2
Nick stared. It was strange seeing such open emotions on his face. Shock, surprise… maybe even a little horror.
“I’m kidding,” I said hastily. And I was. Mostly.
“What would … teaching you… include?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. You could give me tips, or show me demonstrations.”
“Demonstrations,” he repeated.
“I was kidding,” I said. “The sleeping thing is my problem, and I know you’re a total stranger, and normally I’d never even bring it up, but since your friend—Tyler—mentioned it. Forget it.”
Nick’s expression had shuttered again, but there was something exploratory in the way his eyes raked over my face.
“That girl really said you were bad?” he murmured.
I glanced away. “Yeah, but…” I tried to muster up some nonchalance. “It doesn’t matter.”
He didn’t look convinced.
“I told her I’d try to get better, but she still ended things. It’s true that we didn’t have an electric connection. The sleeping-together thing was just one of the reasons. She was the first girl I’d ever been on a date with,” I explained. “In high school I was, well…”
“A loser?”
“No.” I frowned at him. “Just not very sociable. Besides…” I gestured at myself because my appearance should’ve spoken for itself. I didn’t think I was ugly, but I was a beanpole, all elbows and knees.
Nick ran his gaze over me. “Okay,” he said after a long moment.
“Okay what?”
“Okay, I’ll teach you. Only because I feel sorry for you.”
“I don’t need your pity,” I said. “Really, you don’t have to—”
“No,” he said firmly. “I will. I don’t have any siblings, but looking at you makes me feel like I’m looking at a little brother.”
“The fact we’re both at a first-year party suggests we’re the same age—”
“A pathetic, clueless little brother,” Nick continued, ignoring me, “but the kind you still want to help.” He strode over to me, holding out his phone.
I stared at it.
“Put your info in it,” he said impatiently.
“Um.” I found myself typing in Hayden Miller and my number, even though I wasn’t certain it was a good idea, especially because he just called me pathetic and clueless
After I was done, he checked the screen, satisfied, then stowed his phone in his pocket. “I’ll get in touch. Later,” he said and walked off.
I watched him disappear into the doorway that led back into the pulsing club and tried to reassure myself with the thought that tomorrow morning, in the sobering daylight, he’d forget all about me.
The following afternoon, I received a text message that read : What’s your address? We’ll do this at your place.
I stared at my phone for a few seconds, not recognising the number.
Hayden: Who is this?
The reply came instantly: Nick .
Oh. So he hadn’t forgotten me.
Hayden: What is it we’re doing at my place?
Nick: Teaching you to be good in bed.
Hayden: Are you sure?
Nick: Obviously. I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t.
Hayden: Ok.
Nick: ????
Hayden: What does ???? mean?
Nick: What’s your address????
“Oh, right,” I said aloud, and despite my better judgement, I sent my address because it was not very likely that Nick was a murderous stalker.
Nick: When works for you? How about Monday at nine?
Nine was pretty late, but he’d be teaching me about sleeping, so I supposed it made sense. My usual bedtime was eleven anyway.
Hayden: Yeah that suits me.
Nick: See you then.
Hayden: Wait!
Nick: What?
Hayden: Do I need to prepare anything?
Nick: Not really. Do whatever you want.
I pushed myself out of my desk chair. I’d been at my laptop, pretending I was studying, but in reality, I’d spent the fifteen minutes before Nick’s text message watching YouTube videos of squirrels completing obstacle courses.
Now, I paused the video and surveyed my room. I needed to clean it, and I hastily gathered up the seven mugs littered on my desk and bedside table. I wiped down the dust on my bookshelf and vacuumed my carpet. Afterwards, I sorted through my bedside table drawers, which contained tissues, a spare phone charger, and some lube and condoms because Sophie and I had had sex a few times. Those were the times when we ended up sleeping together in the same bed and when I annoyed her by rolling around through the night and stealing all the blankets, or whatever it was I’d done.
Sophie was the first person I’d ever had sex with. My love life in high school had been non-existent, and I’d spent my first semester of university adjusting to living away from my parents. During the winter holidays, though, I decided I wanted to put myself out there romantically. To prepare, I read four books about relationships and psychology, listened to seven different podcasts, and read an online blog about how to make an attractive dating app profile.
Once I’d met Sophie in real life, I liked her immediately. She was direct, pretty and studied science, just like me, though she majored in psychology whereas I was majoring in pathology.
I thought that it would be a while until we had sex—that we’d have to be boyfriend and girlfriend first, like in the movies—but Sophie was down to do it surprisingly quickly. Which was great for me.
The sex was… well, it was nice. Of course it was. But honestly, I preferred masturbating. It was way more relaxing. Every time I had sex with Sophie, I spent the entire time focusing on not finishing too quickly and then feeling mortified when I did finish too quickly.
Everything else was nice, though. Cuddling, talking, studying together.
Anyway, I was determined not to blow it with the next girl I dated. Anything could be learned with a bit of effort, and there was nothing stopping me from becoming the perfect boyfriend.
On Monday morning, I sat in a huge lecture theatre, listening to a professor talk about homeostasis. Usually, I found the lectures riveting, but right then, I could barely pay attention.
As soon as I’d gotten out of bed that morning, I bundled up my bedding and sheets so I could wash and dry them before Nick arrived. I’d vacuumed the carpet again, then spritzed some body spray to try and make my room smell nice. Unfortunately, I quickly realised the smell was overpowering, like standing in the cologne aisle of a department store, so I opened the window and blasted the air-con.
Elena must’ve heard me running around like a headless chicken because she’d stuck her head in my room. “What’s up with you?” she’d asked.
“Nothing,” I’d squeaked.
She’d narrowed her eyes at me. “All right,” she said, then glanced at the clock that hung above my desk. “Don’t you have a lecture soon?”
Which is how I ended up running to campus without brushing my hair or tying my shoelaces. I was nineteen. You would’ve thought I’d have my shit together by now.
“That’s all for today, folks,” the professor said from the front of the room. “In your tutorials, you will discuss the readings and slides, and next week, we’ll start exploring vascular disease.”
I blinked. The lecture was over already? Damn it. I’d taken nothing in.
With a sigh, I stood up, pulled on my backpack, and followed the crowd of fellow science students out of the lecture hall. Like many of the buildings at Lygon U, the inside of the building was navy carpet and sleek black furniture, but outside, it was old-fashioned stone and arched windows.
It was a nice day, I thought, as I headed towards the science library to do some revision. Dappled sunlight filtered through the overarching oak tree leaves and turned the brick paths a golden-rust colour.
Once I arrived at the library, I started going through the lecture slides to re-learn what I had missed while daydreaming in the lecture. I tried not to think about Nick coming over.
I don’t know why I was so nervous. I had friends come over before. But Nick wasn’t exactly a friend.
He was a stranger.
A handsome, somewhat mean, somewhat intimidating stranger.
We definitely wouldn’t have been friends back in high school.
My afternoon was filled with tutorials and workshops, and when I returned to my apartment, I busied myself with silly tasks like tossing out the recycling or organising the fridge.
Then, before I knew it, it was nine o’clock, and my phone chimed with a message.
Nick: Here.