Chapter 5

Giselle

“You sure it’s okay?” I said, praying she would say yeah absolutely it’s okay and refuse my offers for help. Cass shrugged, hunching her shoulders as a cold wind brushed the trees of the Commons Field around us.

“Yeah, it’s whatever. I got someone else to help.”

“Oh—great.” I tried not to let it show how much I relaxed. “I’m so glad you have someone there to help. Friend of yours?”

“Yeah, just met her the other day.” She perked up a little. “Girl called Ava. Wears a hoodie with cat ears.”

“She sounds distinctive… I think I might have seen someone like that around campus.”

“Yeah, engineering student.” She looked away. “Wouldn’t have thought I’d get more help from someone in engineering than in information systems, but I guess life has a funny way of surprising you, doesn’t it?”

I withered a little. “Yeah… sorry I haven’t been able to—”

“Oh, forget it. Please. It’s really good. I hope your skating practice went well.” She turned away, raising a hand over her shoulder. “Well, I’ve got a hangout with my roomies. I’ll catch you later, Lawson.”

“See you,” I called, drawing up taller as I watched her go, a hollow feeling in my gut.

There was a way of spreading yourself too thin, I felt like, where you burned out and felt like you’d break. But I think I was finding a second way of spreading myself too thin, where you just didn’t give anything the right amount of focus and so you failed, just barely, at everything.

The honors society dinner had happened, but it was a wash, phoned in at best. I’d turned down requests for help from my father the last four times now, and when I did go, I didn’t actually make any connections at the event. I was barely holding onto my 4.0 grade record, one bad exam away from losing it in my stochastic models class. I felt like my skating coach was humoring me these days, and that I was doing the program for the program’s sake. And I was keeping up with my friends, but only nominally, on some shallow, not-really-there level that felt like it might have been worse than doing nothing at all.

And even when I was actively at my skating practice, I was just getting distracted by a pretty redhead.

Jesus. I was such a loser.

I pulled myself together a little as the wind blew into my face, tossing long strands of dark brown that tickled my lips, and I hunched over and headed for the library, making my way up the hill and through the old double doors, scanning my card into the study lounge. Once I was stationed in my favorite corner with a lousy 99-cent coffee from the machine, I took my phone from my pocket and stared at it for a while, my text exchange with my father feeling cold, sterile.

It had been a week since we’d last spoken. He’d told me about a work event that would have been today, and his tone told me he already expected me to say no. I said no—busy that day. He didn’t even respond.

And I wasn’t even busy this day. I’d just told myself I would get a lot of work done, and here I was, too stressed and overthinking everything too much to get anywhere.

Getting better had to start somewhere. Doing better had to start somewhere. So I sent a text.

Hey, Dad. Sorry I’ve been missing everything lately. Going to make time for it the next time something comes up.

I sent the text with a strange feeling in my chest, and I dropped my bag down on the table, scattering my notebooks everywhere. I pulled out my laptop, and I tried to sort through the coursework I still had coming up, just looking over it all with the vaguely sick feeling I usually got thinking about my workload.

And I was in the middle of it all when my gaze caught on a girl walking into the study lounge with her phone up to her ear—a short girl with black hair framing her face and a hoodie as a minidress, her hood up, with cat ears.

And I stared too much, because she looked over at me, doing a double take. I flinched, giving her a polite smile, and I turned back to my laptop, trying to ignore the studying look she gave me—if she knew me, then it was because Cass had complained about me, and I didn’t want to have that conversation with her—but apparently, what I want didn’t factor into things, because she walked towards me.

I glanced up prepared for a polite, cordial interaction, if one loaded with pointed undertones, but I didn’t even get that. She slammed her hands down on the other side of the table, giving me a look, and I leaned away from her.

“Giselle Lawson,” she said.

“Hi,” I said. “Er… Ava, is it?”

She stopped, scrunching up her face. “What? How do you know my name?”

“Oh. Cass told me you’re helping her.”

She blinked fast. “Cassandra Meyers? You two are tight?”

“Oh… er. We are.” I stared for a second before I closed my laptop, giving her an odd look. “How do you know me, then? I thought it was about that.”

