Chapter 5

I didn’t go to class. Not the day after the professor turned up in my dorm, or the rest of the week, or even now that a random cute blond guy has shown up claiming to have kissed me.

I don’t go to any of my classes. All of my other teachers were happy to give me online assignments and catch-up notes for the time I missed. I haven’t been able to bring myself to look at them though. I just don’t…care anymore. Deep down inside somewhere I know that that should be cause enough to make me freak out, but I just can’t summon the energy to care.

I can’t stop thinking about the professor. His words were harsh, but truthful. He lacked the malice he had before, and despite all of his insistences about not giving a shit, I feel like he does. Give a shit. About me, at least.

Or maybe that’s wishful thinking because no one else in my life besides Summer seems to.

And maybe that blond guy, Cove, wasn’t so random. When he texted me, his name came up on my phone. The only other number I have saved is Summer’s, which means that, even though I don’t remember him, for whatever reason he was important to me once.

Why don’t I remember him though? I pull out my small notebook and quickly scribble down my questions. Things I want to ask my therapist.

Yeah, I’m back in therapy. I thought moving so far away from my controlling perfection-seeking parents would get me out of therapy once and for all, but somehow Summer and the hospital managed to convince me it was a good idea to try again.

So I now have weekly online therapy sessions. I guess it could be worse.

A knock at my door startles me, and I reluctantly put down my notebook and pen. I’ve already filled several pages with notes and queries. Apprehension fills me as I crack open the door. Summer warned me that there was a murderer still on the loose around campus, and although there hasn’t been any more bodies found recently, girls are still disappearing without a trace apparently.

No one’s there. I squint down the hallway; deserted. Someone has made a delivery, though. A drop and dash.

I open the door a little wider so that I can crouch down and examine the package. It’s a traditional wicker picnic basket, and when I open it I discover a selection of drinks, popcorn, savoury snacks and chocolate. English chocolate. It makes me smile. I miss proper chocolate so much. Americans may do a lot of things better, but not chocolate. Or tea.

I smile because it’s such a sweet gesture. Cove must have done this.

Sure enough, as soon as I’ve brought the basket inside, my phone starts to ring. Maybe Cove really does care about me. “Malia-Tarni reminds me of Mai-Tai.” Maybe there was something there before. “I could show you the best surfing spots on the island.”

Or maybe I just want him to care about me because I can’t muster up enough energy to care about myself anymore.

I can’t leave my room.

It feels like a safe haven and a prison all at once. I long to go out but I tremble every time I touch the door handle. The only thing that alleviates my fear is taking the cocktail of pills that Summer brings me each day – but even then I don’t want to leave.

“You ready?” Cove’s voice cracks slightly as it comes through the speakerphone when I accept his video call. I huff. He wasn’t taking no for an answer, but as he returned with a goodie box full of cinema snacks and left without even making himself known or pushing to come in my room, I may be thawing a little towards him.

I guess I can humour him. The fact he actually did a drop and dash makes me like him a little bit. Opening the door to find no-one there but a basket full of treats is my idea of heaven. Not to mention some of my favourites were included, and I have no idea how he knew that.

I wish more people were like him. Thoughtful. Unintrusive.

It was kind of nice that he persevered with me though. I have no idea who he is, but he seems nice and he seems to like me. He said we kissed. Every time I think about that – him saying it, not the kiss itself which I don’t recall – my cheeks heat. I doubt it’s true, but I don’t know why anyone would lie about that. Especially Cove. He seems trustworthy from the limited interaction I’ve had with him. And why lie about kissing me when he could literally kiss any girl he liked, for real?

Ugh. I sound like an idiot, trying to reassure myself that he’s a nice guy because he has a pretty face and a winning smile. Would I feel the same if he looked like he fell out of a tree and hit every branch on his way down? Maybe. I like to think I’m not that shallow, and I’m pretty sure I could use some extra friends too. Regardless of what they look like.

Not that I was the life and soul of the party before, but now that I won’t leave the safety of my room, it’s only a matter of time before Summer ditches me for good. Who wants to spend time with someone who doesn’t want to go anywhere?

Maybe Cove can be a friend.

