Chapter 14 – Haley
The next morning, I go to the cafeteria with Melissa to get breakfast. We eat in our new favorite spot overlooking the flower garden so we can watch the birds and little critters. After we’re done eating, Melissa goes to the gym to work out, and I head back to the dorm.
On my way back to the room, I stop to check my mailbox. Besides the usual junk mail, there’s a small folded piece of notebook paper in there with my name on it.
I unfold it and read the words written in all caps.
I CAN’T STOP THINKING ABOUT YOU
Below the words are a sad face emoji and a heart.
A chill crawls down my spine as I read those words over again. Who sent this? And why to me? I rip the note into pieces and toss them in the trash.
I hurry upstairs to my room, and since I’m too freaked out to do anything else, I read Jane Eyre.
Mr. Rochester is a good distraction.
Philip gets called into work on a new assignment, so we can’t make plans to see each other today. We do manage to fit in a couple of phone calls and lots of texts, but it’s not the same as being together in person.
* * *
I spend the afternoon doing homework and working on a paper for my political science class. Mom and Dave come later that day to take me out to dinner. We go back to that sweet little Italian restaurant, Mama Bella’s, on Lafayette Street.
When I return from dinner, I find a note has been slipped under my door again, with my name on it.
WHY HAVE YOU BEEN HIDING ALL DAY?
I MISS SEEING YOUR FACE.
Below the words, someone drew a broken heart emoji.
Other than going to the bathroom, I don’t leave my room for the rest of the evening.
I’ve never been so freaked out in my life.
* * *
Monday morning, chemistry class is uneventful, and then I’m off to history.
Layla seems in good spirits this morning. After class, we go to the cafeteria to have lunch together, and as usual, Jason sits two tables away from us to give us girl time.
When I tell Layla and Jasmine about Philip rescuing a boy at the beach, they’re shocked.
“Oh, my God!” Layla cries. “He could have died, Haley.”
“I know.” I take a sip of my soft drink. “When Philip dove into the water and took forever to come back up, I had a legit panic attack. And then he towed that poor kid to the beach and gave him CPR, by himself, until others jumped in to assist.”
“And he’s all right?” Jasmine asks. “The kid, I mean. Obviously Philip is all right.”
“As far as we know, yes. He was conscious when the paramedics arrived and checked him over before they took him away. Afterward, Philip and I were supposed to eat at a restaurant on the Riverwalk, but I was too shaken up after that awful ordeal, so instead we went back to his apartment to chill.”
Layla grasps my forearm. “Why didn’t you tell us you were in the building? We were home. We could’ve come right over.”
I shake my head. “I was a basket case and not fit for company. We ended up taking a nap, followed by a shower.”
“A shower?” Layla asks. “As in singular? Just one?”
My expression must give me away, because they both let out a squeal.
“Tell us about the shower,” Jasmine says. “Was it functional or recreational?”
“Well.” I can already feel my face heating up. “It started out as functional, but then it became recreational.”
They’re both pretending to be scandalized, so I don’t give them the details. I certainly don’t tell them I gave Philip a hand job in the shower or that he went down on me afterward. But remembering those events sure puts a smile on my face, which is not lost on my friends.
“I knew it!” Jasmine says. “Spill the tea, girl! Please tell me you used the super gigantic extra-large condoms I saw in your nightstand!”
Laughing, I shake my head. “My lips are sealed.”
Of course, they’re assuming we had sex, when we didn’t. But it wasn’t for lack of trying on my part. I was more than ready to take that step, but Philip wasn’t.
The girls continue teasing me, and I notice Jason has a smile on his face. No doubt he can hear at least part of our conversation.
Talk eventually moves on from whatever shenanigans Philip and I got up to on Saturday to Jasmine’s new certification in Taekwondo to Layla debating what to wear at her wedding.
“We should all go dress shopping,” Jasmine says. “We’ll help you pick something out.”
“Would you?” Layla asks. “I’d really appreciate it. My mom would want to come, too. And maybe my brother, Ian. He has a much better fashion sense than I do. Look at me—I live in jeans and hoodies.”
“No matter what you choose,” I tell her, “you’re going to be the prettiest bride ever.”
A guy walks up to our table and sits down. “You’re Layla Alexander,” he says to Layla. “I’m in your history class. I just wanted to say hi.” He holds out his hand to her. “Name’s Tom Walford.”
Layla stares at his hand but doesn’t make any move to shake it.
“She’s not interested, pal,” Jasmine says as she pops a fry in her mouth. “Get lost.”
