“My parents are. I’m just lucky, I guess.” I shift on my feet, feeling embarrassed when she remains silent. “What about your parents? I mean, are you close with them?”
“No. I don’t…I don’t talk about them.” Now it’s her turn to be embarrassed, and I want to tell her it’s okay, that sometimes we just don’t get along with the people who gave birth to us, but she doesn’t let me talk. “Anyway, I can’t just not pay rent. I mean, I don’t wanna live for free.”
I puff out a breath, thinking. “Okay, so how about this? You can chip in some other way. Like, maybe you can grocery shop? And also cook? I’m terrible at that kind of stuff. I never remember to buy anything other than Twizzlers.”
Her eyes squint as she mulls it over. “I can do that. I mean, I’m not a great cook, but I do like cooking. I cook for Dylan all the time, so I’m totally in.”
“So you’ll do it? Move in?”
“Yes.” She laughs, and in a surprising act, wraps me in a tight hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I can’t believe I finally found something great. I am so freaking happy right now.”
Her hug makes me feel all choked up, like a frog is croaking in the depths of my throat. “It’s gonna be great.”
“Yes.” She moves away, beaming.
She continues touring the house and balcony. We decide on a move-in day—tomorrow.
“I’d do it today but we’ve got the poetry night and I won’t be able to find anyone to help me move my stuff.”
“Poetry night?”
“Oh yes.” She shakes her head. “I forget you’re new. So every other Saturday we meet up at this bar called The Alchemy, just outside of campus. It’s pretty informal. We read our stuff to each other. Sometimes theatre people do their shows, but tonight is poetry night and I’m reading some of my poems. You should come.”
“Sure.”
________________
I am bundled up in my white beanie and my purple fur coat, which is buttoned up to my chin. My thigh-high boots crunch over the pavement as I reach the red door of The Alchemy and enter.
It’s a small space with exposed brick walls and vaulted ceilings, the kind you find in a church. Wooden beams run along the length of the roof, lit up with Christmas lights. The air is warm and laced with a fruity aroma. Just like the Labyrinth, this place is bursting with energy.
My eyes take in the artwork on the walls, the mock guitars, the musical notes, the framed newspaper clippings, the silhouettes of people dancing in various poses, along with black and white photos of some of the famous writers I’ve only come to know this week.
“Hey, Layla!” I hear Emma’s voice over the crowd and find her waving at me from the bar. “Over here!”
“Hey!” I barrel through to get to her and greet her with an amused smile when I see she’s balancing three drinks in her hands. I take one glass from her and we wind our way through the scattered layout of tables.
“Hey guys, this is Layla, my new roommate,” she says as we reach her table. There are a couple of guys sitting; one’s Dylan, and the other one I don’t know.
“Hello.” I finger-wave at them.
Both wave back and the guy introduces himself as Matt. Dylan stands up and gives me his chair. “Hey Layla. So glad you came.”
Now that Emma has revealed that Dylan likes me, I analyze his behavior. He’s both shy and chatty, adorably awkward. It’s a harmless crush, the kind I have on Thomas, which ties my tongue, gives me wet dreams, and makes my crazy heart pound faster. It’s not easy and comfortable. It’s not what he feels for Emma.
I’m aware that I’m sitting wedged between the two would-be lovebirds, but I’m not budging. I need to prove to Emma that Dylan is into her.
Leaning toward Dylan, I ask, “How are you guys drinking alcohol? Aren’t you all underage?”
Dylan gulps as I shoot him a flirty smile. Emma is sitting strained in her seat. I hope she trusts me.
“It’s all, uh, props. They don’t serve alcohol on Labyrinth night.”
“So what is it that you’re drinking?” I grab his glass and take a sip.
His mouth hangs open before he closes it and clears his throat. “A Hemingway. It’s just…a dummy martini.”
“Sounds boring.” I bat my eyelashes and Dylan almost spits out his drink. I take pity on him and turn toward Emma. Matt is talking to her, but I know she isn’t listening. She is more attuned to what’s going on between me and the love of her life.
I nudge her with my elbow. “Walk with me to the bar.”
I don’t wait for her agreement and get up from my seat. I know she’ll follow. We make our way to the bar and I order a purple drink on the menu, then lean against the dark wood.
“So here’s my plan,” I tell her. She looks sad. “Cheer up. I’m ready to prove you wrong.”
“By flirting with him?”
“Yes, among other things.”
“You know what, I’m just gonna go—”
“Would you relax? I asked you to trust me.” I give her a meaningful look until she nods. “Okay. So I want you to flirt with Matt, or at least talk to him. I’m going to keep Dylan busy, and I bet you anything he’ll come out of this jealous and totally irritated by me.”
“I don’t…” She shakes her head.
“Come on. It’s going to be fun. Besides, he should get a little taste of what you go through every day.”
She scrunches her nose and thinks it over. My drink is here so I take a sip and watch her. “Don’t you think it’s…vengeful to do that?”
“Yeah, it is, but if you don’t do anything, he’ll never realize how much he likes you and will miss out on the awesomeness that is you. Now that’s vengeful.” Emma laughs and I steer her to our table. “Think of it as a favor to him, okay?”
“Okay.”
As we walk through the crowd, my legs come to a halt. I feel something moving inside me. It spans my chest and my belly, going around to my spine, an urgent, incessant pulse. My gaze jumps to the door and he’s there.
Thomas. Professor Abrams. My crush.
Maybe I’m regressing, going back to those precocious years in high school when girls giggle and gossip about their handsome teachers. Back then, everything was invisible to me but Caleb. I never cared enough to look elsewhere or have a life of my own.
But I’m ready now. I need the control back. I need the normalcy. It’s so ironic that the very unrequitedness that destroyed me is going to keep the pain at bay.
Thomas strides to the opposite side of the bar and comes to stand beside another man, one who’s shorter than him and dressed in a more formal style.
I scurry back to the table and take my seat. Emma gives me an admonishing look and I mouth, Sorry. Then I resume flirting with Dylan while Emma talks with Matt.