Chapter 5
Noah
“Hot chocolate? Are you five?” Who on earth still drinks hot chocolate at our age?
Luca looks at me defiantly. “How lucky you are that someone made you hot chocolate when you were five. I didn’t get that lucky until I was twelve.”
Lucky? What a joke. No one ever did anything good for me.
Maybe things would’ve been different if I’d lived up to my father’s expectations.
As the only son, he wanted the future head of the family to be someone who was tall and strong, loud and wild, a leader.
A real boy. And then I came along. Small and slight, with my mother’s red hair and freckles.
My head was always buried in books. Not because I had to, but because I loved to study and immerse myself in stories.
From then on, my parents never really cared about me. I was supposed to be the model child that my father could proudly present to his business partners, and when this plan didn’t work out, I was invisible.
“You know as little about my life as I do about yours. Maybe we should both hold back on the assumptions.”
“Tell me more over a hot chocolate.”
He’s not letting up, is he?
“As a psychologist, you should be able to read between the lines, right?”
“Who says I’m not deliberately ignoring what’s between the lines?” He looks at me with a playful grin, and damn, he’s got charm, I’ll give him that.
He’s not going to wrap me around his finger, though. His toothpaste smile won’t work on me, even if the little snippets he’s shared about his life make me curious.
“Okay, I’ll just say it straight out. I don’t want to have hot chocolate with you today, and I doubt I ever will. You’ve successfully ignored me for a year and a half, and now you’re acting like we’re friends or something.”
“Oh, you know that word, I wasn’t sure. After all, you’re always alone so I thought it was a foreign concept to you.”
That hit home, and Luca knows it, because he looks at me in shock. “Yeah, you really just said that. And no, you can’t take it back.”
“Wait, I didn‘t…”
I’m already walking in the other direction, but I turn around one more time.
“Yes, you did mean it, exactly like that. You might not have wanted to say it out loud, but you thought it. I can reassure you though, you’re in good company.
Everyone here thinks that way. Just do me a favor and leave me alone. I don’t need your pity.”
***
I’m sitting on my favorite bench at the very edge of campus, reading a diagnostics book, when suddenly someone stops in front of me. Someone tall, because the person is blocking all the light.
“Hey, um, this is for you. Unfortunately, they don’t have cream here. See you in class.” Luca presses a steaming cup into my hand.
“Did you spit in it?”
He quickly turns away, as if he doesn’t want me to see the small smile lifting the corners of his mouth. After taking a deep breath he looks at me again. The sparkle in his eyes is unmistakable.
“Who knows? Sometimes you have to take a risk if you want something good.”
***
For quite a while, I stare at the hot drink in my hands. I would’ve loved to reply, but nothing witty came to mind at that moment.
Besides, I think he actually meant it… to just be nice. There was no spiteful smirk around his mouth, no arrogant smile, no act. But why? No one else here is ever nice to me. Why is he doing this?
I take a cautious sip from the plastic cup, one of those reusable ones. I know they come in different colors, and Luca chose one decorated in a mix of light and dark blue. I like blue. A lot, actually, and the hot chocolate tastes good.
The last time I had some was on a ski vacation. I was eight, and I had a nanny who meant well by me. She had to leave after a year because Father thought she was too soft on me. I missed her for a long time.
Lost in thought, I drink and forget everything around me.
I think of snow, the icicles I broke off the gutters, and how the other children laughed as they had a snowball fight on the field in front of the hotel.
I wasn’t allowed to join in. Maman was afraid my glasses would break, and without them I wouldn’t have been able to see anything.
That would’ve been too dangerous. Instead, I made snow angels.
They were beautiful too, at least in my eyes. Father stomped them flat.
I flinch when my phone vibrates. Nobody’s texting or calling me—it’s just my alarm, reminding me to go to class. The cup in my hand is empty, and I didn’t even realize I’d finished it.
Fifteen minutes later, I walk into the auditorium. There’s no better place to get lost in the crowd and my favorite seat is usually free if I get there on time.
Today, my seat is free too, though the seat next to it is taken. I recognize Luca’s wild curls from a distance. I wish I could simply ignore him, but his charisma is irresistible and I hate it.
For a full two seconds, I consider finding another seat, but let’s not kid ourselves, I’m a creature of habit, and Luca would almost certainly follow me.
“Thank you.” Without saying hello, I set the cup down in front of him. He furrows his brows in confusion. “There’s a deposit on it. It’s yours.”
“Keep it for next time.”
“What next time?”
“Next break, or tomorrow, or whenever. Sit down you look like a spare part.” I roll my eyes and he laughs. Doesn’t he realize that I’m always looking like a spare part? That I watch others as they talk and laugh together, wondering what that feels like?
Does he know that at least four people are staring at us right now? I can feel their eyes on my back. Is he ignoring them, or doesn’t he even notice?
To avoid drawing even more attention, I slide into the seat next to him. The auditorium quickly fills up, and I hear whispering all around us. I’m pretty sure it’s just in my head, or Luca wouldn’t be sitting so relaxed next to me, would he?
Our professor walks in and the murmuring dies down. As always, his gaze sweeps over the students. “Ah, Mr. Delfosse, Mr. Martin, I see you’ve managed to settle your differences. I’m really looking forward to seeing your work.”
“We’re doing our best.” Luca’s voice echoes so loudly through the auditorium that even the one person in the last row lifts his head to look at us. Fantastic. And as if that weren’t enough, he puts his arm on the back of my seat. Not around my shoulder—he isn’t touching me—but still.
“Wrong, you’re doing your best at getting on my nerves like crazy,” I hiss in his ear, forcing a fake smile.
“You like me. You just can’t admit it yet. Just wait, once you get to know me, you won’t talk like that anymore.”