‘I thought so,’ he says knowingly and we smile. My mum’s right. Ben is good-looking and he’s easy to get on with.
‘So you didn’t get in through Clearing?’ he tests. He wants me to say I did. But I didn’t. I chose to be here, because of all the above-mentioned reasons.
‘No. This was my first choice.’
He looks doubtful. ‘Was it? Really?’
I nod.
‘Are you having me on?’
My eyebrows shoot up. ‘No. It’s got the course I want, and I loved the library here.’
‘You don’t look like a reader,’ he says. ‘And yet … all these books.’
My head twitches a bit. ‘Why don’t I look like a reader? I’m studying English Literature.’
‘Areyou?’ he asks, his voice rising in disbelief.
‘Yeah, what are you studying?’
‘I’m reading Business and Finance,’ he says.
I can’t help it, but I roll my eyes. Not because of the subject choice – which isn’t really a surprise – but it winds me up when people say they’re ‘reading’ instead of ‘studying’. I refuse to conform. It’s too arsey.
‘Why did you just roll your eyes?’ Ben asks, baulking at my expression. ‘Don’t think I didn’t see that.’
‘It was the way you phrased it,’ I say.
‘In what way, please?’
‘Never mind.’
‘No, no. Go on.’ He’s really trying to pin me down on this.
‘“Reading”. Not “studying”.’
‘Yeah?’ He’s confused, and now I’m really showing my ignorance.
That’s what’s happening here: I’m showing my ignorance and getting myself into a pickle. Let’s move on. ‘Never mind. Your parents are nice, aren’t they?’ I say.
‘Yeah. Mostly.’
‘Your dad has a fun sense of fashion. Red trousers.’ I wiggle my eyebrows to let him know I’m playing with him.
‘Those fucking trousers. Dad insists. He normally wears a panama hat this time of year too. Not today, though. We had words.’
I laugh.
Ben’s taken his sunglasses off now. His eyes are almond-shaped, a light shade of blue, and his sandy-blond hair is floppy at the front. He pushes it out of his eyes, takes me in. There’s a moment between us, sizzling with a quiet energy I can’t place.
‘Another drink?’ he asks.
‘Yeah, go on.’
‘Hello!’ someone shouts from the front door, still propped open and contravening all fire-safety regulations. ‘Anyone here?’
Ben, Ollie and I have been sitting in my room. After my mum left, with many tears on both sides while we said goodbye, Ollie naturally found his way towards us, clutchingofferings of crisps and booze. We’ve decided to wait for our fourth flatmate rather than leave them alone while we go to party with flat nine, although we’ve been back and forth atinybit and gone to the other flats to say hi. Some are up for chats, some are a bit silent, and I wonder how it is that like-minded people seem to have been placed together. Ben, Ollie and I so far seem like kindred spirits, now that Ollie’s had a drink and has started opening up about himself.