“I had no idea you and Cassandra were friends. You’re the skater who was hitting on Primrose, right?”

I’d picked the wrong time to pick up my coffee, because I almost sloshed it down my front. “The—oh my god. I was not hitting on her! I swear.”

Ava pulled a chair up to the table, turning it around and sitting in it backwards, straddling the back and folding her arms on it. “Yeah, sure. I’m just here to say don’t try it.”

“I’m… I promise I’m not.” I felt my face burn. Talk about a nightmare—I swear I tried so damn hard not to be a creep when it came to women I was attracted to, and this was exactly the irrational fear I had every time.

She relaxed into a funny little lopsided smile. “I’ll give you that she’s pretty. But she’s my roommate, so I’ve seen the worst out of her. I’m just warning you for your own benefit.”

“Oh…” I blinked fast. She didn’t seem that bad. “Well—”

“She does not shut up. Not for her life. And she’s always doing something weird and new and will constantly harass you about it. And she’s high-maintenance, needs constant attention, and acts like she’s the main character of life. She dragged her poor boyfriend along on some wild dream to be a great skater that’s going to disappear in two weeks.”

I laughed. Ava made a face.

“It’s not funny. I’m the one who has to live with her.”

“I just think it’s cute,” I said, relaxing. “You two must be close, if you’re able to trash-talk her this comfortably to a complete stranger.”

That got a grin out of her. “We’ve got a couple mutual friends, so we’re close, one way or another. But I’m going to warn you, you do not want to try anything.”

“Promise I’m not,” I laughed. “Did you meet as roommates?”

“Nah. We knew each other for a bit already by then. I drew the short straw and had to live with her. We’re up in the November Complex, so I thought it would be nice, but I have to deal with her all the time.”

“Primrose lives in November?” It slipped out before I could question the better judgment of the question, and Ava gave me a look.

“Don’t get too interested in her.”

“I’m not,” I laughed, even though I was just getting more curious the more Ava talked about her. “It’s just interesting that she lives there. I have a few friends there.”

“I’m sure you do,” she said drily, and I wasn’t sure what to make of that. I knew it was a nice building, and an expensive one at that, and I guess it was her prerogative if she wanted to judge me for having friends with money, but… didn’t she just say she lived there, too?

“Well, I’ll keep my distance from Primrose if she comes around skating again.”

“Probably will, but I doubt she’s going to get Matthew to come along.” She paused, cocking her head. “How do you know Cassandra, anyway?”

“Oh… our families are friends. How do you know her? She doesn’t get out very much.”

“I just know people.” She pushed away from the table, standing up. “Oh, by the way, Primrose has dogshit terrible taste in food. In case you wanted one more reminder to avoid her. Now, I’ve got calls to make.”

“Have fun,” I called after her, and she walked away, flipping me off over her shoulder. Still, I think… I think that was how she expressed affection.

This was a bizarre day. I needed to go back to bed.

I opened my laptop, but I caught a sidelong glimpse of a text back from my father that made my stomach turn.

We’ll see if there is another time.

I stared at the phone for a long time with my mouth dry, feeling my heart beating faster, and this sensation like I was drifting—sinking—into something dark, heavy, that I couldn’t get out of.

I snapped myself back to reality. I had a paper to write.

∞∞∞

It was night by the time I was finally heading back to my dorm, up past the Henderson Gardens, and the quiet that settled over everything was addictive—I drank it in as much as I could, just tasting the clean, fresh air, listening to the crickets and night animals all around.

I took a detour through the garden—my usual routine, just as a treat to myself—and I listened to my boots crunch on the light scattering of leaves on the cobblestone path, watched the way fireflies danced above the little ponds. It was under the pale glow of a streetlamp that I turned a corner around a brick wall, though, and ran headlong into somebody—a thud and then staggering backwards, a girl’s voice as she fell into a seat on the ground.

“I’m so sorry,” I blurted, and I was halfway through kneeling to where she’d fallen that I realized I’d just—of all people—managed to collide with Primrose, wearing a black crop top and an oversized jacket, loose belted jeans, and her hair disheveled around her. “Oh… it’s you again.”

