CHAPTER
SIX
SLOANE
The chill in the air makes me shiver and I duck my chin into my lilac hoodie. Sweat cools along the back of my neck from my lifting session in the gym. I tighten my long, honey and ash blond ponytail, letting the fall atmosphere wick away at the perspiration.
Strolling across Ely’s campus at this hour is one of my favorite mundane things to do. No one is about, the sun hasn’t yet risen, and the orange lamplights illuminating the cobblestone and brick make this place look like something out of a fairytale or a fantasy.
I think of the framed photos I have of Edinburgh on my walls and dream of Scotland. I’ve never been; never traveled anywhere outside of the States, but as soon as I graduate, I’m going. I’ve been saving for years now. First from fast food jobs in high school, waitressing my first year at Ely, and now from any clothes I can resell online. The internships I’ve had the past couple of semesters have made it hard to fit in part-time work and I love my clothes, so the savings have gotten smaller but I’m sitting on a good amount.
I slip my phone out from my hoodie pocket as I walk by a fountain with a tiger prowling in the center, water spouting from its open, sneering mouth. The spray of water feels good along the side of my face and I sit down on one of the black iron benches that’s close enough to feel the condensation but not enough to get too wet. My glutes already ache and it’s a twenty minute walk from here to my apartment so why not chill a second? I’ve got hours before my first class, a deep dive on brand management.
My phone has no new texts which, considering it’s not even six in the morning, isn’t surprising, and all my social media notifications are turned off so I don’t get addicted.
I’m going to work in marketing, I know how the game works.
A yawn escapes my lips and maybe I shouldn’t have gotten up so early but I haven’t been sleeping well lately so I needed to get moving or else I’d rot in bed. The sleeplessness will eat at me if I let it. I go through periods of staying up entire nights, unable to focus in class without huge effort.
I think it comes from the fights. All the screaming and breaking I heard growing up in the night. It leaves a mark.
Not that I’ve mentioned my insomnia toanyone.Some things are better left unsaid. I learned that from being in a big family.
Speaking of, I open up my message thread with my older sister, Heather, and look at the most recent photo she sent me of my nephew, Rome. Rome is sitting on the floor surrounded by what looks like Heather’s Star Wars Lego set, completely demolished, Rome’s tiny fist closed around a chunk of pieces.
Heather
Had to pry them from his hands one by one.
I smile in the darkness, the fountain in front of me a welcome white noise from any less-than-positive thoughts. I’m not evenRome’s mother but when I first saw the photo, I thought with panic he might eat the Legos and choke on one. Heather was a doting, if overprotective, older sister, but still…anything can happen, right?
I swipe out of the thread. This is not conducive to relaxing, and last week when I went to a sunrise yoga class, the yoga teacher told me she could “see” anxiety in my form and I needed to spend more time “doing nothing.” She said the circles under my eyes would lessen if I did.
I haven’t gone back to any yoga since then.
Next, I make sure I texted Remi back last night. She told me Lyle is moving into sleeping half the night away and jokingly asked for me to babysit while she had a date night with Cortland. They pay an older woman on their street to help out so I know there’s no pressure, but I do want to see Lyle soon.
Maybe most of all, though, I want to see Remi.
I stare at our goodnight texts and close my eyes a second, thinking about mentioning Storm to her. Does she know he stayed over at my place the other night? She didn’t mention it, or tease me about it, so I don’t think so.
Part of me feels guilty even considering talking to her about him. He was one of the guys who had sex with her a few years back, when she was drunk and couldn’t consent. I know she doesn’t feel anything for him, and she lives with him, but is my stupid crush some kind of betrayal?
I take a breath, open my eyes, and type out a text before I can regret it. She’s hopefully asleep now anyway and I know she always has her phone ondo not disturbso I won’t have to deal with the consequences of it for a few hours.
I need to talk to you about something. Not bad. Don’t panic.
She will, just as I would, but I want her to be looking at my messages before I give her any kind of big reveal.
Feeling more agitated and less relieved, I keep scrolling through my texts and open up my last conversation with Storm.
I haven’t seen him since he left my apartment early on Sunday morning, three days ago, and grabbed me by the hand and pulled me to my door so I’d lock it after he left.
He texted me that evening.
Stormy
Thank you for letting me sleep over.
