Pieces of Me

Chapter Five

Logan

I'm sitting here pretending to be engrossed in my phone when really I'm listening intently to Andrew's conversation with the gorgeous girl sitting across from us.
I drag my finger pointlessly across the locked home screen on my phone, just so it looks like I'm texting.

Yeah, I'm a creep.

I'm never normally up this early, but today I couldn't sleep. I was sick of being in my head, so when Andrew said he was leaving for uni I decided it wouldn't hurt to follow him - check out the campus like he's been harassing me to do for weeks.
He thinks it's "a shame" I'm not enrolled. He sounds like my old high school teachers "He's a smart boy, if he just applied himself, if he just stayed away from the wrong students" pfft.

I don't know why I haven't told Andrew yet that I've already applied, and been accepted. I start next week but I'm still unsure whether I'll even go. So while Andrew was listing the seemingly endless reasons why I should apply mid-year, I spotted a coffee shop and made my way towards it. Andrew's commentary hadn't faltered in the slightest as he reminded me I could get coffee here every day if I "just quit being such a stubborn ass".

I noticed her the moment we walked through the door, just as Andrew did.
Dressed in an oversized Stussy shirt, and tight jeans she looked... gorgeous.
As she'd spotted Andrew, her whole face had lite up, and then she'd thrown her arms around his neck.
Watching as they embraced, my body prickled.
When finally they parted, I watched as she took her phone from her back pocket and paused the song she was listening to. I titled my head slightly to read the screen. Hilltop Hoods.

Hmm not a terrible choice.
I like a girl with good taste in music.
When it came to my turn to order, I asked for mine in a mug too, despite the fact I didn't plan on sticking around these two long enough to finish it.

As I listened to them talk, it finally dawned on me how I know her. I can't believe I didn't realise sooner. She's not completely unrecognisable to the girl she used to be, she's definitely more confident in her skin now. Long gone is that awkward teen phase. Also, she doesn't have bangs anymore – thank God for that. Same could be said for my mohawk though. Jesus, what a shit year that was. That was the year I was "asked politely" to leave - by several schools.
This was not a good look for my holier-than-thou Christian father. He didn't take it well either. I've got the scars to prove it.

Her and Andrew continue to chat in front of me, clearly comfortable around each other.
There is still something about this girl I can't put my finger on. My eyes find the handbag beside her leg. I notice several novels, not textbooks, filling it to the brim. It's a mixture of old and new; Bronte. Fitzgerald as well as Elizabeth Gilbert, Jane Harper, and much to my amusement, Joel Creasey.
How many books does this girl have on the go at once? I don't think I've even seen Bridget read a food label let alone a novel.

Shit, I need to stop comparing.

Bridget would probably laugh and agree with me if I told her that anyway. I know exactly what Bridget and I have together, it does no one any favours thinking things like that. I'd by lying if I said I wasn't still frustrated about last night when Bridget chewed my ass out for not coming over for dinner. I'd seen her only an hour prior, and she hadn't mentioned it. Then she'd called me furious for not reading her mind. I just can't seem to get it right with her. Or ever.

"I'm loving my Feature Writing class," the brunette girl before me gushes.

Why can't I remember her name?

Beside me Andrew nods enthusiastically, drinking in her words. I fight the urge to kick him in the shin.

"What's your major?" she asks, leaning forward like she's actually interested.

"Landscape Architecture," Andrew replies grinning, "of course I've only just started the intro courses, but I'm liking it already."

I hate the way I feel like the moron at the table. Just because I don't go to university, doesn't mean I am an idiot. Of course priss over here would probably think differently.

"What are you interested in?"

It takes me a beat to realise she's talking to me.

"I don't go to university," I reply, my voice harsh.

I don't bother telling her I'm enrolled, she can think what she likes.

"I didn't ask that," she says, unfazed by my rude reply.

I'm momentarily stunned at her directness.

"Come back to ours, I want to show you the place," Andrew butts in, and she removes her eyes from mine.

Suddenly I'm confused - and  pissed.
Pissed that he doesn't even bother to ask me. But he drove, so I have no choice but to tag along. 

The girl nods eagerly. Her brunette hair capturing the sunlight.

We begin to walk towards Andrew's car, me several metres behind. The girl stops as we reach the car, "you can sit in the front."
Her smile is encouraging but shy but her eyes keep mine.
I nearly say yes, but I stop myself - trying not to be a dick.

"Nah, it's fine."

She nods and brushes past me towards the passenger door. My skin immediately heats up at the small, yet somehow intrusive, contact.

It's Andrew who fills the silence as we speed down the back streets. He pretends he's all straight-A-college guy, but I know better. I know he did a beer bong for breakfast 3 days ago. I have to stop myself from reminding him this.

My finger taps continuously on my thigh as the college houses pass us by. She sits in front of me and I take in her profile from the corner of my eye.
We've hardly even spoken 5 words to each other yet I feel.. I don't even know. I feel something.

I find myself wishing she'd ask me another question.

She looks at me once in the revision mirror, like she wants to say something. I don't know if it's because my tapping is annoying her, or that she wants to say something else.

When we arrive home, Andrew opens the door like a martyr. I roll my eyes so hard the strain hurts.
As she walks into our place, she takes in the surroundings without commenting. I throw myself onto the couch, following her eyes as she scans the room.  Considering it's only two guys here, it's in a pretty decent state. Like, it's clean, but a little messy with beer bottles littering the table. Nothing matches, but what does she expect. We don't give a shit.

I wait for the same kind of disgusted comment, Bridget made when she walked through the door last week. These girls are of similar status after all.

"You call yourself uni guys? Where is your naked ladies calendar and nonsensical collection of almost empty alcohol bottles?" she asks, swinging back around to us with sparkling eyes.

"Oh they're in my bedroom, with my laptop which is permanently set to Tinder," Andrew replies, jerking his thumb towards his room.
She smiles amused, and folds her arms across her chest, accidently amplifying her cleavage.
I conclude that this whole thing is simply annoying, and when I stand abruptly both sets of eyes fall to me. I don't bother to give an explanation before I walk out of the lounge room.