Crimson Academy

EIGHT

Victoria made a gargantuan pile of grilled cheese, and ladled us out bowls of soup. It was thick and creamy, with spinach, portabella mushrooms, and crumbled up breakfast sausage. With it, she made us both cups of black tea, which she added a splash of vanilla extract, and vodka, plus a generous spoonful of sugar.

We took all of our stuff into the living area, and made a sort of picnic on the fluffy green area rug between her tv, and the couch.

She put in her DVD before she settled in about five inches away from me. We shared a cheetah print comforter and began watching the movie.

Grapes of Wrath was a black and white movie set back in the Dust Bowl era. It was about this guy named Thomas Joad who had in previous years gotten into a bar fight, and accidentally killed a man, and does some jail time. He reconnects with his family where they all go west to California to get jobs picking peaches and grapes, but it falls through with all the struggles the family suffer. In the end, Thomas manages to kill another guy and has to split from his family to avoid getting caught.

I know. Sounds boring but it was a great movie. I enjoyed it.

I looked over at Vic, and she had a single, dramatic tear streaming down her face.

I turned in her direction and swiped it away with my thumb.

"Thanks. Sorry." She said and shook her head.

After that she picked our plates and cups and took to the kitchen.

While she was gone, I really took in the space around me.

It was of identical structure to my dorm, but was ten times better looking.

Her walls were a lavender color that gave the room a cozy and romantic feel, along with the low light her lamps gave off, and the sweet kaleidoscope scent that her candles burned into the air. She had three potted plants in an empty corner in the room. There were Forget Me Nots, Narcissus flowers, and one I didn't know the name of, but the were in clusters, and were a light shade of purple.The walls displayed head shots and movie posters from classic actors such as, James Stewart, Steve McQueen, Henry Fonda, Marlon Brando, and many others. There were a few actresses as well, but I could not name any of them. I scanned her DVD rack which mostly held Turner Classics, or Disney movies, with a few newer films such as Ready Player One speckled in.For a dorm, it felt very homey to me, and I liked that. Now was when I noticed a warm feeling about me. I felt safe, I felt comforted, and suddenly I realized that I really liked Vic. Maybe I even loved her then...

Just then she came back into the room after shutting the light in the kitchen off.

"What took you so long?" I asked, my cheeks rushing warm. 

"I did up the dishes and put stuff away."

I felt guilty again.

"You should have said something. I would have helped or at least kept you company." I said.

She smiled and shook her head.

"It's ok, Aaron." She said brushing some hair off of my forehead, as if I hadn't been flustered enough already. 

"If you don't stop cooking like that, I'm gonna have to make you my baby momma." I teased her, hoping to take the edge of my own emotions off. 

She laughed. "Jesus, just do it. If I have a baby, then at least  I'll have someone to talk to."

I wasn't at all prepared for that answer, so I again, was a blushing mess, my own joke back firing on me, my cheeks still brilliantly on fire as if I had scarlet fever, when I really, I've just got Little-Boy syndrome. 

"Oh..."

She laughed again. "Chill. It was just a joke. Gosh."

I laughed too. "Ok. Ok."

She stared at me for a minute with her engulfing brown eyes. 

"So I see that you like old movies." I said and gestured to her collection.

She glanced at it and smiled. "Yup. I do. And you can also tell by all of my people on the wall."

I nodded, then looked down at the hoodie I was wearing, and back at Vic.

"I meant to ask you earlier, but where did you get this hoodie?" I asked.

She smiled. "Well, I'm not originally from Oklahoma. I was born in a little rinky dink town called Fort Scott, Kansas. I lived there until I was thirteen, then went to live with my uncle."

I nodded. "Oh."

"Yeah. And I played in the band there, and when I was in sixth grade, I got this, and that's why it's so huge."

I chuckled. "So you are saying that you were chubby."

"Chubby is too kind. I was fat. I stood 4'9 and weighed 160 pounds. I was like a ball."

I laughed. "Oh well. You're past that now."

She smiled. "Yup. It was rough then, and it stayed that way till I started living with my uncle, and I'm getting over my emotional and mental damage, so it's going good."

She started to laugh, and I went along with it, thinking she was over exaggerating stuff, but later I would find out that she wasn't.

When she was done, she turned to me. "So... not to be cheeky or catty with you, but I know you didn't come here on your own free will, so what happened?"

"Right," I said. "Well I was working on my story for eighth hour and ran into some writers block, so I thought a walk in nature would like, jump start the creative juices again, so that's what I did, went for a walk. I was out for a while, and it started to get cold, then it started to rain. I headed back for my dorm shivering and drenched, to discover I'd locked myself out. I didn't know what else to do, so I came here."

She nodded. "I figured as much."

I nodded. "But I hated to do it because you know, what reason did you have to help me after I was so terrible to you?"

She shrugged. "Don't feel guilty. Like I said, I thought it was my fault that you weren't talking to me."

I shook my head. "Never. You're the sweetest person, you don't deserve that." I blushed yet again at my own awkward ass, because how much weirder could I literally fucking get?

She fidgeted with our blanket, and pulled it up to her shoulders, before switching the subject, for which I was grateful. 

"How'd you get here? Scholarship or are you paying to be here?" She asked.

"Scholarship believe it or not." I said and chuckled.

She blinked at me. "For something you wrote?"

I nodded.

She scooted closer to me, and settled her legs over mine to form a plus sign.

"It must have been pretty good. Tell me about it."