Page 2

Ellie

M y first two weeks at Armitage whirl by in a blur of learning new schedules and attending my classes. As a first-year student who ‘came prepared’, I’d already accepted that university was going to be a major step up compared to high school. I knew I would have to adapt and learn quickly if I was going to impress my professors and survive the next three or four years with my sanity still intact, but I had no idea it would be like this. All the reading material, case studies, assignments, tests and exams to study and prepare for and it’s only been fourteen days!

All I can say is; good luck to anyone who underestimated it.

Thankfully, Liv and I both have Natalie who’s starting her second year at Armitage’s state-of-the-art culinary school. To say that her little tips and tricks have been extremely helpful, would be the understatement of the century. Without her, I would’ve felt like my head was being plunged underwater more than once, but so far, my classes have gone well and my professors seem to like me (when they notice me, of course), but there’s aprominent air of expectation. They expect greatness. Not just from scholarship students like me, but from everyone.

Not that I’m surprised .

Armitage is a top-tier university and is considered to be one of the best tertiary institutions in the world. Part of what makes it so highly regarded is owed to the fact that they don’t accept as many students as other renowned universities such as Cambridge, Trinity or Oxford. Most people seek a place at Armitage simply for the exclusivity of saying that they went there while others like the security of knowing that getting a job will be that much easier if they produce an Armitage degree during a job interview. I specifically applied for a scholarship here, because not only is their English literature and creative writing programme challenging, but it’s also one of the best in the country. Getting an undergraduate, and hopefully, a postgraduate degree I had to work hard to earn appeals to me a lot more than merely having bragging rights. So far everything has gone exactly how I envisioned it would, except for one significant hiccup; my relationship with Marco.

After what happened at The Croft at Arms – or ‘The Arms’ as I’ve learnt students from Armitage prefer to call it – things have been strained between us, mostly because we’ve hardly seen or spoken to each other since that night. At first, it made sense. With the start of term, we’ve both been incredibly busy settling in and adjusting to our new schedules, but whenever I’ve tried to make plans with him just lately, he always seems to have an endless number of excuses lined up to avoid doing anything with me.

He can’t tonight, because he has an early morning lecture tomorrow.

He can’t because he needs to spend the afternoon working on an assignment.

He’s already agreed to go to a study group that he can’t afford to miss .

He needs to get to bed early because he has rugby practice in the morning.

I never question him when he uses that last excuse.

Even when we were children, playing rugby was always incredibly important to Marco and I’ve been nothing, but supportive of his dream to play the sport professionally one day. This season is particularly crucial for him and it could determine his whole future in the sport. It’s all he’s talked about for months now. I would never stand in the way of that, no matter how badly I want to spend time with him, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t tried to figure out a way around his other excuses. Like offering to grab a quick cup of coffee with him in between classes, helping him research for his assignments or having an early dinner together after his study group or before he goes to bed, but he keeps side-stepping my ideas, almost as if he thinks doing any of them will give him the plague or something.

Okay, maybe that’s a bit dramatic, but that’s how it feels.

We did talk about what happened with his friends and he did apologise for leaving me at the pub, but it didn’t feel nearly as genuine or as heartfelt as I had hoped it would. Neither have any of the other apologies he’s thrown my way since. The last straw happened yesterday though when we agreed to meet for lunch and he didn’t bother to show up. I waited at the restaurant for over an hour, trying to call him several times before he finally answered and explained that his rugby practice had been rescheduled and he forgot to tell me. He promised to make it up to me of course, but I can’t escape the awful, sinking feeling that’s taken up residence in my stomach.

For most of our relationship, and not necessarily by choice, I’d grown used to not seeing my boyfriend all the time. We’re two years apart in age, which means that when we started dating, he was nineteen and already at Bancroft while I was seventeen and still finishing high school back home in Surrey. In the beginning, we Facetimed, talked on the phone all the time and texted each other non-stop. He’d come home for holidays and on the weekends and I even convinced my mum to let me take the train to Craigavon once or twice to visit him, but at some point (and I can’t exactly recall when) that suddenly stopped. I had hoped that both of us being here would bring us closer together again. I was convinced that even with rugby practices, matches and our intense academic workload, we’d still find plenty of time to behave like a regular couple. Sneaking into each other’s rooms late at night, surprising each other after class and going out on proper, romantic dates at least once a week. That seems like a fantasy now and the ever-present knot inside me keeps tightening painfully, trying to force me to face something that I really don’t want to.

“I say you should dump the prick!”

