Beneath

6 DINNER'S A MESS

N O A H

I like this girl.

Now I can't focus.

The lecture hall's hum fades. The history of the 20th century stretches out on the chalkboard in a timeline I can almost touch, but I'm sketching an underdog's silhouette against the steps of Philadelphia's Museum of Art. 

Rocky.

That party was days ago, now. I don't know how many.

With Camila, I felt everything. Her heart, her laugh, her body. The softness of her skin under my mouth. The bow of the softest-looking lips I've ever seen. How easy it was to talk to her: death, funerals, movies, history, business. I've said more to her in two conversations than I have to people I've known for years.

And she left soaked in beer.

Akira. Her jealousy is the malicious kind. The ugliest. I never liked her.

Class ends, and the shuffle of students packing up fills the silence. I pull my hood further over my head and wait for the room to clear before moving, my limbs heavy. Then I leave too, slinging the bag over my shoulder.

A voice pulls me from my musings. Lily from the seminar class. She never takes a hint.

"We haven't really talked, Noah." She twists her hair with a finger. "I enjoyed your take on the Cold War dynamics last week. Maybe we could—"

"Thank you, Lily, but I'm not available."

......

I lose track of the days.

Thursday marks mid-October. Fox packs up and leaves this evening, meeting Cam for coffee at Hallowed Grounds for Maddie Tutoring or whatever it is they do. He returns smiling, that despondency gone. Guess she talked sense into him.

On Friday, I head to my last class, human development, dragging my feet across campus. The sharp breeze threatens to take my hood off.

I slip into the glass building, then the second cavernous classroom. Fox and Jed are already up in the back row. I hike up my bag and climb the steps until I'm level with them.

Jed has transcended earthly concerns, his eyes closed, legs crossed in a meditative pose on his chair. He's barefoot.

"Dude, put your sandals back on," Fox says, more out of habit than hope. Jed hums in response, a long vibration that fills the space around him.

I drop into the seat next to Fox. As Dr. Lang starts speaking, I don't bother with notes.

The guys were right. I smiled for Camila, something I can barely do for my family. It felt like unveiling a part of me that's been hidden in cobwebs. The way I crave it again is a selfishness born from longing, and an ancient feeling inside me.

The clock's procession toward 5:00 is a countdown. Cam's supposed to come over to the apartment tonight. I need to apologize. I forced too much. I took too much. 

I've had a few girlfriends. Some told me I was too nice. Some used me as a rebound. All of them fucked me eagerly, but I was on autopilot; there was no real connection. It wasn't wrong or right, it was just sex.

After class, when we reach our apartment, the familiarity of the space does nothing to ease the tension.

At 5:01 PM, Fox hunches over the kitchen island, chin in his hand, staring a thousand miles away. Even Jed, also at the island, looks disinterestedly at his pile of purple crystals.