The Lonely (2 page)

"Hi."
I say weakly.

His
voice is quiet but he still manages to be shitty, as always. "Buy whatever
you want."

"I'm
buying what I need." I'm getting defensive.

He
sighs, "Either buy the nice stuff or I will have the entire store
delivered to the dorms. Better yet, I will order it all from some store no one
but Paris Hilton can afford. You will be the most popular girl in dorms with
your fancy espresso maker and fabulous couches." He sounds weird being so
deadpan and saying fabulous.

"Whatever."
My face is glowing red.
 
I shudder
imaging the other students in my room.

"I've
asked that you not say that word. It's annoying." I hear the flipping of
pages or a book in the background. He's working and I'm his annoyance.

"We
done?" I ask saucily but he's already gone. I look at her and frown,
"You shouldn’t do that. He doesn’t even want you to have my cell number,
let alone touching it."

She
sticks her tongue out and grabs the extra fluffy blankets, "At least
you're getting your shit. Mine isn’t arriving for like days."

I
look at down at my phone and send a quick text message.

'Sorry
to bug you again but, can I get her stuff? Her parents sent it, but it's not
here and she won't have much anyway. They can't afford to send huge amounts of
crap.'

'Yes.
Stop asking ridiculous questions.'

'Thank
you.'
I hate being nice to him when
he's being a dick.

'You
are welcome. Please remind Miss Monkton that I would like her to go easy on Stu
;-)'

'Ok…'
I feel weird about the text, his winky
face is strange for me. He has never been cheeky to me before. My face is
blushing.

'Also
remind her my car is off limits for any extra curricular activities she has
planned with him!!'
 
He never uses exclamation marks. For him it's like
jazz hands, extra flashy. He really means it.

I
scowl at my phone and text back,
'No. Ewwww. No. Leave me out of it.'

She
nudges me, "What's he saying. You're all flushed."

I
frown at her, "I don’t even want to know how he knows about the date, but
he says go easy on Stuart and no nasty stuff in his car."

She
smiles deviously, "No promises."

My
heart stops, "I have to ride in the car. You know you can't do that in
there right?" My voice has the slightest hint of panic in it.

Her
smiles fades, "I know. I wouldn’t. It was a joke."

I
reach into my bag and fish around. "It's not here. It's not here." I
see it in the back of mind. I've left it on the desk in the room. I squirted
some on my hands and placed the bottle down. My heart starts to race.

"It's
okay, they sell it here." She tries to calm me down.

I'm
almost shaking, "I don’t have it."

"They
have it here. They have it in the soap section." She grabs my hand and
pulls me, while pushing the cart. She drags me to the aisle. She cracks open a
bottle and squirts it on me. My breath regulates as the cold of it soaks my
skin and the alcohol fills my nostrils.

She
smiles and dumps some on her hands too. She puts the opened container in the
cart, "See. Crisis averted."

I
swallow and feel the heat on my cheeks, "I can't do this. I can't do
school. I can't do cafeterias and bars and pubs and desks. Oh god, desks. I
forgot about desks."

She
rolls her eyes and grabs my shirt, leaving indents in the cotton. "Come
the frig on nutbag."

I
laugh nervously.

She
looks back and smiles.

"You
and Stuart were having eye sex in the car." I mutter.

She
laughs, "No, we weren’t. He was just looking. He likes the
merchandise." She puts up the last picture we bought, that I called
frivolous, and stands back to appreciate the work we've done. It feels homey. I
knew it would. She's good at this.

"I
like it."

She
smiles at me, "You okay with this all?"

I
nod and look around, "The clutter is a lot for me but it feels like a room
should. It looks lived in. Not like I'm hoarding and guarding everything like a
dragon. It's weird to have everything out where we can see it and use it. But I
like it."

She
crosses her arms and gives me a worried look.

I
shake it off, "I'm going to the gym to run. You coming?"

She
grins, "No. Stuart is coming over to go for a walk. I'm sure I'll get
plenty of exercise."
I slump, "Oh my god. You're dating his driver. I thought it was 'I'm not
Japanese' food tomorrow. How is there a walk planned already today?"

She
flashes her phone at me, "Text." Her voice is high pitched.

I
make a pouty face and walk out the door, "I hate you."

"YOU
LOVE ME YOU LITTLE SLUT!" She shouts at me as I close the door. The guy
standing in the hall across from our door looks at me and grins. I furrow my
brow, which only makes him grin harder. I scurry away quickly.

The
industrial feel of the building is wearing off. I see color and life everywhere
now. Only one day of mass amounts of teenagers moving in and it's starting to
come alive. Each door has decorations and personalized signs or covers. The
handles have fun sayings hung from them like hotels. A white towel is on the
floor, making the shiny industrial flooring seem lived in. I plug my headphones
into my phone and walk down the stairs and out into the muggy air. Boston late
August is hateful. It's the only way to say it. Hateful. I heard one of the
Southies say it and I agree. The way they say it is cooler though. Haytful.
It's awesome.

The
recreation hall is right next to our dorm, only a short jog and I'm there. I enter
feeling overwhelmed. I push it away and casually stroll over to the wipes and
grab a handful. I take huge breaths and focus my mind as I wipe down the
treadmill I choose. I use the wipe to wash the console on the huge machine and
begin my stretches. I start the music and press the on button.

This
is my thing.

I
run.

I
do it for fitness, but I do it for something else. I do it so I know I can. If
anything goes wrong, I can run. It's a sick and twisted way to be, but I don’t
know any other way. I start light at a seven. I jog it for my five minute warm
up. I put it up to an eight. I notice blue and red in my peripheral. I glance
over, not losing my focus and see a huge set of shoulders. The guy next to me
is jogging too. I put it up to a nine and refocus my mind. My legs start to
feel the press. They love the stretch and the pressure of the slight sprint.

