The next day followed the same routine as the week before. Garrett was waiting in the lecture hall, skinny mocha and all. I smiled inwardly and sat next to him.
“Good morning, Mister Adams.” I toasted him with my cup.
“Top o’ the mornin’ to ya, Miss Peters,” he replied in the worst Irish accent ever. I grinned.
“Don’t ever attempt that again, and certainly never in the presence of someone from Ireland. You’re liable to get a very painful reply!” He laughed and we settled down for the lecture.
We did some studying together, had lunch together and had the last lecture of the day together. Like the week before, he insisted on walking me back to my room.
“I need to go via the porters’ lodge,” I said as we approached the edge of campus. “I’ve had a text to say there’s a parcel for me.” I’d been intrigued about the parcel since I received the text a few hours earlier. As both Mum and Cass had dispatched me back to uni with gifts, I didn’t think it was anything from them and I hadn’t ordered anything online.
“I’ll leave you here, then, if that’s all right.” Garrett touched my arm and then strode off, back in the direction we had walked. Wondering why he wasn’t up to his usual gentlemanly behaviour and insisting on walking me home, I knocked the porter’s door.
After showing him my student ID, I was handed a large box, with no clue as to its origin beyond the courier’s address. Brighton. I struggled with it on the short walk back to my room, eager to drop it as soon as I got through the door. Within seconds of taking off my coat, I placed the box on my bed, almost too nervous to open it. Slowly removing the courier’s plastic wrapping, I soon recognised the name embossed in the white card of the box. The shop we had visited yesterday. It wasn’t, was it?
It was.
Folded in layers of soft, white tissue paper was the dress. The pink Issy dress I had admired. Clearly, I have self-control issues: I had my clothes off and that dress on faster than you could say ‘gold digger’.
It fit perfectly, gently hugging my arms and chest before falling in soft folds to just above my knee. I put on one of the few pairs of heels I owned, a silver pair bought for a posh wedding, and pranced and twirled around my room. Seriously, I gave Cinderella a run for her money with my over-excitement, but my strike of midnight was the flash on my phone as I took a selfie, trying to get the whole dress in. Who would I send it to? Worse still, what would they think of me for accepting this gift from someone I had known for only a matter of days?
Removing it carefully to ensure I didn’t snag the lace, I took it off and placed it back in the box. Clad in my pyjamas, I sat cross-legged on my bed, the box taunting me from my desk, and deliberated how to tell Garrett I couldn’t accept it. The ping of a text broke the brain-ache.
Yankee: Did you get your delivery okay?
Me: Yes…
Me: Can I ring you?
Yankee: Any time ?
Me: Now?
Yankee: Give me 5?
Me: okay
Even I knew it would be rude to refuse the gift by text. After five minutes of mentally rehearsing what I was going to say, I rang Garrett’s number. No answer. Weird. I tried again. Just as he picked up, the house door buzzer rang.
“Hi,” I started, forgetting every single line I had practised.
“Hi.” The door buzzer was still ringing.
“Um, let me get the door. I can’t think with that thing going off. I’ll be back in a minute,” I said, dropping my phone on my bed and hurrying out to the corridor intercom.
“Yes?” I said, not caring how unfriendly I sounded.
“Neve, it’s me. Garrett.”
“What? Why? You were on the phone.”
“I know. Can we carry on this conversation in person? Buzz me in?” Confused, I did as he asked but the intercom buzzed again.
“Yes?” The buzzer cackled with the static of my annoyance.
“It’s me. What room are you?” I laughed and told him my number. After quickly straightening my bed, I stood at my door, strangely nervous.
“Hi, come on in,” I greeted Garrett when he turned onto the corridor. When he followed me in there was a real awkwardness. One, I hadn’t had anyone visit me in my room other than Jake. Two, I didn’t want to end up sat on the bed with Garrett, not with how messed-up my head was at that moment. Pulling the chair out from under the desk, I angled it toward the bed. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” He sat down and then tapped the gift box. “So, you got the dress then?” Even he seemed awkward.
“Yes, thank you.” I paused before blurting out, “But I can’t accept it. I know how much the dresses cost in that shop. There’s no way I can take it. It’s too much.”
“I’m not returning it, Neve, so it will just be wasted if you don’t take it.”