The sound of Liv’s voice yanks me out of my thoughts and back to the present.

We’re sitting beneath one of the massive oak trees in Armitage’s impressive central courtyard. The wind picks up and a shower of leaves falls from the branches above, twirling around us in a dazzling display of dark reds, deep golds and rustic browns before they scatter across the freshly mowed grass. It’s sometime in the middle of the afternoon and the main campus is quiet, with only a handful of students still around, either studying or talking in small groups like us. Thankfully, there aren’t too many of them sitting near us or they’d all be subjected to one of Liv’s trademarked tirades .

“I’m being serious, El,” She continues, “You can try talking to him again, but all he’s going to do is pull another half-hearted apology out of his ass and you’ll just end up exactly where you are now, and I know it sounds like I’m being harsh, but it’s bloody infuriating! You need to take control and give him an ultimatum; either he jacks himself up and starts being a better boyfriend or you’ll break up with him. It’s that simple!”

I adjust my hat to keep the sun out of my eyes, feeling the uneven bark of the tree's trunk dig into my back. I grip my copy of Atonement by Ian McEwan (which I’ve been trying to read for the last half-hour) tightly in my hands.

Simple.

Nothing about this is simple, sadly.

Predicably when I filled my friends in on what actually happened with Marco, they were both furious and wanted to and I quote; ‘find the bastard and rip his head off’. At the time, I appreciated their spirited response, but I kind of wish I hadn’t told them now. Especially Liv who was always more than happy to jump on the ‘I Hate Marco Andersen’ bandwagon well before this.

She is right though.

I need to confront Marco and lay out my growing concerns about our relationship with him, but like I said; it’s not that simple. If anything, it’s complicated.

“And don’t you dare spew that whole ‘it’s complicated’ nonsense again either!” Liv adds like she magically read my mind. “Mark my words I’m going to kick that stroppy tosser right in the balls one day!”

Despite my inner turmoil, I glance at her with a fond mixture of affection and amusement. For all her aggressive posturing, Liv looks nothing like you’d expect. Of the three of us, she’s the youngest by a few months with a slim, petite and delicate frame that doesn’t make her look intimidating at all. Today, her golden blonde hair is tied back in a neat single French plait and her chocolate brown eyes, which are usually open and friendly, are swimming with exhilaration at the mere thought of causing bodily harm to my boyfriend.

“You’re not helping, Liv.” Natalie chastises from her spot on the grass. She’s lying on her back, bathed in the late autumn sun, her grey eyes intensely focused as she sketches away in the notepad which she always carries with her.

“How is that not helping?” Liv argues, “I think it would be cathartic to watch him writhe on the floor in pain after everything he’s done.”

Nat smiles and sets her sketch pad off to the side, her loose hair swishing above her shoulders as she props herself up on her elbow, looking at us.

“You know he technically hasn’t done anything wrong, right?”

“Uh yes, he has. Firstly, he left our friend alone at a pub like a wanker. Secondly, he’s been blowing her off for two weeks straight like a wanker and thirdly, he ditched her at that restaurant yesterday like a wanker!”

“Okay yes, he hasn’t been the best boyfriend, but he did apologise and it is the beginning of term. It’s not his fault they rescheduled things on him and maybe he’s just really busy at the moment.”

Liv scoffs. “Or maybe he’s just full of shit!”

“Whether he is or isn’t, isn’t for you to decide though. Have you even considered what Ellie thinks or wants? ”

“I have actually and I think she’d probably thank me if I took him down with a well-placed kick to the family jewels, wouldn’t you, El?”

I open my mouth to respond, but Nat groans, interjecting before I can.

“For the millionth time, Olivia you can’t just go around kicking people in the balls.”

“Um, yes I can if they deserve it, Natalie .”

“Oh, for the love of…” Nat mutters, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“What? ” Liv says, throwing her hands up defensively. “Is it a crime to think he should get what’s coming to him for hurting one of my best friends? He deserves it!”

“And you’re going to give it to him, is that it?”

Liv turns her chin up defiantly. “If the opportunity arises, yes.”

Nat snorts, lowering herself back to the ground and grabbing her notepad again. “Okay babe, best of luck with that.”

I smirk and roll my eyes, shaking my head at the two of them before turning my attention back to my book.