“God, I keep crashing into you,” she laughed, awkwardly, scratching the back of her head. “I am so sorry, um… Giselle, right?”

“Don’t be sorry. I’m the one walking with my head in the clouds. Do you need help getting up?”

“Oh, uh…” She looked wide-eyed at where I offered a hand, and I had just enough time to realize I needed to stop trying to hold her hand before she smiled shyly at me, slipping hers into mine. “Thanks. Once again. I appreciate it a lot.”

I helped lift her back up to her feet, stumbling a little but collecting herself, brushing the dirt off her pants. “Don’t worry about it.”

She looked down, still a little shy, and kicked her sneakers at the ground. “I wanted to say thank you for all your help at the rink… you approaching me just to make sure I was okay, taking me out onto the ice, showing me how to do it. It means a lot.”

And the reason she’d run away suddenly halfway through the session? I hoped it wasn’t connected to Ava telling me not to hit on her. “Happy I could help. I just didn’t want you falling catastrophically… and I hear you’re pretty passionate about learning to skate.”

She went wide-eyed. “What? Where’d you hear that?”

“Oh, right…” I looked away. “I bumped into your roommate Ava earlier.”

“Oh, no.” She cringed. “Did she say anything awful about me?”

I paused. “She did, but I think she said it… lovingly?”

She laughed, a twinkle in her eyes. “Oh… sounds like you got a good read on her already. How did you meet—” She shifted from one foot to the other, and she winced, tugging her foot back.

“Are you okay?”

“I think I pulled something… when I fell just now.” She shifted her weight again, grimacing before she gave up and leaned back onto her other foot. “That’s so embarrassing… you’re out here doing flying flips and everything and I can’t even stand up.”

“Hey, relax,” I laughed. “I injure myself all the time, and it’s never from anything flashy. Usually just from falling over for no reason. Do you need some help getting back to your complex? It’s still uphill from here.”

She sighed, hanging her head. “Ava mentioned where we live, too, huh?”

“Oh… yeah. She said she thought November would be nice, but then she has to room with you.”

She laughed. “She’s such a jerk. Ugh…” Her face fell as she tested her weight on her other foot again. “I really don’t want to keep taking up all your time.”

“It’s fine. I’m in the same direction.”

She softened. “Are you sure? I really appreciate it…”

“Sure I’m sure. Do you need support or something? You look a little like I need to carry you back, wounded warrior style.”

“I would love to be spoiled like that, but I don’t think you could.”

I folded my arms. “Figure skating is some pretty rigorous athletics, Primrose. And you look light. I could carry you from one end of campus to the other.”

She blinked fast, a flush creeping over her cheeks, and I didn’t get time to regret saying it before she put her hands on her hips with a defiant smile. “Try.”

Well, if she insisted. Ava would be furious if she saw this, but right now, here in the low nighttime breeze, it was just the two of us, and—well, nobody issued me a challenge and got away with it. I stepped forward, and I stooped a little, sweeping an arm under her knees, and she let out a surprised squeal, throwing her arms over my shoulders for support as I swept her up bridal-style in my arms.

“Oh my god—” she burst out laughing, clinging tightly to me. “You could have at least pretended it’s not easy!”

She was so warm… I felt like maybe she did just run warm, after she’d told me how cold my hands were at the rink. It was comfortable, warm and satisfying holding her close to me like this, and she was close enough to me I felt like I flashed back to when we’d been pressed close together on the ice.

Which was not the headspace I was supposed to be in. Andrea and I had just broken up, and I was just in a… in a weird place. And susceptible to pretty blue eyes.

“You’re going to need some more muscle if you want that to be hard for me,” I said. “I bet I could stack Ava on top of you and carry you both.”

“That hardly counts for anything. She’s like a Barbie doll.”

“Touché. Shall we?” I turned and took a step towards the exit, and she let out a nervous laugh, holding tighter onto me.

“Don’t drop me, okay?”

“I won’t. It’s a promise. Just hold on tight.”