Leave it Unread

Chapter 11

Ben's POV:

I wish I could say that seeing Kathleen walking towards Noelle and I earlier today would have triggered a better response than making Noelle feel like crumbled up trash, but it didn't. When Noelle had mentioned her name the other day, I knew exactly who she was talking about. But confrontation is something I'm terrible at, and I could see the way talking about her personal life was something she was hesitant about. I guess I just wanted to ease that anxiety, but, of course, I failed. I've always failed at consoling people.

Kathleen's the girl I saw walk with Noelle towards general orientation before everyone got split up to follow their dedicated major area. I had noticed her from Tinder a day prior, but hesitated to swipe right. You see, Kathleen is the kind of girl I've always dated--someone who is so strikingly similar in looks, poised and concise, no room for error. My parents thrived on bringing this kind of girl home, but it never lasted. The longest relationship I had was when I was a junior in high school. Her name was Mackenzie and she was, you guessed it, cheerleading captain. Our breakup, you ask? Over text (initiated by her--she was upset that I was becoming detached. I don't blame her.) 

So when it came to Kathleen, I was right to hesitate, due to the fact that the girl standing next to her was equally as stunning, yet polar opposite of me. And for once, without my parents around, without my high school crew telling me she isn't my type, I felt a pull. I wanted to know her. 

She had dark, brown waves to her hips, visibly shorter next to Kathleen in a way that you would think would minimize her, but she stood there like she had no idea what was happening. She looked lost in a way where she still knew her way. It was unsettling, for once, feeling gravitated towards someone who my parents would call a "coke and whiskey." It was a predictable drink at their dinner parties, and if they saw this brunette, they'd steer me away from her. They'd say she's predictable, probably take one look at her and think she's in no way fit for a Jacobs (yeah, they immediately jump to potential courtship like it's the Victorian era). All because she doesn't have that Midwestern charm you can pinpoint the minute you see a Midwesterner. "Predictable," my father would mutter. "Probably a West Coast dreamer."

It would all stem from the fact that this girl looked like she was a follower, and that proved right in the way she followed Kathleen. You could tell they were friends, but not the conventional kind of friendship you see between people--Kathleen was tapping the brunette's shoulder like a little puppy, the brunette, in response, nodding along as to brush off whatever it was she was saying. Kathleen was visibly acting superior, and the brunette looked exhausted because of it.

In the end, I swiped right because I needed to know who this brunette was, only for her to end up following the English major crowd which felt like I made a monumental mistake by even swiping right in the first place. Thinking it would go nowhere, I followed the brunette with the crowd, making it my mission to introduce myself. I'd get to know her, I promised. Parents be damned.

What I didn't know was that Kathleen would swipe right on me as well. And when I realized that I had committed, it felt messy. It felt deceitful to even swipe right on her to get to someone else. Not that she wasn't stunning, I mean, she was. But the brunette, who turned out to be Noelle, who then turned out to be my peer-review partner, was what I needed to feel at home here. And with Iowa being my home my whole life, I got tired of the routine lifestyle. The girls my parents applauded for being all in the same, the blondes with their 4.0 GPA's you know their daddy's paid for. It's hypocritical, how predictable they are but how anyone who doesn't fit the standards is labeled as the predictable ones. 

So, here I am, in my post-fuck-up phase, where Noelle hates me and Kathleen's asked me to meet. I had been an ass to Noelle, and where that temper came from, I have no idea. It wasn't right, the way I confronted her about not telling me about Kathleen. What she didn't know was that I knew the entire time. I knew before we even met. But how could I tell Noelle that I saw her on day one, felt like all my poetry could go to shit because the way she carried herself was prose in itself.