This wouldn’t be the first time Liv has threatened to kick Marco in the balls nor is it the first time Nat has tried to dissuade her from doing it. It likely won’t be the last time either. Like all the times before though, she probably won’t go through with it. Hopefully, she won’t. Normally, listening to them bicker would bring a smile to my face and even make me laugh, but I frown instead, anxiety bubbling away inside me unbridled because unknowingly or not, they’ve hit my newly developed sore spot right on the head. My relationship with Marco isn’t fine and as much as I’d love to say that Natalie is right and this is all happening for logical and totally understandable reasons, I have a horrible feeling that Liv is the one who’s actually right in this instance. It’s a hard truth to swallow, especially since I never imagined Marco and I would end up here. Our parents are friends, we grew up together and ran in the same circles. Went to the same schools. Hung out with the same people. Not to mention I had a huge crush on him for years. Thinking back on it now, there’s hardly been an important event in my life that didn’t involve him somehow. We were friends before we were anything else. The two of us dating was something I always wanted to happen which is why I’ve never questioned it, until now.

What if we do break up?

I don’t even want to entertain the possibility of that happening, but given how strange he’s been acting and how insecure I’ve been feeling lately…

Would it be awkward seeing him around Craigavon?

Bumping into him back at home?

Would I have to endure the pain and embarrassment of seeing him be with someone else?

I swallow around the sharp nails digging into my throat.

I couldn’t bear that.

“El, are you all right?”

A hand touches my shoulder and I blink, snapping my eyes up to see both Liv and Nat staring at me with obvious concern carved into their faces.

Crap.

If I could kick myself I would. Their reactions aren’t surprising given that I looked deeply troubled a moment ago, but I wanted to avoid worrying them until there was a real reason for them to worry .

“It was something we said, wasn’t it?” Liv mumbles, looking like she’s ready to burst at the seams with guilt, but I smile softly, pulling her in for a hug.

“It’s okay,” I tell them both, finding Natalie’s equally ashamed eyes over Liv’s shoulder. “You guys aren’t wrong, but it is complicated. Yes, I am concerned that my boyfriend seems to be distancing himself from me and that our relationship is in a bad place, but I don’t want to overthink or act irrationally either, you know? Not until I know the whole picture first.”

“Of course!” Nat agrees immediately. “We just want what’s best for you, babe.”

“We really do,” Liv echoes, “And I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

I give her a tight squeeze so she’ll stop talking.

They don’t have to apologise or feel bad. After more than a decade of being best friends, I see them more as sisters than anything. Natalie is the protective, yet level-headed older sister and Liv is the sweet, yet slightly more impulsive younger one. From the moment we met, we haven’t gone more than a few days without seeing or speaking to each other in some way, shape or form even after Natalie left for university. I know both of them had concerns about my relationship with Marco, but they also accepted that he makes me happy which is why I know they didn’t mean anything by what they just said. They’re just trying to protect me and make me feel better, the same way I’d go to the ends of the earth to do the same for them if they needed me to.

Pulling back from my hug with Liv, I slip my book inside my messenger bag and get to my feet .

“I’m just going to go for a walk. Clear my head for a bit . I’ll see you guys later, okay?”

Nat stands as well and I can tell she wants to say something, but I wrap my arms around her before she can. I appreciate the thought, but a pep talk isn’t what I need right now.

I need to be alone.

I spend the next hour or so wandering around the campus aimlessly, taking in its lush gardens and ornate neoclassical architecture which has aged magnificently with time. The pictures on the university’s website don’t do it justice at all. At times, it still feels like I’ve walked into a dream or like I’m attending Hogwarts or something. I feel a familiar tingle of inspiration zing to life and reach inside my bag, pulling out my camera and snapping a few images of my surroundings.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve always wanted to be a writer, but much like Natalie’s sketching habit, photography was a hobby I picked up because of my mum. I doubt I’ll ever make a career out of it like she has, but I enjoy doing it all the same. I’m in the middle of taking a picture of a goldfinch that’s busy eating crumbs of food off the floor when I sense someone approaching from behind.

“Well, fancy seeing you again.”

I freeze.

No.

It can’t be.

Clutching my camera tightly, I straighten up slowly and turn around, a lump materialising in my throat when I meet a familiar pair of icy blue eyes. It’s him. The man I bump into outside The Arms. Dressed in jeans, white trainers and a maroon hoodie with the words ‘Armitage University’ embroidered into it, he looks every bit as calm and causal as he did when I last saw him. My insides tighten as my misfiring brain struggles to process the fact that he’s here, standing in front of me again. To be honest, I’ve hardly thought about him since our odd meeting, mostly because I’ve been distracted by my never-ending issues with Marco, but also because I was certain that my chances of seeing him again were about as likely as me walking on the moon.

