Right Person Too Late

chapter 3

Noah

"I know she'll be the death of me."

Song: I Can't Feel My Face by The Weeknd

"Why are you attacking me like this Noah?!" Thomas genuinely looks confused. It makes me feel bad for yelling at him for a second, but only a second. He's been doing this too much, running off people by not letting them in, although any student from the uni can technically use the resources as long as they pay. But he only lets in the people that he "approves of". Great, because that's exactly what we need in this world: more Thomas clones.

"Thomas, look I get that you're just trying to do your job here, but you have to call up and ask the residents if they're expecting someone or anything of the sort from now on," I say in exasperation, dropping my arms down to my sides, giving up. "Ok, well I've got to get going, cya. Just...stop doing whatever it is you've been doing. Please."

He lowers his head in shame and mumbles in reply, "Okay, I'm sorry, good night."

Everyone hates him and gets extremely sick of his attitude, but he's like an abandoned puppy, someone that's never been cared for. Which is the only reason I put up with him.

I walk into the lift and let out a heavy sigh. This week was going great until I bumped into Arsema at the end of class and realised that she never even recognised me. Which hurt a lot more than I thought it ever would.

I knew it was her the second she looked up at me with those enchanting eyes of hers. Brown, with golden flecks in them. I've always thought about what I'd say to if I saw her again; yell at her, be mad, or even ignore her, but the second our gazes connected I was at loss for words and couldn't figure out what emotion to feel.

Ding.

The lift door opens and I walk out sideways as a couple walks in. When I reach our studio and reach into my pocket to get my keys the door flings open and reveals a tired-looking Miles.

Miles and I have been friends since birth, and have always stuck together despite our differences in everything from race - I'm Spanish where he's African-American - hobbies to personalities. We however do have a common denominator, basketball. We joined our high school basketball team together in Year 8 and discovered we were both pretty good, so we continued in uni - me at Sydeny Uni before I started at Melbourne Uni last Christmas - and not to blow our own horns but with us and a couple of other amazing players, this uni has the best basketball team in the southern hemisphere.

"Noah. Please tell me why I signed up for this damn committee?" Of course, that's what he's tired of. I walk past him and throw my jacket onto our designated 'clothes' chair. Miles claims that no place is home until you've got a 'clothes' chair, and I've got to say it's pretty useful when you don't want to go into your room.

"Because it's a chick magnet, and they dig that kind of stuff? Your words, not mine by the way. Oh and because your guidance counsellor said you need to participate in a school activity that doesn't involve sport so you don't fail this year."

He follows me as I walk over to the fridge, grab a beer and sit on the sofa, flopping down beside me.

"Yeah well, I give up. It's bullshit, do you know how much homework I got? And it's only day one."

"Can't do that though, can ya mate?" I point out, taking a pull of my beer.

Grumbling, he gets up and grabs a beer, sitting back down next to me.

"Oh I forgot, this girl downstairs asked me to give this to you, she said it's from her friend. And that you must get it." I say with emphasis on the must, remembering how much she'd stressed how important it is he get it, fishing it out of my back pocket.