Blue Eyes, White Lies

Chapter 7

I wake up to Julian's words before leaving my room rattling in my head. 

I can safely say that's the first time I've been read a bedtime story since I was six. Somehow, it's given me the best sleep I've had since high school. College takes all of the energy out of you. In freshman year, I'm sure my blood would have qualified for an energy drink if there were any more caffeine in it. 

Speaking of Julian, wouldn't that make him hundreds of years old? If this is a folktale old enough I wouldn't know it (trust me, I know folktales, I went through a phase), then how old would he be? 

If he's 400... Why does he 

A. Not know how to socialize. Seriously, I don't have a social life and I have better conversational skills than he does. 

B. Not know literally everything. Immortals and old folks in movies always do. I guess it gets boring, so you learn all you can. 

This dude is so lonely he's only friends with his roommate. He doesn't even have a dog! Or a fish, or something...

With that in mind, I get my ass out of my bed, and head down for what I hope is breakfast where Julian actually talks to me. Or talks at all.

We have what I think is deer jerky, and some eggs and whatever kind of forest meat they've found this time. 

Typically, venison is not something I would eat, however, when you're Eric, you manage to make deer of all things taste like heaven. 

Julian looks up at me grabbing a plate, trying to make conversation. He's reading something, probably another true crime novel. 

"You like the meat?"

Like I said, I do. Very much. 

"Yeah, it's not usually the type I'd eat, but he's skilled."

Eric looks up from his pan, wearing a classic "kiss the cook" apron.

"Hunted it myself. Sometime soon, I've ought to show ya how to use a crossbow. Especially if you're not into hunting with a shotgun."

Something about him puts me off. His hair seems more frazzled, like he didn't care to brush it. Maybe it's his eyes? They look brighter than last night . They have a strange orange tint to them that I just can't place. 

His voice even seems hoarse, like he's exhausted it. I'm hoping it's just a case of winter allergies, or a cold. He's outdoors all the time, even when the cold physically hurts. I'm sure that'd hurt your vocal cords somehow.

 I'm a law major, not a med major. What else can I say? 

"Hunting isn't up my alley. I'm hardly strong enough to hold a gun, and I'm definitely not mentally strong enough to kill something." I reply. I tried once trying to fit in in high school, that did not go over well.

"If shootin isn't up your alley, can I at least teach ya somethin about trapping? Ya don't watch anythin', you just go collect it once you hear a snap."

I shake my head. "Still not my style, but if you know any good places to fish, I'm happy to learn."

He sets his pan down for a second and scruffs my hair. 

"I knew you had some kind of nature lover in ya!"

He goes back to cooking as Julian speaks.

"There's a salmon river near here. It's about a mile away. Only rough part is the bears that live around it. Eric hunts them in the spring. If you'd like, I'll take you out to the fishing spot later." He says, not looking up from his food or the book he's reading.