Guess I was wrong about that.

“Wh-what are you doing here?”

“You mean, what am I doing at the university I happen to go to?” He replies, quirking a playful eyebrow at me, “That’s an interesting question.”

Embarrassment cascades over me and I close my eyes, wishing the ground would crack open and swallow me whole. Apparently, I’m not just stunned, but blind as well given what’s written on the sweatshirt he’s wearing.

“Sorry, I just…I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon.” Or ever again, really.

“Right.” His mouth hitches with a smile and a flicker of humour dances in his eyes.

We stand there for a minute, him staring at me silently and me still at a complete loss for words, before I finally break eye contact and slip my camera back inside my satchel, using it as my cue to leave.

“Well, I’ll see you around I guess.”

I turn and walk away, expecting him to stay put only to be shocked, yet again, when he appears at my side instead. I tip my head back to look at him, my eyes just about bugging out of their sockets.

“Can I help you with something?” I ask, puzzled .

“Nope, I was heading this way as well and thought maybe we could walk together.”

“Um. Okay. Why?”

“Why not?”

I roll my eyes at his annoyingly witty reply and he laughs quietly, evidently pleased with himself.

Fine. Whatever.

He seems harmless enough and there are still plenty of students around who can intervene if he tries anything weird. I adjust my cap and peer up at him periodically as we walk, using each opportunity to study him a little more closely, but you know, also discreetly. He moves beside me with a quiet confidence that suits him and while the expression on his face remains entirely relaxed, it’s also vague, failing to give away anything that’s going through his head right now. What’s his angle exactly? He must have some kind of ulterior motive. Most men do and I don’t think it would be particularly hard to figure out what his one is. In my experience, guys don’t talk to a girl unless they have a reason to and usually, those reasons involve trying to get them into a bed.

Was our conversation outside the pub really that captivating?

Was I that captivating?

Somehow, I doubt it.

He catches me staring then and I’m wholly unprepared for the moment when he grins and winks at me, causing my insides to tumble into an unexpected freefall.

God, he really is handsome.

Devastatingly so.

Sharp pinches of guilt jab at me. I shouldn’t think about things like that, especially given how precarious things are with my boyfriend at the moment, but at the same time, I’m just noticing something that happens to be true, right? It would be the same as acknowledging that people like Kate Winslet or Henry Cavill are good-looking. I’m not doing anything wrong so to speak, and besides, it’s not like Marco hasn’t openly ‘appreciated’ other women before either. Even when I’m standing right next to him sometimes. Though I’ve never been a terribly big fan of that.

“So, how have your first two weeks at Armitage been?” My unexpected companion asks out of nowhere.

I look at him peculiarly, a little taken aback by his casual tone. He’s acting like we’re old friends catching up when this is literally our second time meeting. If you could even call that first encounter a ‘meeting’.

“Um, I’m managing so far.”

“And your classes, are you enjoying them?”

I stop walking and narrow my eyes at him warily. “Why are you asking me so many questions?”

“Because I’m interested in finding out more about you.” He stops as well and looks at me, grinning and tilting his head to one side. “Am I not allowed to be?”

“Well, no…I mean, yes.” I say, faltering a little. “It’s just, well…I don’t even know your name.”

“Easily remedied. I’m Colin.”

He holds a large hand out between us and I stare at it hesitantly before I grasp it with my much smaller one. His skin is warm and feels calloused on the palm and, I swear, something jolts inside me as soon as we touch.

“Ellie Simpkins.”

He smirks in reply, gently squeezing my hand. “There. Just like that, we’ve become best mates. ”

I level him with a look.

Great.

Now he’s a comedian.

His smirk stretches into a wide smile that’s kind of breathtaking and even though it takes him longer than it should, he eventually releases my hand, taking its warmth with him. We carry on walking, falling in step with each other again.

“So, Ellie ,” Colin says making a show out of using my name, “Are you enjoying your classes so far?”

“Why yes I am, thank you, Colin .”

He chuckles deeply in the back of his throat at my sarcastic tone making my stomach do an involuntary flip.

“Are you studying photography?” He asks, recalling that I was using my camera a moment ago.

“No, I got into the Garrick’s English literature and creative writing programme, actually. Photography is just a hobby.”

He whistles low, lifting his eyebrows. “Wow, that’s impressive. Not a lot of people get into that programme.”

I smile, unable to hide it. It’s a stark contrast to Marco’s response who barely acknowledged it when I told him. “Thanks. What about you?”

