Weekend Friend

18.

THE QUIET OCCUPYING the third floor of the Communications Building comforts me the same way a mug of herbal tea does in the evening. My footsteps on the polished concrete floors sound far louder than they would be if I wasn't the only person walking down the hallway. But the same currently goes for the thundering rhythm of my heart inside my chest, and that's not comforting.

I'd left my conversation with Audrey feeling self-assured and steady. I even had a pep in my step. But somewhere between dropping Bear off at my apartment and returning to campus for my tutoring sessions, a jittery energy had started to pulse through my system. Maybe it has something to do with the large oat latte I managed to chug in the twenty minutes I spent at the apartment doing my usual tidying and corgi co-parenting duties. Or maybe it has to do with seeing Tatum Wolff and going on what I've decided to classify as a date after we finish our tutoring obligations.

"Just keep it cool," I whisper to myself as I walk into the Centre for Speech & Debate. It's composed of a tiny waiting room and two offices, each equipped with recording equipment, a desktop computer, and an arched window overlooking the quad.

The guy sitting in the office on the left lifts his pink buzz cut upon my arrival, and exhales an exceedingly dramatic breath. "You're early, bro," Weston says, and closes his laptop - but not before I catch a glimpse of Rory Glimore.

"You look like you've been busy," I quip, mildly relieved that Tatum isn't here yet. "What season is that?"

"Three. Rory is in love with Jess." Weston yawns as he stretches his arms above his head. "But what did you expect? It's the third week of the quarter. No one gives a flying fuck yet."

I notice that the other office is empty, and tilt my head in its direction. "Where's your buddy?"

"Cynthia didn't show, and neither did the three bookings she had." Wylan gives a knowing look and I snort in response.

It's an open secret that when you can't be bothered to show up for tutoring, you have your friends book your appointments. I did it once last quarter, right after my breakup. Audrey and Sydney really saved my sanity that day.

I purse my lips together to repress a smirk. "Classic."

"I saw that you're with," Weston pauses to cup his hands around his mouth and howls. "So, you're in for an easy quarter."

I roll my eyes, but curiosity flares inside me.
"How so?"

The three of us had been in the same tutoring training course during the Spring Quarter of our first year. It was the quarter after we'd taken COM 220 Political Communication & Debate, and Mercer had formally invited us to join the Centre after we'd gotten our final marks. We'd all excelled, apparently enough to elevate us to tutor status.

Weston chuckles. "Let's just say people aren't here to simply practise their speeches."

My brow furrows as confusion washes over me. "I'm not sure I..."

Weston gives me an amused look, and I suddenly feel like I've been smacked with a tennis racket. "Oh. Oh, really?"

He nods. "Big time."

"That's so... interesting." The adjective awkwardly rolls off my tongue, but Weston doesn't seem to pick up on how the idea of people coming to the Centre to flirt with Tatum is tampering with my brain chemistry. He's started packing up his bag, sliding his laptop into a fancy leather case that accompanies his fancy leather messenger bag. Aside from Audrey, he's the most style savvy person I know.

"Yeah, we ought to thank him and his European charm."

Before I can conjure up a response, the sound of quick footsteps prompts me to spin around.

It's Tatum and he looks...stressed. I've never seen him stressed before. It's disorienting, much like seeing an actor from a cheerful Disney Channel series star in a horror film.

"Sorry," he heaves out the word, his cheeks flushed. "Sorry, for being late. Practice went 30 minutes over, and then my locker got jammed, and then I walked here as fast as I could without sweating, which was really hard because it's actually really nice out today." He takes a deep breath, his eyes swiftly falling from my face before returning a beat later. "How are you?"

"Good, yeah, I'm good," I reply, determined to live up to my keep it cool" mantra. "Though I think I'm going to have to report your tardiness to Professor Mercer. He needs to know that student athletes can't be trusted for this gig."

Tatum chuckles and briefly pops into the other office to drop his backpack. "But you know how important this place is to me and my CV. Tell me what I need to do to change your mind. Name your price, Jensen."

"Well I'd-"

Weston clears his throat, having appeared beside me as he shrugs on his leather jacket. There are various patches stitched into it, but all they appear to adhere to a cool toned colour scheme. "Hey, man, when's the next Home game?"

Tatum jolts, almost as if he has to do a double-take. "Weston, hey. Sorry, I didn't see you back there. It's this Friday against Utah."

"No worries. I see how it is." Weston looks between us, and shakes his head with a subtle yet very devious smile. "But cool, I'll be there. Any chance to see Levi Elliot in action."

I hum in agreement, but tense when Tatum's eyes widen in my direction. He almost looks offended, and it's borderline satisfying. I didn't know I had this power.

As he heads out the door, Weston gives me a look that screams you're welcome, and I can't help but wonder if our dynamic emits a distinct vibe that people pick up on. And if it does, I wonder what kind of vibe it is, and if my feelings for Tatum are not as one-sided as I used to think.

"Have a good one," Tatum calls out before turning to face me as I lean against the door frame to what's now my office. "So I've got a full schedule today, didn't expect that."

I scoff, thinking back to my enlightening conversation with Weston. "Did you not?"

"Well, it's only week three. The impromptu speech assessment doesn't start until the end of next week, so I guess I figured it would be a light day."

I use every muscle in my face not to gawk at him. It seems like he has no idea that his full schedule isn't simply because he's good at what he does. It's a little spicier than that.

"Funny how that works because I only have one and it's in the second block," I manage to say with a neutral expression.

"Why is it that you always seem to get lucky?" Tatum shakes his head at me, a faint smirk on his lips.

"That's one word for it," I say, pushing myself off the door frame to watch Tatum retreat into his office to start unloading his backpack. It's the same Claremont soccer one that Sydney has, except it has an 8 stitched onto it. "Well, I'll let you attend to your full schedule then."

"Thanks, very polite of you." Tatum drops into his office chair, runs a hand through his damp hair. Why is it that it always looks damp? Does he take a lot of showers?

And why do I care?

"Yep. That's me. Very polite." I throw him a friendly little wave and finally take my place in the office beside his.

It's not long before Tatum's first appointment arrives, during which I keep my door open just so I have a better chance of hearing what's going on behind his closed door while I attempt to focus on my reading for International Law. I can make out the muffled sound of his voice, and I allow myself to start looking forward to the fact that it'll be me and Tatum's European charm in just two short hours.

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European charm pending!!! Also sorry not sorry to drag out the date another chapter hehe

I hope to have another chapter out during November, now that I'm getting back into a good (writing) routine after moving! Please don't hestitate to drop a vote or comment x