Giles makes it his mission to keep my mind off of it for the rest of the night. Dragging me from game to game, giving away his stuffed toys to random kids in order to free his arms to win more prizes. He's ridiculously good at these games and sometimes people gather to watch him win where others have failed. It gets to the point where I beg him to tell me his secret, so that I can win, just once. I'm overcome with laughter at the mischievous way he refuses to reveal his tactics, all the while reveling loudly at his own prowess.
"Hang on a second," he says. "I want to remember this."
He pulls out his phone and snaps pictures to document his epic, winning streak. I ask him to let me look at the stupid pictures, but he refuses, telling me losers don't get to make demands. His teasing is lighthearted and only makes me jab him hard with my elbow.
He's hard to take seriously, even when he's being an ass.
When we tire of the games, he nudges me in the direction of the rides, all of which look nauseating, spinning or plunging in one way or another. I'm pretty sure I'll throw up what I've eaten if I risk one of those. So, instead, I convince Giles to get on the Ferris wheel. I'm excited. I love Ferris wheels, but he jokes the entire way up about how incredibly boring of a ride it is.
It isn't boring, though. Not with the view of the fair down below, and the increasingly cooler night drawing us inward. And not when, in a seemingly random move, he pulls something small, orange, and black from his pocket and hands it to me.
A tiny stuffed leopard.
"Why do you keep calling me little leopard?"
His eyes narrow and he asks his own question in turn. "What do you know about leopards?"
I shrug. "They're a feline."
"Not just any feline. The leopard is one of the deadliest creatures in the world. Most animals would flee if they got hurt. But a leopard? A leopard is more ferocious and dangerous when wounded. They'll fight right to the end. That's how I see you...you're insanely feisty like that."
He flashes me a coy smile but I cast my eyes down at the asymmetrical black spots of the stuffed animal, running my fingers over the fur. Hearing him profess the strength he sees in me, on a day when I feel so weak and defeated for crying, lifts me up just a little higher than this Ferris wheel.
This is what friends do, isn't it?
This night marks the end of one of the worst weekends I've had in a long time, twisting my grim mood into something resembling hope that the worst is behind me.
Except, the night isn't over yet.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Julia
WE GET HOME AND MAKE a beeline for our respective rooms. I lie awake for a while, thinking about how much I enjoyed spending time with Giles. It feels nice to have someone to lean on. To literally lean on. And there's something that much more satisfying when it's someone you find attractive. Like there are layers added to the comfort that wouldn't otherwise be there.
I guess it wouldn't feel as good to press my face against his chest. Or to feel his arms resting over me. It wouldn't feel so good to have his face inches from mine, if he wasn't as beautiful as he is...
My next conscious thought is of my eyes flying open to darkness in my bedroom. The sound of a door shutting is almost a distant memory, though I'm sure that's what woke me. I stare at the ceiling through the dim blue glow of my alarm clock. There's shuffling outside of my door, followed by the unmistakable sound of Ava saying, "Shhh..." to someone else.
Another door closes, this one closer. The door to Ava's bedroom. More muffled noises. The baritone of a man speaking, his words undecipherable but the smoothness of his suggestion piques my attention. Ava giggles, a mattress creaks.
Oh my god.
She must've brought home that guy she was all over at the pool party. I forget his name, but I've never seen him around before. It seems like their plans don't include sleep. I cover my face with my hands to stifle a nervous laugh. An awkward energy washes over me. Am I supposed to lie here and listen to this? Should I leave? Images of the nighttime streets outside the house flash through my mind, deserted roads, and storefronts with blinds pulled down and signs turned to 'closed.'
Moaning and more of the smooth baritone drums over me, and I'm embarrassed by how the sounds flood me with warmth.
This is sick.
I grab my pillow and pull it over my head, but that does nothing to drown out the noises next door. The unmistakable clashing of bodies dripping with lust. Moans growing steadily out of control, muffled words that I can only imagine are of encouragement. And my mind's eye flickers to images of Ava's thin frame handled by that handsome stranger, cast in shadow as he spins her around to her stomach and...
My phone pings and I shoot up, fumbling around for it quickly, afraid that the sound will alert Ava to my listening. But the rhythmic clapping noises next door remain unaffected.
On my phone, there's a text message.
[You're not getting any sleep tonight.]
It's from Giles. I turn off the sound on my phone and before I can respond, another message comes in.
[Those two fuck for hours. Come over here. You can't hear it as much.]
[Come over, where? To your room?]
[Yeah.]
I almost laugh.
[Nice try.]
[What? It's not like we haven't slept in the same bed before.]
This time I do laugh. Then my sights dart to the wall in front of me, the one separating my room from Ava's and I hear the desperate groaning and moaning, the frantic squeaking of furniture. My stomach ties in uncomfortable knots all over again. It's just awkward, having to listen to this. What are my choices, really? Where can I go at two in the morning? Everything on campus is closed.
Still, I'm not going to Giles's room. No way. Last night when I was sick was one thing. But getting in bed with him now? The thought of going in to see him brings more knots to my stomach. We're friends now, I remind myself. Yet, the thought of it still seems like walking into a lion's den.
[No thanks. I'll find something to shove into my ears.]
I lock my phone and set it on the bedside table, facedown.
Irritation surges through me that I'm put in this position in the first place. Though, that's ridiculous. Ava has every right to screw in her room. And the fact that I'm uncomfortable with it is my problem, not hers. I shouldn't be listening. But she really could make an effort to be stealthy. I mean, those noises are not of two people worried about making a scene.
I lie back down, tossing and turning. Pull a pillow over my head, then another. Feeling completely ridiculous over the warm, tingling sensations flooding me, the pooling between my legs as the sounds of pleasure from next-door show no signs of quelling.
Ugh. This is beyond awkward.
After a few long minutes of trying to tune out the noises, I get out of bed with the intention to grab a glass of water. I think there may be headphones in one of the kitchen drawers. It's worth a look. Hesitant, I step out of my room, closing my bedroom door carefully behind me. There's no way I can miss the fact that, down the hall, the door to Giles's room is slightly open, as though in anticipation of my arrival.