“Business and I won’t say anything more about that unless you want me to, because it’s boring as piss to most people.”

Looking at him, that’s exactly what I expected him to say. With his broad shoulders and tall stature, I can easily picture him dressed in an expensive suit, sitting behind a desk in a big, fancy office somewhere in London. It fits with his whole larger-than-life appearance.

“You’re staring again.” Colin points out quietly.

Crap .

Was I?

My skin overheats and I immediately look away, just catching the fringes of his smile.

“A-and do you enjoy it?” I ask, hurriedly changing the subject. “Studying business, I mean.”

“Yes and no. Parts of it are interesting and useful I suppose, but mostly it’s dull. I wanted to study History actually, but my dad convinced me that getting a degree in business would be more practical.”

Laughter bubbles out of me before I can stop it, taking us both by surprise.

“You find something about that amusing, Simpkins?”

Simpkins.

My insides fill with something fuzzy when he says that. I’ve never had a nickname other than ‘El’ or ‘Ellie-bear’ before, and my mum is the only one who ever calls me by that last one. Even Marco doesn’t have a special name he likes to use for me.

I don’t exactly hate the sound of this one though.

“You don’t look like someone who likes history, that’s all.”

“Is that so?” The skin around his eyes crinkles when he smiles, “And how are people who like history supposed to look exactly?”

“Like scrawny, brainiac bookworms maybe? or those giant, bald Viking-types with thick beards,” I explain, giggling again.

“I see, well I can’t do anything about the ‘scrawny bookworm’ look, but can shave my head and grow out my stubble if that’ll make it more believable. ”

“Oh yeah, that’ll definitely make it more believable,” I joke, making us both laugh.

He’s actually handsome enough that he could probably pull that look off, though it would be a shame if he shaved his head. His hair looks incredible as it is. I almost make the mortifying mistake of saying that out loud, but thankfully, I bite down on my tongue before I can. It’s only then that I notice a large group of male students, sporting wide, toothy grins, heading straight for us. My pace slows as they draw closer and, for a second, I’m convinced they’re gawking at me until I realise their attention isn’t aimed at me at all, but at the person standing next to me instead.

“Hey Col, good luck for next week, mate! We’re counting on you!” One of them yells.

“Yeah, give ‘em hell, Hunt!” Someone else shouts . The rest of the group cheers in agreement, a few of them giving Colin a pat on the shoulder as they pass.

“Yeah, thanks lads,” Colin says, ducking his head with a brief nod, almost like he’s embarrassed.

What on earth was that all about? And did that one guy just call him ‘Hunt’? For some reason, the name sounds familiar, but I can’t for the life of me place why.

I look at him curiously. “What’s happening next week?”

“The opening match of the rugby season,” Colin answers like that should be common knowledge to everyone, including me. “It’s a derby match as well; Armitage versus Bancroft. Should be a decent challenge to start things off.”

I stumble over the empty air in front of me, catching myself at the last second. “Wait, you’re a rugby player? ”

He smirks crookedly, gently grasping my elbow and helping me stand up straight. My skin burns like a hot iron where his hand touches me, even after he lets me go.

“Last time I checked I am, yeah.”

“And you’re playing Bancroft next week?”

“Yes,” He chuckles, amused by my growing alarm. “Is that a problem?”

Well, no, not really, but it sort of is too, because now I know exactly who I’m talking to and walking with. Colin Hunt. Fullback for the Armitage Admirals, their most valuable player and, more crucially, my boyfriend’s arch-nemesis. That’s why his surname sounded so familiar! I must have heard Marco say it at least a dozen times over the summer.

“My boyfriend plays for Bancroft, actually.”

“Your boyfriend?”

I nod, swallowing a little anxiously. “Marco Andersen.”

Colin’s eyebrows nearly shoot up into his hairline when he hears the name, realisation taking shape in his eyes. “You’re Andersen’s girlfriend?”

I nod my head again, this time sheepishly because I should’ve pieced everything together long before this.

Looking at him, it’s obvious that he’s a rugby player. He’s certainly built like one and, as I said before, I’ve heard his last name enough times that it should’ve been committed to my memory by now. In my defence though, I’ve never seen a picture of him before and I was a bit blindsided earlier when he just appeared out of nowhere. I honestly wasn’t expecting to see him again and I definitely wasn’t expecting to find out that he’s the man who’s single-handedly responsible for making my boyfriend and his teammate's lives a living hell on the rugby field .

