Truth

1.Evelyn

I sat near the back in the philosophy room; it meant I could see most of the students in front of me. I liked being able to see them, so they could never see me. She always said I was shy like that, that I'd probably want to be invisible if I could. She had a point, she always did.

The day I first got her attention, I'd never clapped eyes on her before. It was the first day of the academic year, and she was in the desk two seats along from me: sat in denim shorts and a black jumper. She should have looked scruffy, but she looked breath taking. Her fair hair flowed down past her shoulders and down some of her back, it wasn't messy but at the same time it was. That was always the way with her.

I found myself staring in her direction, and her eyes glided onto mine. She gave me a brief smile then went back to doing whatever it was she had been in her book. I wanted to know what it was, because we weren't making notes that day - it was the first day. I wanted to know how she thought, what she wrote, if she drew, if she sang, how she spoke, her name. I wanted to know her background, where she was born, what kind of place she lived in, who she lived with. I wanted to know about her interests, her dislikes, what turned her on and what turned her off. I wanted to know what made her laugh, and what her laugh sounded like. I wanted to hear her dark secrets and her mistakes she'd made. I wanted to know what she was proud of, and if she really liked philosophy because I didn't. I only took it because my dad hadn't shut up about how much my brother had loved it, and now I had the inevitable years of hearing: "You're Steven's brother!"

She looked out of the window, head in her right hand. She kept tapping the desk with her left index finger, and I wondered why. Did she know she was doing it, was she bored, was it a nervous tick, was something bothering her or on her mind? Was she anxious for the lesson to end, did she have somewhere to be, someone to meet?

We were dismissed, faster than I thought we would be, and she was first out. I had no hope in hell of catching up with her as I hadn't even stood up yet, and my knee was still dodgy from last summer so I couldn't run to keep up. Even if I did, what would I say to someone like that? Consequently, I was last out and lightly limped my way to the door, praying there wasn't a dick here who would call me a cripple or something else along those lines, because God knows I'd had them all before.

My philosophy room was right at the end of the corridor, directly opposite the entrance to the block, so my route was straight-forward - literally and on paper. The doors were the push handle bar ones, so I pushed open into the outdoors.

"Hey, philosophy." A low, breathy voice called. I turned to my right to see her leaning lazily against the grey brick wall beside the doors. Her lips were full and slightly pouted; she had a lighted cigarette between the fingers on her left hand. I'd always thought smoking was an ugly habit, but on her it didn't seem to be, on her nothing could be.

"Evelyn." She said, before putting the cigarette into her mouth and inhaling a deep and long breath. I was confused, and seemed to forget my use of words.

"It's my name." She said; a quiet - almost silent - laugh gently escaped her lips, under her breath. "This is the part where you tell me yours."

"It's Rowan, sorry, I'm not great with people."

"I'm going for lunch, Rowan. Care to come with me?" She asked playfully. It occurred to me how songlike her voice was and how much I liked being near her. I nodded while watching her saunter away, whilst I followed, trying not to look like a lost and drooling puppy as I did so.

I felt wrong to look at her ass, but I did.

It wasn't the worst decision I ever made.

We walked into a dorm building and walked down the ground floor corridor to room 223. Evelyn got out her key and put it in the lock, undid it, and opened the door. I followed her in and placed my bag by the wall as she did.