My
song changes and I put it up to a ten. It's the shortest of my intervals. Only
three-minutes at a ten. Then back to a nine for five. Then back to an eight for
the rest of the run.

The
ten is challenging me. I imagine the scene though.

I'm
running in a dark alley.

They
almost have me.

Their
shoes make loud slaps against the cement.

The
slaps get louder with every step they get closer.

My
legs start to burn but I push it harder.

I
snap out of it and look at the time, only to realize I've been doing ten for
four-minutes. I drop it back to a nine. It feels easy for the first minute. But
my legs are so taxed that the last minutes of running at a nine are brutal. I
hit the slowdown button, almost panicking, and lower it to an eight. My legs
relax, they like running at an eight. I notice something and glance at the guy
to the right of me. He's talking to me. I pull out my ear bud.

"What?"
I say breathlessly.

"Are
those Beats?" He's breathless like me.

I
frown, "My time?"

He
looks confused, "What?"

I
laugh, "You mean like, did I beat my time?" My heart is beating in my
throat.

He
laughs too, slowing his treadmill down. He points to my ear-buds, "The
buds-are they Beats? Dr. Dre?"

I
pull one of them from my ear and look at it. "I think so."

"They're
sick, hey? I have the full ear ones. So awesome."

I
slow my treadmill down more. He's messing with my run. He's hot, so I let him.
I grin, "You run fast."

He
laughs, "Not as fast as you. If my legs were short like yours, I would be
running half your speed."

I
open my mouth, offended, "Hey. My legs aren’t short."

He
laughs, "I didn’t mean like your legs are short. I mean like. Oh fuck
it." He says breathlessly and presses the cardiac arrest button to stop
the treadmill, "I mean like you're shorter than me. Like we run the same
pace but my step is longer. So it's easier."

I
laugh and slow mine to a three so I can stroll next to him, "I know what
you meant. I just couldn’t let you get away with that."

He
wipes the sweat off his red face and wipes it on his pants. "Thanks.
Sebastian Hollinger." He holds the sweaty hand out. My nose wrinkles when
I look at it.

He
laughs and puts his hand away.

I
bite my lip, "Sorry. I just have a thing with like …"

"Some
asshole rubbing sweat all over his hands and then touching you with them. Yeah,
everyone does. Sorry about that."

I
swallow, "Emalyn Spicer."

He
smiles the most charming smile I've ever seen. My heart almost stops.
Dark-sweaty hair, round-sweaty shoulders, thick-sweaty biceps, straight teeth,
an amazing smile and brown-hazel eyes. They're almost green. I almost sigh, but
the sweat bothers me enough to keep me grounded. "Nice to meet you."
I say softly.

He
smiles. A lot. I like that. His smile broadens when he talks, "You too.
Emalyn. I've never heard that name before? Where's it come from?"

I
hate the questions about my name. It always comes up. I shake my head and push
the heart attack button too, "No clue." The treadmill comes to an
instant stop.

He
shrugs his huge shoulders, "Cool."

I
want him to talk to me again but I haven’t been around a ton of boys my age.
I'm not great at flirting and playing around. I can count the boys I've flirted
with.

"You
from here?" I ask.

He
shakes his head, "No. I'm from Northern Maine. You?"

I
shake my head, "No. Long ways away." I don’t want to say it but I do.
"I'm from New Mexico." I wait for it. I know it'll start questions,
it always does. Questions I don’t like answering.

He
frowns, "Wow, you're really pale and blonde?"

I
laugh, "And blue eyes and no accent. I'm not Mexican. I don’t think even
half the population is Mexican or Hispanic. It's just a regular state. You know
regular percentages of regular people. You know, regular being a little bit of
everyone."

He
closes his eyes and shakes his head, "Yikes. I didn’t mean to sound like
I'm a Klan member. Jeeze. I meant like you're not very tanned. I always
imagined New Mexico was warm and shit."

I
laugh and smile, "Wow. You are actually worse at this than I am. That's
saying a lot. This bit of tan is about all I get. I've never tanned well."

His
red face loosens up a bit, "This is horrid. I'm way cooler than this, I
swear. Can we just start over?"

I
wave, "Hi, I'm Emalyn. White, extra white actually, and non-Mexican from
New Mexico. How are you?"

He
laughs, "You're funny. Funny and fast." He looks like he's struggling
with something, "Wanna just have dinner with me? I promise it will be less
entertaining than this." He points around us, "It's the workout, it's
messing with me. I think I'm light-headed actually." His eyes twinkle,
making me laugh.

My
face is split into a huge grin, "I'd love to." I would? My racing
heart is saying otherwise. But I remind myself everything is about the New
Leaf. Freedom, adventure, taking risks, all are the New Leaf that I so badly
need.

"What
are you doing in an hour?"

I
raise an eyebrow, "Nothing." Why am I still answering questions?

"Wanna
meet at Chicken Lou's? One hour?"

I
want to think about it. I want to say no. I want to be rational, but I don’t. I
smile and hop off the treadmill and grab a wipe, "Yeah."

"Great."

I
wipe down the machine and wave, "See you in a bit."

He
smiles the killer smile and makes my racing, panicking, and stressed out heart,
stop.

Sebastian,
Seb? No. Bastian? Maybe. Maybe just Sebastian. My mind races and fills with
terrors. Bad things. Fears and possibilities. By the time I get to the room,
I've talked myself out of it.
Michelle is there getting all curled and dolled and pretty. She smiles until
she sees the look on my face, "What happened?"