But he’ll get bored of me soon too.

My heart sinks and my good mood evaporates.

“Almost, I’m going to close the curtains to reduce the glare.”

“You’re watching on your laptop, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re missing out. This film needs to be seen on the big screen.”

“Wait, what? What are you watching on?” I ask.

“Projector.”

“How on earth can you fit a projector in your dorm room?”

“I live off campus. Right on one of the beaches actually. You’ll have to come by sometime.”

Excitement flutters in my throat before I can remind myself that I don’t go outside. Which is exactly why Cove is going to get bored and ditch me soon. I may as well enjoy this ‘date’ while it lasts. I doubt there will be another.

“Sure,” I reply noncommittally, although a part of me would love to see his beach house. I’m sure I used to love the ocean if my collection of bikinis and the surfboard on my wall is anything to go by. Summer tells me I was always in the water. I don’t remember, but I feel a sense of something…like I almost miss it. The ghost of the salt wind on my face as I ride the perfect wave. I don’t know why I told Cove I hate it. I just…I’m so confused. Telling him I hated the ocean was a gut reaction. But then when I’m least expecting it, these memories, these feelings hit me and I’m reminded of before. But when I try to zoom in on that thought, I’m overcome with blinding pain and I have to stop.

I glance over at my surfboard. Seems redundant to have it now, but I can’t bring myself to get rid of it. I also don’t know what inspired me to name it all of a sudden when I got out of the hospital. Betsy. It just seemed like the perfect name somehow.

Pulling the curtains closed, I smile at the cosy atmosphere I’ve managed to create: the fairy lights bathe the room in a soft glow; my laptop is balanced on the end of my bed; my phone’s perched on my bedside table next to my basket of snacks; and I have a soda, my comfy hoodie and freshly plumped pillows. It almost feels homey. Like, if this wasn’t a prison of my own creating, I could finally feel at home somewhere in this world. At peace.

Maybe one day I’ll fit in somewhere, instead of always feeling like a fish out of water.

“I’m ready,” I tell Cove, climbing onto the bed and getting into position.

“Alright, press play in 3…2…”

“Wait. Are we pressing play on one or after one?”

“Does it matter?”

“It does if we want to be in sync.”

“I like the sound of that.” I can almost hear him smiling down the line and so I risk a quick peek at my phone screen. Sure enough, Cove is beaming back at me. My own lips curl upwards even as my stomach flips. He’s so cute. All blond locks, tanned skin and blue eyes almost as bright as his infectious smile. It could definitely be said that I have a little crush on him, and not just because he dropped off snacks.

It’s easy to fall in love with someone who feeds you, especially when you’ve known true hunger.

“I’m pressing play now,” I tell him before I do something stupid like blurt out what I’m thinking. I’ve never been good at keeping it all in.

“Okay, pretty girl, let’s do this.” My stomach soars. He thinks I’m pretty.

“I think you’re pretty too.” Damn it. My cheeks heat and I quickly glue my gaze to my laptop and busy myself starting the film. There’s no way I can look at him ever again now, especially when he chuckles lightly.

My god, that sound could make—nope. I’m not going there. I’m not about to bash out some cliché about weeping angels or naughty nuns. Nope. Not me. I don’t do clichés. And if I’m going to have a crush, it’ll take a damn sight more than a pretty face and a melodious laugh to make me fall. Even with delicious snacks.

We watch the film in relative silence, with Cove occasionally laughing or telling me I’ll love the next bit that’s coming up. In all honesty, I spend way too much of the film staring at my phone screen watching Cove watch his favourite film. It’s a sequel to an old 80s classic that I’ve never seen, but I really enjoy the soundtrack.

I know I said I couldn’t look at him ever again, but I can’t seem to help myself. There’s something magnetic about him, drawing me to him and reeling me in.

I couldn’t even say what the film was about, but he had fun judging by his smiles and laughs. I guess I did too if the stab of disappointment I feel when the credits finally roll around is anything to go by.

“So,” Cove says, muting his film as I do the same.

