The Shadows Of Yesterday

The Shadows Of Yesterday {4}

He stopped at our table, and I was jealous that he hardly seemed out of breath. He held my jacket out to me, looking proud.

"Found ya," he said. "I believe this is yours."

"Uh, yea," I said, taking it from him. It smelled like laundry detergent. "I told you to just give it to Professor Caddell."

"Uh, well, I kinda forgot who you said to give it to," he admitted, grin turning sheepish. "I was a little drunk, after all. But I figured I'd find you if I looked around. Asked my friends to keep an eye out for you, too, but you don't have anything obvious like pink hair to make you stand out."

"Suppose I don't," I said, sniffing my jacket. Definitely laundry detergent. "Did you wash it?"

"Yea. Oh! But I asked my friend how to wash it first, so I wouldn't ruin it. I suck at laundry. I just throw everything in the dryer and let Jesus take the wheel or whatever," he said. "It smelled like cheap beer and weed. Figured it was a little rude to bring it back like that."

"It always smells like cheap beer and weed," Ziv said.

I swiftly kicked him under the table. "No one asked you. And no, it doesn't. I wash it often enough. Well, alright, sometimes it does smell like weed. But not cheap beer!"

I pulled my jacket on, rolling the sleeves up to my elbows. It felt good to be reunited with it, stupid as that might seem. I was just relieved he gave it back, but it was nice that he washed it and even made an effort to wash it properly.

"Thanks," I said to him. "I appreciate having it back."

"I appreciate not freezing my nuts off on the walk home that night," he said. "Lost my shirt, though. Bummer. Did find my friends, though! They totally ditched me, but they did try to text me. I, ah, kinda lost my phone at some point, though, so I never got it."

Jeez, I thought he'd just been a talkative drunk, but this guy looked like he could carry on a one-sided conversation for hours. I was also realizing that it hadn't just been drunk slurring warping his words that night, but that he had an accent. He sounded like he was from one of the bigger cities; those kids around campus that talked too fast and chopped up their own words to speed up their speech even more.

"Well, glad you kept your nuts and found your friends," I said.

"Knew you'd be glad for at least one of those," he said.

"Should I go?" Ziv said. "I feel like I should go."

"Nah, he already shot me down," Arlo said good naturedly. "Gotta keep trying in case he changes his mind though, right?"

But he shot me a look that seemed to ask if that was okay. I raised my drink to him.

"Cheers to pitiful determination," I said, because I found no harm in a little light-hearted flirting. That, and I appreciated that he was willing to back off with just a word from me.

He brightened. "Hell yea! Er, wait, was that an insult or a complement?"

"Yes," I said.

He furrowed his brow. Ziv sighed.

"Play nice, Jeremy," he said. "You're confusing him."

"Shame." I pushed the chip bag towards him. "Quick snack?"

He didn't sit down at our table, but he did move closer and accept a handful of chips. "Alright, so I met Jeremy at the party. Who're you?"

"Name's Ziv," Ziv said.

"Ziv," Arlo repeated to himself, nodding like he'd memorized it. Ziv was entirely used to people frowning and asking him to repeat his name, so he seemed surprised Arlo didn't do that. "Gotcha. I'm Arlo."