8. chapter eight
chapter eight
coffee doodles make my day
“ I knew it! I knew you’d never voluntarily buy something black.”
As much as I love the Pin’s apple pie that’s sitting on the plate infront of me, I was in two minds about whether to throw it at Cora, beyond over the fact that she would not shut up about the Tristan situation.
“Right, whatever, it’s not a big deal,” I exclaim, throwing my handsup in defeat. “Now can I just eat my breakfast in peace?”
Cora sticks her tongue out at me while I shove a forkful of applepie straight into my mouth.
This was the second morning in a row we’d been to Pin’s before our9:00 AM classes, and while my bank account could see disaster ahead if we kept up this tradition, I could see myself getting used to them. Even though Cora and Rory’s room was on the floor above mine and Daisy’s, and we could easily have this catch-up in either of our rooms, I liked being here.
Being surrounded by people who wore scowls just as well as theirsuits, groups of girls in the cutest yoga outfits, and the occasional elderly couple who held hands the entire time they were in there, I felt normal. I felt a part of something normal. So if the sacrifice for normality was a few dollars every morning on a slice of pie and a coffee, I was willing to make it.
All I had to do was ignore the pestering from the girls aboutTristan and everything would be fine—
“What did he even say to you? Like, was it just a casual ‘here, havemy T-shirt’ or was it… sexier than that?” Daisy asks before taking a sip of her latte, shimmying her curls from her face as she cupped her hands around her coffee.
My head lazily tipped in her direction, my eye roll charting itscourse until they landed on her.
“What?” She looked around at the others. “I’m just curious.”
“She raises a good point, actually.” Rory chimed in as she slid backinto the booth.
“Everything okay?” I asked her, scooching up towards the window.
She slipped her phone back into her bag as she nodded, her long curls rustling as she did. “Oh, it’s fine. My Dad just wanted to check in with me before his appointment.” She squeezed her eyes closed as she shook her head. “Yeah, yeah… it’s fine. It’ll be fine.” Her smile broke free. “What were we talking about?” She asked, before claiming my iced coffee and finishing the doodles to the lid that she’d done with Daisy, and Cora’s.
She loved doing this. Sometimes it was a little inspirationalmessage, other times it was a small drawing of some kind. But regardless, it made me smile every time I looked at it throughout the day.
Today was a city skyline and a sunrise. An ode to last night, I think.
Shifting my attention back to the quietness of the table, Daisy,Cora and I all eye each other before we unconsciously agree to not pry. Not when Rory already liked to keep what was happening with her Dad to herself.
So Daisy cleared her throat. “Tristan,”
“Ooh, that one.” Some truth shone in her smile. “He certainly doesadd one more person to our ‘England has produced plenty of attractive men’ argument.”
“I wonder why he’s even here? I didn’t think to ask last night.” Corainterjected.
I wrapped my hands around my cup as Rory slid it back to me. “Or,we could wrap this little interrogation up and, oh, I don’t know, go to class?”
Cora knocked her head to the side, her eyes falling on me.“Spoilsport.”
I sucked in a breath before I raised my head again. “Sorry, myhead’s just a mess at the moment.”
“Hey, it’s okay. I think I’m still overwhelmed being here.” Daisysaid, stretching her arm over me and tugging my head onto her shoulder.
It wasn’t a lie, about my mind being a complete mess, but the truthdidn’t fully slip through the cracks in my voice.
New York wasn’t why I was in my head, nor was the thought of beingat Liberty. From the classes I’d attended yesterday, those excited butterflies only doubled, confirming in my head that I was right to trust my gut about this place.
No, what was troubling me was everything else that had happened,mainly thanks to the brown-haired Englishman with an accent that made me breathless, who I couldn’t seem to get out of my head. And for someone who barely had time to breathe growing up, barely had time to focus on her studies, the fact that my heart and the way it thumped when he was around or in my head were suddenly all I could focus on… it scared me.
I watched as Cora’s eyes roamed the ceiling, pondering something,before her attention fell back onto me. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked, her hand stretching out to brush mine.
I considered saying no, confessing that Tristan was the only shadowlooming in my mind right now and finally dropping my guard and not keeping my feelings locked away anymore. But my eyes fell back onto my watch before my lips pried open, realising that if I did, we’d be late for class again.
So I pulled my smile tight and nodded back at her.
She sent a wink my way, before her eyes fell onto my watch, herhand pulling mine, and me, further over the table and she inspected it. “Right, let's be off.” She began to slide out of her side of the booth. “And on the way we can talk about the other pressing matter.”
“Which is?” I asked, sliding out of my seat and joining her.
Cora shrugged, like I should already know whatever was about tofall out of her mouth. “The fact that her brother was eye-fucking this one all night?” Her thumb hiked over her shoulder, pointing to Rory as she stood by us.
