A Thousand Storms

15 believe

Friday afternoon had come and I had gone through my first shift at Aletta without Rhia.

It went torturously slowly without her snarky side comments and short lines of motivations too often including the word "beotch."

College, on the other hand, had gone relatively quickly, mainly due to the free period we had. We found ourselves in one of the main libraries of the school.

High rising and lit up with circular chandeliers, cream-coloured pillars carved the edges of the building. Shelves filled to the brim with invaluable first editions lined the sides of the the tawn walls. It was the most beautiful library I'd ever seen. It felt unreal.

"Did you notice how similar Prof Lawrence and Prof Harvey look?" Cleo scoffed, indignant, "And they say all Asians look alike. You almost can't differentiate between the two."

"I mean you could differentiate anything if you used dy by dx." I cracked a dorky smile.

Cleo stared at me for a while, holding back a smile. "You are the epitome of a math nerd, you know that?" she mused.

"Math is cool," I replied.

"Most people seem to think otherwise."

We spent the rest of the period studying and completely the week's assignments. Luckily, there was not as much homework for me to do this weekend, and a little revision would suffice.

I reached the apartment with an unusual burst of energy. Mason had given me a second access card for his room, which I swiped, then pushed open the door.

I shuffled in, setting my bag down on the counter. He was sitting at the table, a sketch pad in front of him.

"I took a look at those records," I said, by way of greeting, "Horrendous."

I made no effort to talk about what had happened last night. His nightmare. If he wanted to talk about it, he would. I wasn't going to be that person.

He lifted his eyes to me as I chugged down a glass of his mango juice.

"Logan gave them to you?" he asked.

"Sort of," I said, "Where were you?"

"Buying groceries," he replied, "including that juice you're currently drinking."

I set down the glass so that it purposely chinked on the smooth granite surface. "For however long I'm here, I'm paying half of the expenses."

A grin quirked on Mason's lips. "If I were to say no—"

"I wouldn't listen anyway," I said, "I've got a computer application for Charley's records. It'll be easier for the guys there to use. So now that I'll be of no use in that department, I've got to contribute somewhere else."

He sighed deeply, closing his sketchpad. "If it helps you sleep at night."

I nodded, heading back to the door. I wanted to see that sketchpad. I doubted he'd show it to me, though. It seemed personal.

"Where are you going?" he called.

"Shopping," I threw behind my back. Then, highly aware that he'd most likely refuse, I asked, "Wanna come?"

There was a long pause before he said, "Yeah. Yeah I'll come."

Shit.

I tried not to grimace when he got off the bar stool and edged toward me in black jeans, a white shirt and a light denim jacket rolled up to his forearms.

"Nice shirt," he muttered, staring down at my favorite shirt, with the focal point of an iridescent alien saying I DON'T BELIEVE IN HUMANS.

"I know, right?" I quipped.