Chapter 8 Spellbound
SPELLBOUND
The last two weeks of term slipped by in a wintry blur as an Arctic gale howled across campus, stripping the last brittle leaves from the trees. Through the grey filter of my mood, everything looked dull and desolate.
Rather than confront Francesca about the unreasonable volume of her stereo, I invested in a Walkman from the record store.
I buried myself in coursework and did my best to distance myself from Francesca and Jeremy.
When I needed to leave my room, I’d put my ear to the wall first to make sure Francesca was out.
I ignored the invitations and small taps at my door, or else I called back and declined with excuses about stomach bugs or deadlines.
Then, I’d watch from my window as Jeremy and Francesca walked across the square together, arm in arm, pressed in close to one another for warmth.
I watched her throwing her head back, laughing at one of his jokes, and how he inclined his head towards hers, their breath misting as one in the cold air.
I thought she liked me.
My imagination ran wild with everything they were doing alone together. Had Francesca kissed Jeremy on the other side of the wall to where I slept and dreamed of her?
I imagined her pushing him back and straddling his lap.
Or was it Jeremy who’d taken the lead? I swallowed the lump in my throat as I thought about his rough hands running up her soft thighs.
Had she let him touch her where I’d been longing to touch her?
I couldn’t bear the thought, and, at the same time, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
My stomach knotted as I imagined the two of them laughing about how pathetic I was — a love-struck loser.
By the last day of term, I’d dodged Francesca for almost a fortnight, yet her presence still invaded my senses.
Her pulsing music haunted me. Her fruity scent lingered in the hallway.
Sometimes I swore I could feel her heat emanating through the flimsy wall between us; I loathed myself for wanting to press my body against it just to feel closer to her.
Despite the December drizzle, the campus buzzed with end-of-semester excitement.
Assignments were in, lectures were finished for the year, and people were getting ready to head home for the Christmas break.
The collective mood lifted my spirits. I even surprised myself by smiling at the pucker-faced librarian when I checked out the books I needed to get a head start on next term’s reading list.
My smile fell as I stepped outside and Jeremy called my name. Shit.
He panted like he’d jogged to catch up to me.
“Hey.” I clutched my library books to my chest.
“We haven’t seen you for ages…”
We. That tiny word slammed into me, and I redirected my gaze to my boots.
“I’ve just sorted out our train tickets for tomorrow,” he said. “Sorry, it’s an early one, we’ll need to get going by 9 a.m. Shall we get a taxi to the station, save lugging all our stuff up the hill?”
My mind was still stuck on We. I couldn’t look at him again, so I just nodded.
“Great. Well, that’s that then.” Jeremy shuffled his feet. “I’m just heading to the union. It’s the end of term, which means half-price Purple until the bar’s dry! Why don’t you join us?”
Us! I winced. “Sorry, I have to go.” With my head down, I charged past him, ignoring the concern in his voice as he called out, “Are you alright, Trusty?”
He followed up with something about Francesca, but thankfully I didn’t catch it as I sped away from him.
So, they’re officially a ‘we’ and an ‘us’. I already felt foolish enough about my misdirected feelings for Francesca, I didn’t need Jeremy seasoning the wound. Of course it was him she was interested in and not me. Why am I so stupid?
After the train journey, I could go back to avoiding him again.
The sprawling grounds of his family home were easy enough to get lost in.
For as long as my dad had worked for the Daltons, he and I had spent quiet, cosy Christmases together in our little cottage, enjoying the ease of each other’s company.
The only social obligation we had every year was the Daltons’ Boxing Day buffet.
I imagined this year would be no exception unless I could dream up a good enough excuse.
I’d have a month to get over my silly unrequited crush, because that’s all it had been, hadn’t it? Once I’d had time to recalibrate, I’d smooth things over with Jeremy and we could get back to how we were.
Back in my room, I packed the small stack of books I was bringing home into my rucksack, folded my clothes into a neat pile and pulled my suitcase out from under the bed.
Then I sat for a moment, hugging my mum’s blanket like it was her.
I wasn’t very good at confronting my problems. I recalled the way people had tried to get me to talk after my mum had died.
But my grief was just that — mine. So I swallowed it down.
The irony of studying psychology hadn’t escaped me — I was figuring out the keys to unlock others, whilst learning how to bolt myself more firmly shut.
I imagined speaking to my mum about my feelings for Francesca.
