Hold Me Closer

Part Nine

JASON'S POINT OF VIEW

I couldn't sleep. After tossing and turning for a couple of hours, even putting on bloody Bach to try and sooth me into falling asleep, I had finally given up at 5.31 am. I was going to look like shit tomorrow, I thought, groaning into my pillow.

Flicking on the light, I picked up my phone from my bedside table. When I had first moved to Arundel Academy, my father had insisted that I have his old room, which meant that I had a nice space to myself. Big windows took up the Eastern walls and a Victorian fireplace was mounted into the wall opposite my bed, its mantlepiece filled with various football awards that I had won.

And don't get me wrong, I was grateful to have a little bit more room, and the mini-fridge filled with beers didn't suck either, but...it could be fucking lonely at times too. The 'Founders Room' was a hallway away from the others boy's dorms and while Nick sent snobby texts about how much it sucked having to share a bathroom with Ben, I couldn't help but think that I'd have a better chance at fitting in if I wasn't so set apart from the rest of them.

A couple of years ago when I was getting wasted, I used to host big parties and live off the feeling of being an insider that it gave me. I'd revel in it, doing stupid drunk stunts so I could show them all that I wasn't some perfect replica of my father. 

Almost subconsciously, I was scrolling through my phone to the one thing that changed all of that for me. Her profile was sparse, only a handful of posts and couple of highlights saved, all labelled funny little names like "faces and spaces". At the start, I felt foolish doing this, like I was twelve again with a first crush, but now it had become habit. I zoomed in on her last post, a photo of her and Meg on a walk in the Sussex National Trails, laughing candidly as they kicked puddles of water at each other. 

God she was beautiful. At the start, I had to admit, I'd dismissed her. I was a cocky prick then, thinking that because every girl before had thrown themselves at me that she'd be another- and while normally that was flattering I'd started off the day with a fighting match with my father. I can't understand how I could have done that now. How I could have looked at that face, those expressive green eyes, plump lips...

But it was more than that. With Olive, I didn't feel lonely or pitied. I felt like there was a sort of magnetism between us and it didn't feel quite right until I had spotted her in the room. I smiled to myself slightly as I imagined the way that she'd scowl at me, or flip me off but blush when I'd said something complimentary, or furrow her brow when she thought a topic was interesting.

"Idiot," I muttered to myself, throwing my phone back down on the bed.

It was clear Olive didn't feel the same way. I mean, bloody hell, I'd tried to kiss her and she'd ducked. How much more sign posting did my brain need? It sucked, and the words that she'd said the other day were like another sucker punch- "You're a good friend Jason"- even if that had made my heart sing in some small way. To know that maybe I could do half as much for her as she had done for me.

My phone pinged with a notification and I flicked it over wearily. It was a calendar notification, reminding me that today was my mother's birthday. My heart sank a little and I ran a hand through my hair, giving up on sleep for the night.

Walking over and opening the curtains, I shoved my feet into a some socks and called my mum. She'd be awake already, she was always up before the rest of us, sorting out the estate and bossing people around. She lived for that kind of stuff.

"Jason," she said, her voice breaking through the dial tone. "You're up early."

I hesitated, feeling a small wave of awkwardness rush over me. Clearing my throat loudly, I said "Yeah, um, I couldn't really sleep."