A stretch of silence passes between us and I feel myself squirm with nerves. I have no clue how Colin’s going to react to finding out that I’m dating his rival, let alone that I have a boyfriend in the first place. I probably should’ve said something about being in a relationship sooner than this, but we’ve only met twice. It’s not like he’s a friend or anything, but I don’t want him to think I was leading him on either, because I wasn’t. Not intentionally anyway.

Will he be angry or upset maybe?

I wouldn’t be surprised if his whole demeanour changed and he left without saying another word to me.

I am his rival's girlfriend after all.

Technically that makes me ‘the enemy’, doesn’t it?

But Colin does the exact opposite of what I anticipate he’ll do. He smiles, almost cockily, and I hate to admit how good the arrogant expression looks on his face.

“So, I take it you’ve heard some stories then?”

“I’ve heard them all, actually.”

“Really?” Colin says, folding his arms across his chest. “Like what exactly?”

“Like you’re a real bastard who’s annoyingly and consistently good every time you set foot on the field.”

I’m being nice.

Usually, comments about him are more along the lines of;

‘That fucking Hunt! He hardly misses a catch, a kick or a tackle and if you give him just an inch of fucking space, he’ll use it to his advantage and without mercy. It’s fucking infuriating!’

‘We would’ve won that game if Hunt wasn’t on the goddamn field! ’

‘Fuck Hunt! He’s not going to upstage me again this season! I won’t let him!’

I’ve heard Marco say something to that effect multiple times, always with jealousy and venom dripping from his lips . I half expect Colin to puff up and grow even more arrogant, but to my surprise, he laughs, almost like he’s mildly embarrassed.

“Guilty as charged. I can be quite competitive, especially when it comes to rugby, but I’ll endeavour to take it easy on him this time around, though I can’t promise anything.”

I mimic his stance, folding my arms over my chest and smirking up at him as well.

“And what if he doesn’t take it easy on you?” I’ve seen Marco play. He can be downright vicious on the field as well.

Colin’s grin broadens. “You worried about my safety, Simpkins?”

“No, just giving you a fair warning is all.”

He steps a millimetre closer, not breaking eye contact with me. “Thanks, but I can handle myself.”

I’m sure he can.

I still don’t know what his game is exactly, but I do appreciate him not making this as awkward as it could have been if he’d reacted differently. I do feel like I should explain myself further so that there’s no more confusion between us in the future – if we even have a future – but that train of thought gets interrupted when my mobile beeps suddenly. Giving Colin an apologetic look, I pull it out of my coat pocket, finding a new text from Marco.

What impeccable timing.

Marco: Hey El, sorry I've been M.I.A lately. Could we meet up tomorrow maybe?

A massive grin spreads over my lips.

It seems my boyfriend has finally come to his senses. He certainly took his time.

Me: Sure! Where do you want to meet?

Marco: The Thistlewood Café for breakfast, 8 A.M.?

Me: I’ll be there.

I pocket my phone, finally feeling that aching knot that’s been weighing me down start to unravel. I need to get home and tell Liv and Nat immediately.

“Good news?”

I jerk at the sound of Colin’s voice.

Shit. I forgot he was still here.

He’s already staring at me when I look at him again, his hands stuffed into the front pocket of his hoodie now.

“Um yes, you could say that. That was Marco. We haven’t really seen each other much since term started, because he’s been busy, but…”

“But he finally got his head out of his ass?”

I laugh meekly. “Yeah, something like that.”

Colin smiles with his eyes this time and I pause, a profound sense of curiosity filling me. He really doesn’t seem that bad, or at least, not as bad as Marco likes to paint him out to be. If anything, he’s been very understanding, friendly even and it doesn’t seem like he’s trying to weasel his way into my pants like I was worried he was before. I rarely make a mistake when reading someone. Hopefully, I’ll never see him again, so I don’t have to relive this.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him, offering it as a general apology for everything, “But I should probably get going.”

He nods his head and I flash him a quick, but cumbersome smile before I turn on my heels and start walking away .

“Hey, Ellie?”

I stop, facing him again . Those striking blue irises bore into me and something prickles to life beneath the surface of my skin the longer I stare back.

“I’ll see you around.”

My lips part slightly.

Those are the same words I said to him earlier, only coming from him they sound more like a promise he intends to keep rather than a means of escape. I swallow hard and stay rooted to the spot for a second or two like a part of me doesn’t want to leave, but I quickly shove the bizarre feeling aside, scurrying away in the opposite direction.