Emille

Chapter 2

Surrounded by the utterly mundane walls of her dorm room, Emille felt a lot less certain about her need to have the journal. Why had she been so sure that she was meant to have it? The journal seemed to shine a little less when resting upon Emille's fluffy pillows, propped up next to her MacBook. It didn't belong here. Not in this era. It belonged amongst the other old books in forgotten parts of libraries.

With a start, Emille realized that she had done it again--made grand assumptions about the journal. Where she'd drawn these conclusions from, she had no clue. Perhaps she'd read too many fantasy books. Perhaps she was beginning to rewrite her own reality.

The turning of the door knob sliced through the air, cutting off Emille's spiraling thoughts. She quickly shoved the journal under her pillow and plopped her laptop onto her lap. She didn't have the energy or the inclination to explain the journal. She also didn't know if she could explain the journal.

"Hey! How was class?"

Emille looked up at the source of the chipper greeting: Isa. She murmured a noncommittal, "Good", and closed her laptop as if she'd been studying all along.

"I am exhausted," Isa said, reclining gratefully onto the bed. Emille marvelled at how graceful she was, even mid-grimace.

"Why?"

Isa sighed deeply, and turned to face Emille, kicking off her shoes in one fluid movement. Her usually neat black eyeliner was slightly smudged, accentuating the mischievous twinkle in her dark eyes.

"Freaking. Mateo."

Emille groaned, shooting an understanding smirk at Isa. She knew exactly what type of nonsense was in store for her when a rant session began with "freaking Mateo".

Isa pushed on, barely noting Emille's response. Once she got started, it was hard to get her to stop. Not that Emille would want her to stop. It was a nice break from the monotony of school work.

"He's so...hot and cold. We just spent three hours in a dark lab doing our work by flashlight. You'd think that would be super romantic. But he pretty much ignored me the whole time. I'm so confused." Isa pushed out her lower lip, somehow pulling off a perfect pout.

"I don't know how romantic an experiment can be," Emille began, ignoring the eye roll from Isa, "but why do you care? He's not a catch."

Isa rolled onto her stomach, propping herself up onto her elbows. "Because when he's nice, he's nice." She smiled softly at this.

Emille understood where she was coming from. She didn't expect much from guys. It made a little bit of kindness go a long way. Nevertheless, she didn't understand the appeal of pursuing a walking homework assignment. She'd met Mateo. She understood the appeal. He was charming, and smart. He could really hold a conversation and make you feel heard. But that was it. You got what you got with Mateo.

"I don't know," Isa murmured, grinning cheekily. "I like a challenge."

Ain't that the truth.

"I know."

Isa launched herself out of bed, shaking off the subtle jibe from Emille. With the strength of a much larger person, she dragged Emille out of bed.

"I need to clear my head. Come on a walk with me."

Emille stumbled into their shared closet, grabbing her brown leather jacket without protest. She shrugged it on, reveling in the familiarity. She always felt a little braver in this jacket. She followed Isa, who was tapping her fingers anxiously, out of the door. She clearly needed a nice, long walk.