6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Lou

That arrogant, son of a bi-

“And what might your name be Miss?”

I look up to find the most well-kept goatee I’ve ever seen towering over me. Sneaking a glance at my watch, I wince. Twenty minutes late. I knew I should have grabbed lunch after class. Hunger be damned.

“Lou Mackenzie, sir. I’m so sorry for being late, it won’t happen again.”

“I see.” I slump in my seat as the professor turns to address the class, praying my face isn’t as red as it feels.

“Today’s lesson is on a term called operant conditioning, a learning process that occurs when two repeating stimuli are repeatedly paired. I originally prepared a PowerPoint with some videos to go over with everyone, but thanks to Miss Mackenzie, now we have the opportunity for a real-life demonstration.” I freeze, feeling the entire auditorium look in my direction.

“The first stimuli of our demonstration is a student turning up late to class. Now, if this response is met unchallenged, there is no reason for such behaviour to change. Thus, using the general idea of operant conditioning, to reinforce the knowledge that tardiness will not be tolerated in my class, I condemn each and every one of you to a ten-page paper defining the advantages and disadvantages of such conditioning in a domestic setting. The paper is due on my desk by 9am Monday morning and will account for 20% of your overall grade. Remember to cite your sources. Now, please open your textbooks to page 367…”

The professor’s voice drones on as I slide further into my seat. The stares have turned into glares, and the animosity flowing my way feels strong enough to start a fire. The guy on my right shifts his chair as far away from me as possible. He can probably smell the shame wafting from my poutine.

The rest of the class goes by at a snail’s pace and as soon as we’re dismissed, I launch out of my seat and make a break for the exit. The last thing I need is a black eye from one of my classmates.

I head straight for the courtyard, hoping it will be far enough away to hide from my classmates’ hostility so I can finally eat my lunch. After all that, I still didn’t cure my hunger because I was too scared it’d turn into another conditioning moment.

Well class, given that Miss Mackenzie insists on eating her carbs instead of taking notes, every one of you will have to go on a carb-free diet for the rest of the semester.

I groan at the mental picture, finally opening the box to Taber’s ridiculously delicious poutine. The cheese and fries are soggy from sitting so long in the gravy and the cold temperature gives the whole thing an odd texture, but right now it is the best thing I have ever tasted.

Who knew tyrant teachers could build such an appetite?

I moan when I find a lukewarm fry and out of nowhere a male voice interrupts my courtyard feast, “Normally I have to put in a lot more effort to get those sounds from pretty girls, but I’m glad my presence does it for you, Trip.”

My head snaps towards the sound, and I blink as my seated gaze meets a black t-shirt. A tight black t-shirt. One that stretches across broad shoulders, perfectly formed pecs, and hints at a six-pack underneath. Registering the specimen before me, my thought process all but obliterates as boyish dimples flash my way. Trying not to focus on the fact this gorgeous guy just called me pretty, I do my best to look annoyed.

“I doubt you have to put much effort in when it comes to girls, Wes. Why are you here?”

“Hey, it’s not my fault I’m naturally charming. I’ve been told I have a yellow aura. Never been very good with aura distinctions but apparently that’s a good one.” With a sigh, Wes plops down next to me on the bench.

I stiffen, trying not to let his leg brush against mine.

“I came to see if you were okay. It wasn’t cool for Anderson to call you out like that, let alone make you a target for every wannabe partygoer this weekend.”

“Oh,” I am ashamed to say I am once again surprised by Wes’ kindness.

This is the second time he’s put in the effort to comfort me, to make sure I’m okay, yet it still feels like a shock to the system. Maybe it’s because I’m not used to the whole having-friends thing. The last three years was me searching for quiet places to escape, trying to isolate myself from the endless strain of loneliness. As dumb as it sounds, I found it easier being alone than being invisible among a group of people.

Having people like Stella and Wes in my life, friends who go out of their way to show they care, feels… unnatural. It’s like I’ve been living in my protective bubble for so long, I’ve forgotten what friendships are supposed to be like.

“I appreciate the check-in, Wes. I’m doing alright, mostly feel guilty for ruining everyone’s weekend. I’m definitely public enemy number one right now.”

Wes nods without hesitation, “Oh, for sure. I wouldn’t be surprised if your name gets changed to She Who Must Not Be Named.” I laugh despite myself.

Other than Stella, I’ve never found anyone so easy to interact with before. It’s as though Wes’ outrageous confidence gives me a safety net; I don’t have to worry my own social skills are lacking because I know the social butterfly next to me will make up for it.