“So…” I echo reluctantly. I don’t want to go. I don’t want this to be over. That thought reminds me of the Dawson’s Creek theme song. Summer and I used to love that show. Everything I thought I knew about American culture came from watching that show, Sweet Valley High, Buffy or anything starring Melissa Joan Hart. Needless to say, life on Santa Catalina Island has been a stark wake up call. Though Cove does resemble someone from the cast of the OC.

I giggle.

“Do you want to go to sleep? It’s pretty late.”

“I’m not tired, but if you need to go I’ll just stay up and read for a bit.”

“I’ve got nowhere I’d rather be right now. Tell me about your book.”

I blush but hold up the book on my nightstand for him to see. “Looks cool. Is it paranormal?”

“Yeah.” I’m so glad he doesn’t seem able to tell it’s a romance. Not that I’m ashamed of what I like to read, I’m just not comfortable talking about the more steamy plot line. Especially with a guy.

I can barely even read it without my cheeks heating. Which makes me wonder…Cove said we know each other, that we went out a couple of times and that we kissed. Was it like it is in romance novels?

I sort of want to ask him but I bite my tongue – literally – to keep from looking like a fool.

“Do you believe in all that then?” he asks me.

“All what?”

“The paranormal. Ghosts and stuff.”

I shrug. “I don’t know.” An uneasy feeling settles over me. I have voices in my head. I can hear the most intimate thoughts of those around me. I’ve always had an affinity for understanding animals. As a child I used to talk to ‘ghosts’. But years of therapy and, more recently, a fuckload of medication has beaten those ‘psychotic fantasies’ out of me. “Why do you ask?”

“What about the supernatural?”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“I was thinking more…shifters. That sort of thing.”

“Like werewolves?” I look down at my wolf shifter romance which has an interesting plot twist developing. Could it be real? I don’t think so. Seems unlikely. But then again, isn’t reading minds?

“I guess.”

“You’re asking if I think human beings can shift into animals, in real life?” I can’t keep the incredulity out of my tone. If I even knew how to flirt, I would find a way to tease him about his question, but I don’t have a clue where to start and I’m sure I end up just staring at him like he’s crazy.

He doesn’t laugh it off but waits patiently for my response so I’m forced to add, “I mean, it’s fun to read. But it’s not real.”

“What about magic?”

“Tricks? Sure. They can be cool.” Even I can hear how sceptical I sound. Wary. Where’s he going with this? Oh god, if he wants to perform a magic trick for me I might die of embarrassment.

“No, like actual, real magic.”

“Harry Potter wand-waving magic?” I giggle nervously. “Erm, no. I don’t. Why?”

“Dunno. Just trying to make conversation I guess. Actually,” he pauses, checks his wrist for a watch which isn’t there, and then forces a yawn, “it’s pretty late. I think I better go.”

“Oh.” My face falls. I did something wrong. Said something stupid. But what? I think back over the last thirty seconds. Did he think I was mocking his interest in Harry Potter? Because I love that series. It’s pure escapism, grounded by characters relatable enough to make the reader think it could happen to them. You know, if it was real and life didn’t suck.

“Yeah. I had a really nice time tonight Mai-Tai.” I wait for the ‘but’, trying to mask my disappointment and confusion over whatever it was that I did wrong. “Let’s do it again sometime?”

“Sure,” I say, noncommittal. I don’t believe he wants to see me again for a second. If he did, why would he be running now? He’s just being polite.

“Next time, you can choose the movie so that you don’t spend the entire time bored out of your brain.”

“What? I wasn’t bored.”

“Oh, really? Then why did you spend the whole film staring at me rather than your laptop then?” he teases with a wink. I don’t reply but my face flames enough to answer for me and my eyes widen. I’m so busted.

“I had fun tonight too. Thank you for…not taking no for an answer, I guess.”

“Pretty girl, I’ll never take no for an answer when it comes to dating you. Goodnight!” He ends the call before I fully catch what he’s saying but it leaves me feeling a lot better than I did a few seconds ago.

For the first time in forever, I don’t read my book before bed, choosing instead to listen to the playlist Cove sent me earlier. The opening beats of ‘Missing Piece’ by Vance Joy washes over me, and I close my eyes and fall into sweet dreams with a smile on my face, and piercing ocean-blue eyes on my mind.