Leave it Unread

Chapter 4

It's Monday morning and I had barely slept a peep through the night due to Kathleen's squealing. Every hour or so, her phone would ding with a message from Ben. After awhile, I was sleepily responding to Kathleen which still somehow impressed Ben.

Intro to creative writing starts in a couple of hours, so for the time being, I make myself useful by braiding my hair and brushing out my bangs. The long, brown locks are soft due to last night's deep conditioning while Kathleen looked around for Ben (news flash, he wasn't there), her texts remaining unread as I stood in the shower in exhaustion.

Kathleen's biology class thankfully started at 8 A.M., and with it being only 9 A.M., I have a good half hour before her texts start bombarding my phone. I think about telling Kathleen that I need space, both physically and metaphorically--that I need to take a mental checkout from her tinder woes. It feels selfish for a second until I remember that we're both thinking about the same guy, that my words are making him smile while I'm left out of the picture.

But it's always been that way. It's always been Kathleen, the one seeked out more so than the one seeking. It's always been Kathleen who wins the good guys.

I consider what I'll say to Ben when I see him in class today: "hey, you're kinda talking to my best friend!" or maybe I'll be more blunt: "hey, you're kinda talking to my best friend but it's really me who is responding to you." 

I shake my thoughts as I button my white blouse (the one with the books that the Trader Joe cashier complimented) and grab my bag, deciding I'd sit in the English department first floor hallway until class starts. All first-year students show up an hour and a half early, right?

***

I consider grabbing a hot coffee (even though the temperature is a crisp 85 degrees) to fit the English major aesthetic and instead settle for an iced tea, walking towards the department with my phone settled between my chin and chest as I put sugar in it.

"Barrymore, you have a bag right there."

I freeze. It's Ben Jacobs. He's talking to me. At the coffee cart. With people around.

I turn around and lift my head up as my phone promises to land on the ground, only for Ben's hands to catch it quickly, his backpack strap sliding down his arm as he takes a deep breath.

"I know people are usually starstruck to see me, but you don't have to go around breaking a perfectly fine piece of electronic excellence." He eyes my phone for a second, a smile twitching on his lips as he takes in the wallpaper. It's a picture of me when I was six on my dad's shoulders at Disneyland. The Mickey ears are way too big for my head as my dad looks up at me holding them in place.

"Your dad?" He asks, looking down at me as he hands me my phone. He tells the coffee cart cashier for a black coffee (which the cashier happily gets to quickly with a smile lighting up his eyes that Ben Jacobs looks directly into, something he always does when he speaks to people which you'd think would be intimidating). 

"Oh, yeah, my dad." I say, taking a sip of my tea as I throw my phone in my bag. Surprisingly Kathleen hasn't messaged me, which makes me think about the phone in Ben's pocket.

"Is he still...?"

"Oh," I pause, having to think for a minute as I take in Ben's question if my dad is a live or not. "Yeah, yeah, he's alive and well. He's a professor here." I smile, thinking of my dad lecturing as we speak.

"Woah, cool!" Ben smiles widely, the same smile that his profile picture on Tinder showcased. All whites, lips full, his smile nearly reaching his eyes which shine as the sun shines on them. He takes his coffee and seems to be waiting for me to move, which I have no idea how to process--does he want me to accompany him?