Chapter 8 #2
I do not want to go first. I do not want to go ever.
Public speaking, even in a group this size, sits somewhere between petting snakes and having to go to Target at any time in the week before Christmas on my to-do list, but the others seem unfazed.
The blonde speaks first, Riley from Austin, and she’s halfway through complaining about the complete absence of breakfast burritos in the UK when the heart-stopping sound of the door crashing open against the wood-panelled wall makes everyone jump.
‘Is this the international students’ orientation?’
It really could only be one person. Ethan glances around the room at the mixture of confused, annoyed and immediately adoring faces.
‘That’s us.’ Freddie waves him in and Ethan shoots finger guns at him as he strolls inside. ‘Take a seat.’
‘Thanks, man.’ His mouth twists into an apologetic grimace and he flashes cartoonishly wide eyes in Riley’s direction. ‘Didn’t mean to interrupt.’
Like a benevolent dictator, he raises a hand for her to start speaking again and drops into the only available chair. The one next to me. He leans in and a droplet of water from his wet hair lands on my hand. I pull away so far, so fast, I almost fall out of my seat.
‘Yo,’ he whispers. ‘What’d I miss?’
‘Everything,’ I whisper back, catching myself on the back of my chair. ‘Shut up.’
‘Harsh.’
My mouth stays firmly shut. I’m too busy listening to Hunter from New York complain about the public transport in Hemden compared to the subway.
‘What’s your deal?’ Ethan presses. ‘Did I do something to offend you?’
Nope. I will not engage.
‘Dude, you’re acting like I punched your puppy and I deserve to know why.’
‘New guy!’ Freddie cuts in before I can say anything. ‘Name, where you’re from, what you’re studying and something you’ve learned about Hemden.’
‘The name’s Ethan, Ethan Taylor.’
He stands up to speak, even though no one else did, and I have to crane my neck to look up at him. He’s wearing sweats, his hair soaked through, and his face flushed, like he ran all the way here.
‘I’m from Beaufort, South Carolina, sports science major at Marshall College. I’m a soccer player so that kind of stuff is pretty useful, but they don’t offer it here so I’m taking psychology.’
Just like Alice and Jenna. They’ll be thrilled.
‘And, uh, something I’ve learned since arriving at Hemden … well, I guess I learned they don’t card at the bar.’ He pauses and everyone else laughs while I roll my eyes. ‘And I learned there’s another Marshall student here.’
He looks down to me and every pair of eyes in the room follows.
‘Two students from one college, that’s pretty rare,’ Freddie comments as Ethan takes his seat. ‘You’re from Marshall too?’
‘Um, yes, that’s right.’ Unlike Ethan I do not volunteer to leave my seat. ‘But I’m reading English lit.’
‘And your name?’
‘Mia Meyers.’
‘Mia!’
Ethan taps his fingers against his forehead as though he knew it all along. ‘Seriously, y’all, I have to get better at remembering names.’
‘And what have you learned since you got here, Mia?’ Freddie asks, ignoring him and winning my undying loyalty.
‘That it can’t be as difficult to get into Hemden as I thought,’ I say with a meaningful glance over at my neighbour.
The whole room chuckles as though I’ve made a cute joke, but truly, I have questions.
Ethan can’t be entirely dumb, student athletes need to keep a decent GPA to be eligible to play, but I also know most schools make it their business to ensure the best athletes meet those requirements by whatever means necessary.
Ethan Taylor is our school’s very best athlete.
Or was. When I think of everything I sacrificed to get here, all the hours I spent studying to boost my GPA, it burns to think Ethan somehow strolled on in.
And even though I don’t know much about his family, if he’s from Beaufort, it’s pretty likely he comes from a lot more money than I do.
Not a day goes by when my mom or dad or both fail to remind me how much they’ve had to scrape together to pay my tuition fees, and not a day goes by that I don’t feel impossibly guilty about it.
Ethan might not have Jenna and Michael money, but I’ll bet his Beaufort family absolutely has enough to grease the wheels and get him into a prestigious junior year abroad program.
My only question is, why would he want to leave Marshall to begin with?
‘Mia.’
The moment Freddie wraps up, I jump out of my chair but I’m not fast enough. Ethan rests a hand on my shoulder, and I freeze. Everyone else filters out of the room, exchanging numbers on torn-out pages of notebooks, and I watch them go, pinned to the spot.
‘Ethan?’
‘Can you please tell me what I’ve done to upset you?’
He stares at me with the kind of puppy-dog eyes that would probably work on ninety-nine per cent of the Hemden population, but I’ve had my shots against charismatic Southern men, I’m immune.
‘Whatever it is, I’m happy to apologize but I would like to know what I’m apologizing for.’
For a moment, I don’t know what to say. He hasn’t done anything wrong, not really, but we’re not friends and I don’t want to be.
I didn’t exist in his orbit and that’s fine.
When it comes to the people we do have in common, Breanna and his friend Gabe, they both went out of their way to make my life miserable.
My dad always says you can tell everything about someone by the people they choose to surround themselves with.
‘If you don’t think you have anything to apologize for, you shouldn’t apologize,’ I tell him, staring at his hand until he removes it from my shoulder.
‘We’re not friends,’ I add. ‘No reason why things have to be different here than they were at Marshall.’
‘We could be friends,’ Ethan protests and I pull the sleeves of my sweater over my hands so he doesn’t see my frustrated, balled-up fists.
‘Why? We have nothing in common, you don’t know anything about me.’
‘And what, you know so much about me?’ he counters, looking altogether too pleased with himself. ‘C’mon, Mia, you need to relax.’
One of the dumbest things any man can ever say to a woman. Tilting my head to one side, I smile at him sweetly.
‘What was happening in your room this morning?’
Ethan’s triumph is short-lived. Just because I don’t get along with his girlfriend doesn’t mean I can’t call out a douche when he’s openly cheating.
‘What was happening in my room? What do you mean?’
‘All that noise,’ I say. ‘The crashing, the banging, the shouting. That wasn’t you?’
‘That was not me.’ He ducks his head then looks at me from under his hair, faux bashful, and I assume I’m supposed to be charmed. ‘Technically, it wasn’t.’
‘Classy.’ I shake my head as I gather up my things, more certain of my position than ever. ‘Less than twenty-four hours and you’re already breaking the rules. You know we’re not supposed to have overnight guests in the flat?’
‘No way.’
‘Yes way.’
‘Huh.’ He shoves his hands deep in his pockets. ‘I did not know we’re not supposed to have overnight guests. What a stupid rule.’
‘I wonder if your girlfriend would think it’s stupid?’
Now it’s his turn to freeze, the cocky look on his face hardening into something stony. The temperature of the Greenwood room seems to drop by several degrees and without meaning to, I take a cautious step away from Ethan’s towering, furious frame.
‘I haven’t got a girlfriend.’
He turns away and snatches up the door handle so hard I worry that the entire antique door is going to come off in his hand.
‘Maybe,’ he says without turning to face me, ‘you’re the one who doesn’t know anything about me.’
And before I can open my mouth to apologize, he’s gone.