Page 10

“My best friend.” Her eyes soften. “You’ll love her. Or hate her. Either way,” she shrugs, waving a hand. “You’ll be seeing a lot of her.”

I’m grateful for the distraction, to get out of the library. Being with Eden like this is so different from trying to teach her. Her eyes glimmer as she describes the taste of the broth. Her shoulder brushes against mine, and I try my hardest not to flinch when a bolt of electricity is sent through me. It’s so easy to walk beside her. It’s so easy being with her.

She orders for us, promising that she’s tried the entire menu and knows what’s best. When she slides into the booth opposite me, I have to resist the urge to reach over and take her hand. There’s something about the ambiance of this place that screams ‘date night’. Dim lighting, tiny booths. It looks straight out of a movie.

“So, Oliver.”

I love the way she says my name. It actually makes my skin tingle.

“How has the start of your semester been? I feel like all we do in our sessions is talk about my problems. I want to hear some of yours.”

I laugh in a desperate attempt to hide the flush creeping across my face. I promise I can talk to girls, but the way her eyes scrutinise me sends a ripple of heat across my skin. Even behind glasses her stare is intense, though I’m sure she doesn’t mean it to be. “Good, good,” I stutter out. Taking a breath, I continue. “To be fair, in our sessions you are paying me to help you. It makes sense for me not to talk about my assignments.” That makes her smile. “But personally, it’s been relatively engaging but I think I’ll be happy when this year is over.”

“And then what are you going to do?”

My stomach drops. Here we go. Time to explain that the one person who believed in me no matter what is gone, and my family hate me for how directionless my life is. That they’re currently satisfied with vague assertions of doing an Honours or Masters degree, but they will love it when my dreams fail me and I work for them. Oh, and my mum’s dead.

“I want to write a book. I am writing a book.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. I shock even myself. She raises an eyebrow in question.

“About what?”

“My mum.” Jesus Christ Oliver! What are you doing? You can’t trauma dump on this poor girl. “She…uhm… died when I was young. She was a photojournalist. I want to create a book with all her photos. She’s kept a diary all her life, so I wanted to use that too.”

Although this is something I rarely share with others, Eden appears unphased, giving me a supportive smile. “That sounds like the kind of book I would read. One with mostly pictures,” she laughs. And the pressure in my chest eases ever so slightly. When the ramen comes, we eat in a comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional questions about one another.

I learn that she’s the oldest of five and the first one to go to university. That she grew up on a farm, and she misses it every day. That—with her passion and drive—she is going to smash anything she sets her mind to. She learns that my family situation is a bit complicated. That I’ve escaped into books from the moment I could read. That I can’t keep up with Ben when he makes us go for a jog. At least that admission makes her laugh.

By the time we are done, the person known as Eden Miller has come into sharper focus. Like I’ve adjusted the lens of a camera, and I’m only seeing her clearly now.

And I think I’m falling for her.

* * *

Eden Miller:

Hey! Gemma and I are bored— do you want to go get dinner at that ramen place again?

I almost drop my phone. No. I almost throw my phone across the room. Is she asking me out on a date? No. She’s bringing a friend. Don’t be ridiculous. Take a deep breath.

“What has she done now?” Ben asks, amusement lining his features. This is our second study session of the week, and the second study session of the week where most of the conversation revolves around a girl. Not just any girl. Eden.

“She’s invited us out for food,” I managed to croak out as heat creeps up my neck. Ben looks like he just won the lottery.

“Oh man! I just don’t know how you do it! She hates you one minute, and then she’s asking you out on a date the next!”

“It’s not a date! Her friend is coming,” I half-heartedly argue. Though I wish it was. I type out a response to Eden, ignoring Ben’s prying eyes.

Oliver James:

Sure! Can my friend Ben come?

When Eden texts back confirmation, I turn to Ben. “You can come if you want.”

“Where are we going?”

“It’s this ramen place Eden and I…” I haven’t told Ben that we went out for food together. I don’t have to tell him everything, right? From the way his eyes bug out of his head, I think I do.

“You two got food together? You went on a date and didn’t tell me!” He exclaims, and I cringe when other people in the library look over to us.