In the End

4- Reconnecting

Song: Eyelashes - Tori Kelly

I can't believe what I'm seeing, and for some reason, I can't move my eyes. Before I know it, Peter turns around and sees me. Awkwardness level 200/100. Who knew university would be such an awkward place? This new life thing isn't working the way I had hoped. He quickly picks up his boxers from his side, slips them on and starts writing something on his sketchbook.

Give me your number, we need to talk. He writes on his huge sketchbook with a king-size Sharpie, then holds up for me to see. Wow, a grown man using Taylor Swift's method. Real manly. I figure it's better to talk it out than avoiding eye-contact for the next four years in all, especially now that we already have mutual friends. I pick up my sketchbook and write down my number in a huge font, and raise it towards him and wait for him to call.

My phone rings, and I pick it up immediately, "Hi."

"Hey baby doll." It isn't Peter's voice, the voice is a lot deeper and drunker than his voice, "your dress is so sexy. I want to smack dat ass."

I look out the window, scanning the building, and then I see it. There is a man in the room beneath Peter's room holding a phone; as the man and I make eye contact, he hands form a peace sign in front of his mouth and he flicks his tongue at it. I hang up. Ew. There is a message from an unsaved number: It's Peter, call me when you get off the phone.

I dial the number, and he picks up before the first ring even ends, "hi."

"Hi." He replies in the most blank tone. He's either extremely empty or way too full of the things he wants to tell me. I wonder which. "So."

"Can I just explain my side of the story?" I ask.

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking."

"Sabrina was drunk, and I needed to find her a room, and the walls are really sound-proof, and I just didn't hear. I didn't realize I could see your room so clearly, and I-"

"I meant long term. Explain." He interrupts.

"Long term?"

"Soprese and all."

"I thought that was your explanation to make." I blurt out rather thoughtlessly, but I wasn't wrong to ask. It was definitely his explanation to make.

"Why is it my explanation?" Peter asks, I can see his face turning rather agitated, with us both sitting at the window-front desk.

"Well," I start, "before you left Westmond, you knew that I was heading for Soprese, it was a life goal. You knew it was, but you still came here. So, your explanation."

"Right, you did really want to come to Soprese. I guess I forgot." Oh Peter, I guess after 5 years, you're still a bad liar. "I was going for this place too, I just didn't tell anyone. I don't share my life."

The memories start flashing in the back of my mind, we had so much fun. And then he left me. Deciding not to question him about his lying skills, I focus on the agreeable part with him, "that's right, you don't share your life with anyone." I pause, "not even why you left so suddenly," I mutter.

"I heard that, Laura." Damn this premium technology.

I have nothing to feel guilty for, I calm myself, it's true he didn't tell you why he left. "So?"

"So what?"

"Why did you leave?" I confront him.

"I'll tell you soon." Wow, he really doesn't want this, huh? "But for now, you're gonna go on dates with me."

"Okay fine, you can tell me late- WAIT, WHAT? WHY WOULD I GO ON DATES WITH YOU?" My mind couldn't process all this after a horrible night. Why? What? How? Wha-

"'Cause you want something from me. You want the answer as to why I left. So this is my offer. If you go on enough dates with me, I'll tell you."

"I have a boyfriend."

"I don't care."

"I do."

"Okay, so you're not going to get an answer." He states boldly.

"Fine. It's not like I care." I care. But screw it. I hang up. Turning around, I see my bed. Now that's where I belong. I unzip my dress, let it fall to the floor, and realize my horrible mistake. Crap. I rush over and pull the curtains shut. Crap. Crap. Crap. My phone buzzes.

Peter: We're almost even.

Peter: For tonight ;)