Throwing his arm around the back of the bench, Wes leans back and takes in the scenery. “This place is gorgeous. How did you find it?”

“I took a shortcut after grabbing my textbooks the other day. Aren’t the flowers amazing?”

“They’re incredible. I’ve never seen marigolds so vibrant.” It takes a second for my brain to register the name drop.

“A big flower guy, eh?”

Chuckling, Wes leans in as if to confide a secret, “Don’t tell the boys, but I could name every flower present.”

My jaw drops, “No way.”

“Way, I’ll prove it to you if you want.” Unable to stop myself, I start randomly pointing at different flowers.

“Pansies. Violas. Daisies…” Coming up with a different name for each one, turns out Wes has been a closet plant mom this whole time. Mind you, I have no idea if the names he’s rattling off are real or if he’s making them up. Other than colour differences, the flowers all look the same to me.

Once we go through the entire row lining our stone bench, I finally give the game a rest. “That is amazing. Do you study garden books in your spare time?”

Grinning, Wes shakes his head, “My botanical knowledge is thanks to my younger sister. She’s a garden geek, so every year I give her a different flower for her birthday. Problem is, she started the obsession back when she was five, so I used up the easy ones early on. Now I have to look for three syllable monstrosities and cross check the ongoing list I have.”

I smile at the memory, “I’m sure she looks forward to that every year. How old is she?”

“Turning seventeen this year. There’s only thirteen months between us.” Wes pauses to wipe fake tears from his eyes. “They grow so fast. Soon Lacey will be embarking on her own university adventure.” Laughing, I shake my head. Wes and his theatrics.

Smiling, Wes gently bumps his shoulder into mine. “What about you? Any annoying siblings back home?”

“I’m afraid it’s just me, myself, and I. Although, sometimes my mother acts more like an older sister than my mother.” A playful grin tugs at Wes’ lips.

“Oh, I remember your mother. Still waiting on that number, you know.”

“Oh my god. Don’t be such a creep.” I slap his arm, forgetting my no-touching rule when it comes to Wes.

As ridiculous as it sounds, I implemented this rule to ensure nothing happens between Wes and me. Stella heard some rumours about a new all-star rookie who’s been making his way through the female population of campus, and although names weren’t mentioned, given Wes’ natural swagger and boyish charm, it doesn’t take much to put two and two together. Not that there’s anything wrong with promiscuous activities, but it doesn’t exactly scream boyfriend material. And knowing my luck, Wes would be my first, I’d fall madly in love, then he would move on to the next girl he knocks over.

I’ve lost enough friendships over the years; I don’t want to lose this one too.

My hand appears to be a little behind on the memo because instead of slapping Wes’ arm and moving away like a normal hand does, it decides to stay resting on his bicep. We both look down at my traitorous fingers and before I can snatch my hand away, he looks up and catches my eye.

I’m not sure if emeralds were ever used in hypnosis, but Wes’ eyes sure as heck could have been. The sparkling green beckons me closer and without realizing it, I start to lean in. His gaze flicks to my lips then back up to my eyes.

“Trip, I-

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you. Oh, hi Wes.” Stella’s voice breaks the trance and I fly off the bench, jumping away from Wes and his mesmerizing eyes.

I hear Wes slowly get up behind me and I will myself not to look back. I can feel the blush rising to my cheeks and the last thing I need is to become a full-blown tomato from making eye contact with the guy I almost kissed.

Oh my god. I almost kissed Wes.

The headache forming at the base of my skull feels like a neon sign with the words THIS IS WHY WE HAVE A NO TOUCHING RULE pounding repeatedly against my brain.

Ugh. Today is not going well.

“Stella, I’m so sorry. I totally forgot we were supposed to meet in the library.” After the psych disaster and my impending hunger, our study session completely slipped my mind.

Worst. Roommate. Ever.

“It’s no biggie, I’m glad Wes was here to… keep you company.” The raised eyebrow and pointed look tells me there will be a debriefing happening very soon.

Remaining uncharacteristically quiet in the background, Wes finally pipes up, “Stella, it’s nice to see you. Trip,” he throws me a brief smile, dimples noticeably absent. “I’ll see you around. Enjoy the rest of your day ladies.” And with that, Wes turns and walks in the opposite direction.

I tamp down the disappointment building in my chest and turn to see my tiny roommate plant her hands on her hips. “You’ve got some explaining to do, missy. And you better not skimp out on the details.”