Daisy’s face contorted as she slid out of the booth. “Ew, nevermention my brother and eye-fucking in the same sentence ever again.” Her nervous smile made me smile as we all shuffled over to the exit. “But she does have a point. Do you want me to throw my guitar at him when I see him?”
Rory playfully shook her head as she pulled open the door for us. “No, no, it’s fine. He’s really cute, that’s for sure. But I wanna let myself settle before the whole minefield of boys is something I have to worry about.”
I nodded at Rory as I glided out of the door, thankful that therewas someone who understood where I was coming from. Like me, Aurora Greene was here, at Liberty Grove, to prove herself. She confessed that all she wanted to do was make her dad proud, and attending the university that he attended, studying the same law degree that he once had, was her way of doing that.
I hadn’t pried, although the questions swirling in my head were sointense that I was sure I was about to blurt them all out anyway. She’d mentioned that her mom passed away right before her freshman year of high school, and part of me recognised the way that she was trying to bring any sort of joy back into her dad's life by being here.
Whether she wanted it or not.
Cora’s scoff broke through my thoughts as we gathered on thesidewalk and began our speed walk to the station. “I’m sorry, did you both sign some secret agreement to become nuns the second you got here?” I rolled my eyes at her. “No, seriously. I came here because, although we can drink at university back home, I wanted the fun, and the dare of this city that I’d heard so much about. I’m not saying that we have to get fake IDs and get illegally plastered every night, but I want these next four years to be fun. I want to look back and remember that we had fun, while we could.”
Rory sighed, repositioning her bag on her shoulder. “Of course wecan have fun. It’s just that hooking up with strangers isn’t at the top of my to-do list right now. And with the amount of reading I have to do for my criminal law classes, I couldn’t make out with strangers even if I wanted to.”
“Me too.” Daisy nodded. “I had no idea how much work goes into amusic major. Turns out it’s a lot.”
Cora shook her head. “Am I the only one who’s got it easy? My artclasses have been sick.” We all looked at her puzzled. “Sorry.” She cleared her throat. “My art classes have been, like, a total blast.”
We all cackled at the plastic American accent that veiled her words.
All four of us glanced at each other, knowing that on some level, Cora was right. This was college. This was the time to have fun.
“Okay.” I stopped in my tracks and turned around to face all threeof them.
Rory giggled before she nudged me. “Hey, we're gonna be late—”
“We make a pact.” I eye each of them. “A promise that these nextfour years will be fun. I know we’ve all come from different pasts and had a lot going on before we got here, but let’s focus on now.” My eyes dropped to the sidewalk and I mumbled, “I didn’t really have a life before coming here, and Cora’s right, we owe ourselves… fun.” I lifted my head back to face them as the last word left my mouth. “Agreed?”
Cora nodded. “Fuck yeah.”
“I’m in.” Breathed Daisy.
Right before all our eyes rounded to Rory, who shrugged hopelesslybefore she said, “Screw it, let’s do it.”
I raise my pinky finger in the middle of us, and one by one myfriends all wrap theirs around mine. We all let out a girly giggle when we shake our pinkies, before letting them fall back down our sides.
“Shit!” Cora exclaimed, earning back of of our stairs. “It’s quarterto nine.”
All of our eyes widened as we exchanged glances, and one by onebolted into a run, the slips of the sidewalk passing under our feet like a montage as we rounded the corner and squeezed our way through the crowds.
“Jamie called me to say that he’ll be here by next Monday, whichmeans only eight more days of running for the subway.”
“I hate running,” Daisy says, catching her breath. “And for somereason, all my lyric ideas like to pop into my head while I’m running. Do you know how hard it is to write and run?”
We all laugh as we reach the stairs, although, for some reason, minefeel forced.
I fell silent on the journey to campus, listening on the outskirts ofthe conversation, and for the life of me, I couldn’t understand what had soured my mood.
Liar. You know the reason.
Maybe deep down, if I wanted to travel that far within myself, Icould see the reason clear as day. But right now I didn’t want to, I knew well enough that whatever it was that was keeping me from fully wanting to commit to that pact was in the shape of a question mark, and whatever it was, was calling me clueless in every language I could understand.
Unlike yesterday, I made it to class with more than a minute tospare.Meaning I had time to truly imagine what my portrait would look like on the wall of valedictorians who came before me.
And because I wasn’t running too late, there were seats free that weren’tdirectly in the front row. I claimed a seat on the sixth or seventh row from the front, whipped out my laptop and water bottle, and before I knew it, Professor Etoille was striding into the room, a different-coloured tweed jacket from yesterday thrown over his shoulder and a leather briefcase in hand.
“Alright, guys. How did we do with the reading after yesterday?” Headdressed the room, an affirmative mumble echoing around the room. “Wow, one class into the semester and the enthusiasm is already gone? I should really spice things up for you kids.” That earned him a laugh. “What about if I play some of the music you like before class? Would that put you in a better mood?” He asked with a sweet grin on his face.
Again, a laugh filtered throughout the room.
