Inconstant Moon - Default Font Edition (15 page)

He looks down at the pretty pre-meds, and then realizes that there are all kinds of people heading in this direction. Already a dozen people, mostly women, making a growing crowd. What happened? Where did all these people come from? Boris realizes he's got to do something if he wants any kind of a life here.

Smiling as rakishly as he can manage he says, “After the swelling goes down I expect I'll be drowning my sorrows at the pub tonight. Any lovely ladies care to help soothe my soul, that's where I'll be.”

Barbie laughs, and reaches up to pat him on the shoulder. “You'll be all right.”

The crowd starts to disperse— it's too cold— and Boris takes advantage to hustle back to the residence, to be alone.

Adam feels unsettled. Not sick exactly. But there is a clenching in his stomach. Seeing that tiny little girl hit that really big guy was weird. Especially when the big guy just fell down.

The part that . . . hurt . . . was watching Barbie run over to the big guy and then laugh and . . . and . . . flirt with him. Some stupid jock. Barbie couldn't spare a minute to talk to him, the one who makes her computer work like clockwork, the one who spent a fortune to take her to that concert of noise. But she can find time to bat her eyes at that . . . that . . . jock.

Adam shuts his eyes. His ears are still ringing from all the noise last night. Maybe the best thing for him today would be to go home. Everyone else cuts classes. Why shouldn't he? He's as good as they are.

Better.

Mental Health day, that's what Oscar would call it. Just go home. Maybe he'd be better off staying away from girls altogether.

They just are too different. He doesn't know how . . . how to be with them. Why can't girls just be like regular people? It's like they have different rules.

His brother got him tickets— really good tickets apparently — to the concert. Sitting right beside giant speakers is supposed to be a good thing? Not to him.

Lights flashing, strobing. Giant screens showing videos of politicians and then there were those weird dancers. Lights and special effects pounding in your eyes, people yelling and screaming all through it. And it was just noise.

You couldn't call it music, not really. Music is Sergei Prokofiev or Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Not noise so loud your ears ring for hours afterward.

He knows Barbie enjoyed it. She jumped up and down, a lot, and even sang along with the noise when he couldn't even tell what the words were. She smelled good. Especially after all the jumping around. He guesses it was supposed to be dancing. Was watching her jiggle like that worth it? He'll be paying it off for weeks, but it was worth it. Wasn't it?

Barbie got so sweaty so he could kind of see through her shirt. He really wanted to touch her. He looks around quickly, feeling guilty for the thought. Even though it's cold he's getting sweaty himself, just thinking about Barbie. He wanted to touch her so much last night after the concert but he didn't. Couldn't.

She smelled so good in the car. Her car is so much nicer than his, he's glad he let her drive. For the very first time he understands why guys spend so much money on cars. He would have been embarrassed for her to ride in his car.

Walking down the path toward the parking lot now, the more he thinks about it the better the idea of a mental health day sounds. His head is still pounding from last night. He just wanted to touch her. Maybe it wasn't worth it, really.

She didn't even kiss him goodnight.

Krystal is still struggling with her CSS files. She always thinks she gets it in class, but when she goes to do it nothing works the way she thinks it should. Her concentration is broken when a shadow blocks the morning light and she looks up to see Jake, the little photographer who doesn't look old enough for high school, much less university. Oh hell, he's the one Oz told.

“You looking for somebody?” she asks. “Oz maybe?”

But even though he looks a little insecure, he holds out a gift box. Uh oh. Last thing she needs is a puppy dog.

She asks, “What's that?”

Jake looks nervous. “It's nothing much.”

Krystal purses her lips. “Look, I don't need a present.”

He grins. “Uh, look, I just wanted to say, um, I'm sorry I overheard Maggie and all, and I realize that it's none of my business, but I wanted you to know that if you need anything I'll do whatever I can to help. That's all I wanted to say.”

He drops the box on the desk and turns to leave but she stops him with “Wait a minute.”

He turns back.

She asks, “Look, Jake . . .” He nods mutely, hopeful.

“It was an accident you know, and I appreciate the offer and all, but I'll be okay.  Really. I just don't want it to get around.”

