Page 12 of How We Began

The way he said my name made my stomach dip. I’ll be eternally grateful I wasn’t holding a knife at that moment.

25th September

Ben waited for me after class and walked me to the library. I may have melted into a puddle of drool and grinned like a buffoon as I dragged myself up the stairs of the library.

26th September

Ben waited for me after class again, standing there leaning against the doorframe looking cooler than should be legal. The hoodie he normally has clutched in his hand was across his glorious body today, (and yes, I know I’ve got some serious perverted and gratuitous issues at the moment, but I’ve seen him in just a towel and it’s not a sight you easily forget). So now I’m thinking what that hoodie would look like just tossed on my bedroom floor. I wasn’t thinking anything to do with Ancient Athens, nor the birth of Civilization. In fact, I don’t think I’ve heard a word of a lecture today. It’s just Ben-static in my ears.

Barbie gave me a glare and I gave an imaginary punch in the air. That’s another thing, I need to find out her real name. Barbie is demeaning and rude… I’ll find it out. I promise.

27th September

Ben waited for me again, handing me a sheet of paper as I approached him.

“What’s this?”

“Notes from class. You didn’t seem to be listening.”

“Thanks,” I replied, a drooling bright-red mess.

He walked me to the library, flashing me a smile as he left me at the door, lighting a cigarette as he went. Ben’s not so keen on the library, yet he knows the answers to most of the questions in class. And without burping or going bright red like me.

(9.00 p.m.)

Earlier, Ben was playing guitar and I had the best idea ever.

I was going to record it. One day he wouldn’t be in the room next to mine and I’d be without my favourite backing track to my life.

Unfortunately, I’m such a technological moron with the tech capacity of a three-year-old holding a Fisher Price plastic phone that plays Twinkle Twinkle, I had to call Mer and ask her how to record on my iPhone. That was then, since then I’ve basically just wanted to die.

“Mer?” I asked.

“Yep.”

“Are you asleep?”

“No. I’m doing this essay, have you done it yet?”

There was an essay??? Fuck!

“Yep, of course I have.”

“Liar with your stalking ways,” she laughed. “What do you want, anyway? And why are you calling, you lazy cow? My room is three steps away.” It’s true. Her room is three steps away. We measured it the day we met and went and got drunk on wine.

“How do you record on your phone?” I asked, attempting to sound innocent and not at all like a stalker… which I am.

Just then a knock landed against my wall. Ben’s wall. My stomach flipped but then my insides wanted to shrivel up and die as he shouted, “Voice memo normally works,” through our adjoining wall.

Fuck, these walls are really thin. I could hear his chuckle.

Kill me now.

“I want to record my notes for class,” I clarified, then sunk down on my bed and pulled the duvet over my head.

Yep, study, study, study.

(9.07 p.m.)