“I’m sure it’s no secret to you guys, but studies show that whenmusic is played in a place of learning, students’ lymbic systems light up like a light bulb. It switches on the hippocampus, which is the part of your brain that plays a critical role in learning, and memory.”
I feel a twitch in my fingertips, and within seconds, my hand israised.
Etiolle’s eyes find me. “Yes, Marigold?”
I drop my hand as I ask, “What’s the psychology behind that?”
His shoulders roll with a shrug as he shuffles the papers he tookfrom his briefcase. “I suppose studies have shown that because music brings most people more joy than studying, that added element of familiarity and fun makes the task at hand seem like fun too. It’s more like tricking your brain into thinking it isn’t wired the way that it is.”
“What makes us do that though?” I ask.
Etoille shrugs, his smile deepening the wrinkles on his face. “Isuppose, Marigold, it’s because we as humans desire fun over everything else. Having fun is what keeps us motivated. It maintains balance.”
Fun. Of course, it boiled down to fun.
I shook my head, the question piling up on the tip of my tongue. “Butwhat if a person doesn’t know how—”
The creaking of the door halted my words, and when Tristanemerged from behind the tanned wood, I felt my heart stop.
Why did he have to be so handsome? Just… why?
I watch as every head twists towards him, naturally, before Etoille’s attention falls onto him too.
“Answer me this, Mr Harper. Is the reason you’re laterelated to anything fun?”
Tristan shrugged, slowly blinking. “If you count getting lost on the subway as fun, then sure, I was having fun.”
Etoille knocked his head towards Tristan, while his eyes fell back onme. “See, Miss Moore, it’s all about the fun.”
Yeah, I get it, dude.
“I’ll let you off this once, Mr. Harper, seeing as though you are fromacross the pond, so long as this doesn’t happen again.”
Tristan sends a half-assed salute and a tight smile Etoille’s way,before looking around and finding that the only empty seats are in the front row. I watch him laugh to himself when he spies them, but as he’s walking, his eyes somehow find me in the crowd, and because he’s a funny thing to figure out and wants me to be distracted for the rest of this class, just like yesterday, he locks eyes with me as a smile possesses his mouth.
I roll my eyes at him as he takes his seat, but once they settle, theystill seem to gravitate back to him.
“Was that all the questions you had, Marigold?”Etiolle asked, and I looked right at him.
I wanted to ask him what it meant if a person didn’t know how to havefun.
I wanted to ask him what it meant now that my heart felt like it wasrising after looking at someone for a single second.
I wanted to ask him whether not addressing everything I was overthinking meant that I justhad even more deep-rooted issues that only a licensed professional should hear about.
“Yes, thank you.” Was all I said back to him, before he gave me asmile and started with his lecture.
By the end of the two-hour class, I had three full pages of notestyped up on my laptop, detailing the historical development of modern psychology. I was enthralled by the way that Etoille taught his classes, and the way he gave us the information we needed.
Like the other moments since I’d arrived, a quiet sense of reliefwashed over me. I thought back to the day I finally told my parents, the words tumbling out—how much I wanted this, to feel the spark in a classroom, to be captivated by a professor’s teaching style. It wasn’t just learning anymore; it was the start of something I knew deep down I was meant to do.
“Well folks, I think that’s enough for today. But before you go, theuniversity wants us professors to really get our students prepared for these next four years with us, and something that will undoubtedly crop up too many times for you is group projects. So that’s what I wanted to put forward to you before you left.”
As though everyone in the room had the same idea, we all lookedaround at each other, just a group of strangers who barely knew our way our campus, let alone each other.
“But don’t worry, I’m not that mean. I thought I’d start you off witha paired assignment, a shared presentation about any branch of psychological study you wish to present.”
My heartbeat was only getting faster the longer Etoille talked.
“And this isn’t just some icebreaker to get you guys to socialise;whatever you decide to do your presentation on will be the subject of the case study that’s due before Christmas break. It’ll count towards half your grade for the year. The deadline is in three weeks.” Etiolle began to pack away his papers, before plucking a single piece from his collection.
“I’ll leave the pairing sheet on my desk for you to check on the wayout. But that’s it for today, see you on Friday.”
The class starts to filter out, and as I look up from my seat there’s already a crowd of people circled around the sheet of names. And a gaggle of girls who seemed to confuse Tristan for that sheet.
I shook my head and packed up, hopping down the steps toward thefront of the room. A silent prayer escaped my lips to the God of group projects, hoping I wasn’t paired with the one person who could distract me with just a glance. Tristan would be the worst-case scenario. Not only was he late to class, but from our rooftop conversation last night, it was clear he wasn’t exactly thrilled to be here.
I could already see this presentation being written and presentedby me, and only me.
I finally merged through my classmates, as I let my finger trace the list of names, finally reaching my name anddarting my eyes to see who I’d been paired with.
I almost released a sigh of pure relief when I saw a name I didn’trecognise, belonging to Henry Sommerford.
.