Flatmate

Chapter 4 - Aaron

I spent quite a bit of time with Aaron over the next few weeks or so. He seemed like the type to go for fake geek girls, rather than actual nerds like myself, so I played the cute-but-slightly-dumb angle to keep him happy. This was rather ironic, considering he was barely scraping a pass at that point, whereas I was nearly top of the class, but I didn't really mind. Acting differently to please other people wasn't exactly new to me - the tipping point was around the age of ten, when my parents ushered me towards make-up and more girly hobbies, rather than the chemistry set I longed for and the maths textbook I wanted so desperately. I guess most people would see this as sad, or unfair, maybe, but it never bothered me. I get to do what I want now, my parents got to raise a "proper" daughter, and family meltdowns were kept to a minimum. It was a win-win situation, really, especially as now I was well equipped to keep Aaron interested.

I was constantly making mental notes in his presence:

he reacts positively to giggling

he doesn't put sugar in his coffee unless he has it with milk

he liked to be holding something - a cup, a book, my hand...

It was genuinely fascinating for me. I'd never observed a person in such close detail, and I'd never even viewed someone from that angle before. I was pretty sure he counted as a boyfriend, but it was a relief to have it confirmed when he invited me to a party so he could "introduce me to his friends as" (here he coughed, and blushed, which I suppose I should have found endearing somehow) "his girlfriend". I acted delighted, thrilled, overjoyed by this prospect. I must have driven him crazy - I asked him what I should wear a good four times. I noted his reaction:

he enjoys having the opportunity to be condescending

On the evening of the party, I dressed carefully. I knew I needed to get the balance right between cute and sexy - I didn't want to seem too different from my normal self, but at the same time I was aware his friends wouldn't be impressed if I turned up wearing a baggy t shirt and jeans. I needed to be everything Aaron wanted, but as the party grew nearer and nearer I grew less and less confident that I knew what that was.

Aaron himself remained unsurprisingly un-extraordinary. His obsession with plaid shirts was second only to his obsession with music, although I have to admit I was impressed by the latter; while I never paid much attention to the sounds blasting out when it was his turn to choose a song, there were many other artists he could've liked that more closely resembled me making breakfast while still half asleep (i.e., lots of clanging, bashing and swearing).

I waited by the door with baited breath on the night of the party. Being a rude, introverted nerd, I wasn't exactly most people's first choice when they were handing out invites, and so this was my first party since birthday events at age ten. If it weren't for Aaron's persistence, I wouldn't be going to this one either - I would be curled up in bed with my laptop and a hot chocolate, and wearing clothes that were far more comfortable than the dress I'd finally chosen after hours of deliberation (I'd even asked for Lucy's help). I was absolutely determined not to mess anything up that night.

Aaron arrived four minutes and twenty three seconds late - yes, I was giving the clock my undivided attention - with a laid back attitude that mildly grated on my already shredded nerves.

"Alright, babe?" He grinned. "Ready to go?"

I took a deep breath as subtly as I could manage, and smiled.

"Sure." Turning back briefly, I shouted goodbye to Lucy, and closed the door behind me. Aaron bent to kiss me and I tried not to panic, which was difficult, as I was hyperaware of the layer of lipstick between our mouths. This is the kind of thing no one ever teaches you, I thought. No one ever told me how to kiss someone while wearing makeup, and here I was, internally screaming as our lips touched through the layer of coloured wax. As he pulled away, I stared intently at his face to make sure I hadn't accidentally made him look like he had a really bad rash. Fortunately, there was no sign of makeup, but that made me freak out too - had mine already faded? Did I look good enough? Why was I going to this thing anyway?

As we walked, he gave me a sidelong glance with a little smirk playing on his face.

"So..." he began. "When do I get to meet your friends?"

His tone was playful, but I could tell that he was digging a little. By then, he surely would have noticed that I never seemed to be busy when he called - only ever studying or reading or in class.

I raised my eyebrows. "What friends?"

He focused his attention on the sky briefly, as he did when he was thinking, then turned back to me saying "Well, you must have some."
There was a faint hint of disgust in his voice - very, very faint, but there nonetheless. Maybe he thought I wasn't good enough for him without popularity points. Maybe he didn't want a loser for a girlfriend.

Something hit me; as all possible explanations for his disdain filled my head, I realised that I could smell a tint of alcohol when I was close to him. This was the first time I'd been with him while he was intoxicated, even if it was only slightly, when I wasn't. I've read the studies, I know the facts - people are more honest when they're drunk, and I could see Aaron's walls crumbling ever so slightly. It had been over a month since our first conversation and I was only just managing to see over the top of his barriers, and that bothered me - perhaps I didn't know as much about him as I thought I did.

I was very aware of his arm as it slid round my waist, temporarily muting the dialogue in my head as every receptor in my body seemed to flood that area. This was a new level of our relationship - but he wasn't looking in my direction. His attention was straight ahead instead, at the door in front of us.

Music seeped through the walls and empty beer bottles already littered the lawn.

We had arrived.