” He brought the bottle back down to the table. It was still only half empty.
“Okay, now put it away,” I said.
“Come on. Have one sip.” He pushed it toward me. “Take one little sip.”
I swatted it right back at him. “No. Don’t be a jerk.”
“All right, all right, fine.” He drank the last of it, then turned toward the nearest trash can. He raised the empty bottle up high, like he was going to throw it. But he stopped. “Actually, that’s probably not the best idea, huh?”
“Good thinking, Einstein,” I said. He dropped the bottle in his backpack.
“Now... was that so hard? Look around you, Sydney. Nobody cares.”
“Lukas, I don’t care. I’ve told you before. I don’t care if people drink alcohol, I care about them downing tequila shots like water and then going for a midnight drive with five passengers in the back seat.”
“No, I know.” He tapped his pen against the desk. “You'll let me have wine in the apartment, right?”
My eyes opened wide. “Of course! Dude, I don’t want you to think I’m gonna be this stuck-up bitch who chastises you ever time you have a sip of beer or something.”
“I don’t think that.”
“I’m going to be a great roommate, all right? You’ll love me, I promise.”
He leaned against the table and took my hand. “I already love you. You know that, right?”
Lukas always knew exactly what to say. Sometimes I hated that he was gay. I probably would’ve been dating him by now if he wasn't.
He smiled at me, but then veered his smile to someone else. A boy walked into the hallway, grabbed a hardback from the nearest shelf. It was Robert, the ginger cutie from Friday.
He glanced at us, but didn’t say anything. He disappeared around the corner, out of sight.
“Hey, wasn’t that the guy you said was gay?” Lukas asked, bringing his hands back to his side.
“Yeah,” I said. “His name's Robert. You think he’s cute?”
“Kinda. I mean, I don’t really know him.” He shoved his backpack against his knees and zipped it up.
“So? If you think he's cute, you should ask him out! He’s single. I checked.”
He laughed. “I don't know. Could you see me with a redhead?”
“I totally could. You guys would be perfect. You're both the same height, you probably like the same things. You're both total dorks.”
He rolled his eyes, and looked in the direction Robert had been standing. “I've seen him around, but... he's never taken a second look at me.”
“Lukas.” I stared him down. “He could be the one. I want you to at least ask him out, okay? I'm not taking no for an answer.”
He wouldn't look me in the eyes. “Maybe. We'll see.” He scooted his chair back. “We should go. The library's about to close.” He stood up and pulled his backpack over his shoulders.
I sighed. Why did he do that? He was so confident when he was around me, but terrified to even talk to another gay boy on campus. I knew if Lukas just put himself out there a little more, he could find love, happiness, everything he wanted. I was going to make him and Robert happen. In any way possible.
I grabbed my binder and stood up next to Lukas.
He gave me a funny look. “Oh, by the way,” he said, “speaking of dating. How’d everything go with Evan on Saturday, after I left? I totally spaced last night and forgot to ask you.”
“It… well…” It wasn’t worth my breath. “Nothing. We just studied.”
“Studied for finals, or studied each other's naughty bits?” He tried to talk in a British accent, but it came off more Australian.
I slugged him, playfully, and headed toward the library exit. He followed me outside.
“I don’t know, Sydney,” Lukas said. “That guy… he seems li
ke trouble.”
“Trouble? What are you talking about? Evan's sweet.”
“He's hot, I'm not denying that, but... I'm not sure if I trust him.”
I hated when he tried to play father to me, like I needed protection. “How would you know? You've barely said two words to him.”
“It’s just a hunch, I guess.”
I shook my head and almost hit him a second time, not for being gross, but for being annoying. “Give me some actual proof that he's not a good guy for me, and maybe I’ll believe you.”
“Well...” Lukas shrugged. “He does have a girlfriend.”
I clicked my tongue. “Yeah, don't remind me.”
When we departed awhile later, I checked my phone. It was after midnight. If I didn't get to sleep soon, I'd wake up halfway through tomorrow's final.
I hurried upstairs, and entered my room. It was super dark inside. I wanted to call out Melanie’s name, but I didn’t want to wake her. I looked up at the top bunk. Squinted. Was she there?
I leaned against her desk and stood up on my tippie-toes. I didn't see all of her, but I caught a glimpse of her feet.
Melanie was back.
I crawled into bed and was fast asleep in a matter of minutes.
Evan was in my dream again. We were sitting on the warm sand at Venice Beach, just the two of us, holding hands, staring out at the Pacific Ocean. His hair was shorter, and his body was tanner than normal. He kissed me on the cheek, and stroked his fingers against my arm. He reached behind my back and undid my bra. He got on top of me, kissed me hard on the lips, then ran his tongue all the way down to my belly button.
“You're so good… Evan…”
I closed my eyes, clasped my hands against the back of his head, and drew him farther down.
“Oh, whoa.” I leaned back against the sand. “Oh my God… that feels... that feels so—”
I stopped. So did Evan. He came up for air, and glanced past my left shoulder. I looked back. Something was approaching. Was it a person? A dog? No.
It was a skunk.
I stared at it. “What the hell?”