I was sure she’d have understood and helped me make sense of it all, but I wasn’t ready to come out to the hostile world, at least not for a girl who didn’t even want me.
With my suitcase packed, I clicked Play on my Walkman, gathered up my dirty dishes and shuffled to the kitchenette in my bunny slippers. I hummed along to Enya as I plunged my hands into a bowl of soapy water.
A pair of arms wrapped around my waist. I caught the sweet scent of her and froze.
Francesca buried her face in my hair and inhaled.
I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. “What are you doing?”
“I’m hugging you.”
“Why?”
She answered by squeezing tighter. I squirmed around in her arms, hands dripping as I reached for a tea towel.
“Francesca, I don’t know what you’re playing at, but—”
“Shh!” she said so close to my face I could smell the Purple on her hot breath.
“You’re drunk.”
“No, you are.” She giggled and pressed herself against me, pinning me to the sink. Her lips and tongue were stained deep red. My God, I want to kiss her.
“Let me get you some water.”
She dropped her arms from my waist and stepped back. “What’s your problem?”
“Nothing, I just… I’m just trying to…”
I dried the glass I’d washed and filled it with cold water. She took it from me and gulped a mouthful, all the while glaring at me through makeup-smudged eyes, like the first time I’d met her.
“Why haven’t you ever kissed me?”
My chest lurched. “What?”
“You do want to kiss me, right?”
I had to tear my eyes away from the droplets of water glistening on her top lip.
“I… what about Jeremy? Aren’t you two dating?”
“Noooooooo.” She drew out the word until her lips settled into a cocky grin.
“But…”
“But, what?” she hiccupped. “You’ve been the one acting all aloof.”
“Yeah, because… I thought…” I frowned, staring down at the sticky linoleum as I tried to figure out what I’d thought because now it all seemed so hazy.
What I had seen was Jeremy exiting Francesca’s room looking smug and shifty, that was all… and then I’d avoided spending time with the two of them. I really had leapt to something, hadn’t I?
With my psychology hat on, I considered that maybe I was looking for an excuse not to deal with my feelings for her. Perhaps believing Francesca was with Jeremy was easier than confronting my sexuality; it was easier than coming out.
When I looked up at her again, her dark eyes were boring into me.
“I… er…” I squeezed the back of my neck and blurted, “I think I’m a lesbian.”
Francesca snorted a laugh, and I bowed my head, feeling ridiculous for having said what now seemed so obvious. But then she stepped into my space, her voice a husky whisper as she said, “If you’re not going to do it, then I will.”
Next thing, her lips were on mine, and her tongue slipped into my mouth in a frantic, hot, wet kiss that tasted of cider and faintly of cigarettes.
Neither of those were things I particularly enjoyed, but now I would savour them, because they tasted like her.
We backed into the countertop, and I banged my head on a cupboard.
“Shit!” I rubbed the spot, and we erupted into giggles.
A clatter came from down the hallway, followed by a burst of rowdy voices.
Francesca bit her bottom lip. “Shall we go to my room?”
The heat in my already-flushed cheeks intensified, and I gulped, envious of her confidence, but still hungry for more.
“I should, er… finish my dishes.”
Francesca tugged the sleeve of my sweatshirt and breathed into my ear. “How about you join me when you’re done?” She flashed me a wicked grin. “You should lose the bunnies first, though.”
As she drifted away, I glanced down at my pink slippers. Fuck! I’d forgotten I was wearing them.
I finished my dishes at the speed of light, uncharacteristically leaving them draining on the board.
My body thrummed as I returned to my room to shed my slippers and run a comb through my hair.
I exhaled a shaky breath, feeling like nothing more than a jittery bag of nerve-endings. Is this really happening?
I knocked before pushing into the room and closing the door softly behind me.
Amidst the mess of discarded clothes and dirty cups, Francesca had lit a handful of tea light candles.
Soft music played from her stereo — a woman’s voice singing a haunting song I hadn’t heard before.
Francesca lay on her bed with her hands behind her head.
She rolled onto her side and patted the space beside her.
I swallowed hard as I stepped toward the bed.
Her face was the plainest I’d ever seen it; she’d scrubbed the make-up from her eyes and tied her hair back.
She looked so unbelievably beautiful I had to stop myself from rubbing my eyes to check she was real.
“You’re nervous,” she said as I settled next to her.