“I’m not talking to you,” the guy says to Jasmine. Then he turns his attention back to Layla, only this time, he finds Jason standing behind her, his hands on Layla’s shoulders.
“Leave,” Jason says. “Now.”
“I’m not talking to you either,” the guy says to Jason. Then to Layla, he says, “What’s the big deal? I just wanted to be polite and say hi. Call off your attack dogs.”
Jasmine and I both snicker. Tom just poked the bear.
Jason moves fast. A moment later, he’s standing behind Tom’s chair, and he has one of Tom’s arms wrenched back and pinned behind him. Very calmly, he says, “Unless you want me to break your arm, get up and walk away.”
Tom’s face screws up in pain, but he doesn’t utter a sound. Instead, he pushes his chair back and stands. Jason releases his arm, and Tom walks away without a backward glance.
“Are you okay?” Jason asks Layla as he takes the seat Tom just vacated.
She nods but doesn’t say anything.
Jason reaches for Layla’s hand. “I think we’d better call it a day, okay?”
“Okay,” she replies.
We say our goodbyes. Everyone hugs, including Jason, and we all go our separate ways.
I have an hour to kill before my chem lab, so I decide to drop off my history and chem lecture textbooks to lighten my load. When I reach my floor, I stop in the mailroom to check my cubby.
It’s jammed packed with junk mail as usual. Today, I have two different credit card applications. This time there’s an invitation to sign up for life insurance. Hello! I’m only eighteen. I hardly need life insurance yet, right?
I pull out the rest of the items in my cubby and see something unexpected underneath it all—a single red rose.
My first thought is Philip put it there, but I realize that’s impossible. He hasn’t been here since Saturday.
I reach for it and end up pricking my finger on a thorn as I pull it out. “Ouch!”
I peek into some of the other cubbies to see if anyone else got a rose, but I don’t see any other than mine.
On my way out of the mailroom, I drop the rose into the trash can. My finger stings, and as I walk upstairs to drop off my textbooks, I suck the drop of blood off my index finger.
When I reach my room, I take out my little first aid kit—thanks, Mom. I wash my fingertip, put on some antibiotic ointment, and wrap it in a bandage to keep it clean.
I stay in my room a while, sitting at my desk and staring out the window at the campus green space. My fingertip is throbbing, and the pain is proof that I didn’t imagine that rose in my mailbox.
Soon it’s time to head to my chem lab class. When I exit the building, I hear someone call my name. I turn and see Andrea and Christian jogging my way.
“Haley!” Andrea is a bit out of breath. “Are you heading to class? We’ll walk with you.”
“That would be great.” I mean it. I’d feel better walking with a couple of friendly faces. Andrea and Christian are two of only a handful of people on campus I know by name.
Andrea and I walk together, and Christian brings up the rear. He’s watching videos on his phone, and it’ll be a miracle if he doesn’t trip or run into someone.
I find myself scanning my surroundings as if looking for someone watching me.
“Is everything okay?” Andrea asks.
“Yes. Why?”
“I don’t know. You seem a bit nervous.”
“Sorry. It’s been a rough day.”
We continue across campus, cut through the square, and head to the sciences building. Once we reach our classroom, Andrea and Christian split off and head to their table. I spot Mark Hoffman already seated at our table. I take my seat beside him.
“What’s with the bandage?” he asks as he stares at my finger.
“It’s just a paper cut.”
Class progresses, and other than doing the very minimum, Mark seems to be giving me the cold shoulder again. The guy is hot one minute, then cold the next. But that’s fine with me. He participates in our experiment, but he doesn’t volunteer anything more.
Near the end of class, he mutters under his breath, “Did you have fun Friday night with your boyfriend?”
“What? Yes.”
“You missed Game Night.”
“I told you, I had plans.” I remember seeing Mark that night seated at a table with other students playing cards.
“You should have come. It was a mixer. You know—a chance to meet new people and make friends.”
“I already have enough friends, and I don’t need to meet new people.”
“What did you and—”
Whatever he was about to say is cut off when the instructor shoots a glare his way and says, “No talking, please. You need to pay attention.” She points up at the list of terms projected on the screen. “These will be on your next quiz.”
Class ends shortly after, and Ms. Davis makes some parting remarks about this week’s quiz.
As I’m packing up my things, Mark says, “Want to go grab coffee? My treat.”
Oh, great, now he’s warm again. I’m getting whiplash. And I can’t believe he’d even ask me again when he knows I have a boyfriend. Can’t he take a hint? “I can’t. I have a paper to write.”
“We can study for Wednesday’s quiz.”
“I’m sorry, no.”
He shrugs. “Suit yourself. It’s your loss.”