He nods again, “Don't worry, I wouldn't tell anybody even if Oscar hadn't pretty much threatened to kill me if I did.”

Krystal laughs. “Okay. But I still don't need a present.”

“I think you do.” Jake takes the box, and opens it. “It's a photo key chain. I've put some pictures on it already so it's not like I could return it even if I wanted to. It's just a little thing, but it's nice because you can always keep a few of your favourite pictures with you.”

Now curious, she says, “What pictures?”

“Just some I took at the Ubuntu party.”

“Can I see?” she asks, now very curious.

“Sure.” He hands it to her and she sees a glowing digital image of herself. “I made it for you, you can have it.”

“How do I see the other pictures?”

“There's a little wheel along the bottom, you just roll it.”

Jake watches as Krystal scrolls through the images, Maggie, Oz, Kate, the crowd in the lab, one of her and Jose she lingers over. Jake can tell she's liking it.

She looks up at Jake. “Can I change the pictures?”

He nods. “There's a USB connector in the box. It's really easy. Will you be going to the computer club meeting tonight?”

“Yeah, probably.” Krystal stands up.

“Me too.” Jake smiles at her, secretly pleased that she's not much taller than he is. “I've got to get to class but I'll show you how tonight if you haven't already figured it out yourself, Okay?”

Krystal smiles back. “Deal. Thanks Jake.” She leans over and gives him a peck on the cheek.

Jake smiles and preens as he floats away to his next class. Maybe Krystal could like him, just a little. He'll have to think of an even cooler gift next time.

Make sure the next kiss doesn't land on the cheek though.

Liz paces back and forth at the bus stop.

It's cold out here but it should be warm enough inside the Waterfront Mall.

If the bus doesn't get here soon she'll have to wait half an hour or more for her cameras to warm up when she gets there. She glances at her watch. Again. Where is Natasha? Stamping her feet to keep warm she looks back down the path to the Res.

The Auto Show was all Natasha's idea. Lets go take pictures of these great antique cars, Natasha said. Just us girls, she said. Smell the leather, she said. Get up close and personal with real history, she said.

So where is she?

Liz spots the bus lumbering up the main road.

Natasha will just have to come later on her own, Liz isn't waiting out here any longer. It's too cold.

Global warming. Hah.

He looks down at his feet crunching the leaves. Stomping them. Follow the path through the woods. Take the short cut for the scenic route. Beautiful day. But so cold. Just like Barbie. Time to take control of his destiny. He is a man after all. He can't allow her to control him anymore.

He has to stop thinking about her beautiful hair. Bright as gold. Or the swell of her breasts. Her scent. Her lips.

He can feel his blood rushing now. Just from the thought of her. That's wrong because he can feel himself getting excited. Wrong wrong wrong, he thinks. And it's starting to hurt. Walking. He has to get off the path. It could be embarrassing, messy. She acts as though she's a princess and he's a . . . tool that she can use. Take what she wants then cast him aside.

He was a perfect gentleman. She should appreciate him. Instead she treats him as though he is less than dirt. Will she ever think he's good enough? Will he ever be real to her?

He stumbles off the path into the woods, feeling the rage mount with his erection. He can't control the power. He looks around, he's off the path, no one can see him here. He opens his pants thinking maybe if he relieves himself . . .

His face is wet, oh God. He's crying over her. Stop it. It's as though she's cast a spell over him. He has to get her out of his head because she is messing up his mind.

He reaches down and starts rubbing himself. He can feel the heat rising but then he flashes on the contempt in her eyes and his erection deflates with his sobs.

She made him feel so wonderful at first.

Staring down at the expression of his manhood dangling limp between his legs, he can't believe she has done this to him. Why? It's crazy. Couldn't she see how good it would have been? He has got to put her out of his mind. He rubs his sleeve across his face, trying to mop up the tears that seem endless. How can he be so weak? How could he let her do this to him?

The crack of a twig behind him is as loud as a rifle shot.

Oh God no.

He freezes in horror. Maybe it's imagination?

No.

There is someone coming. That's bad.

Even worse is the girl voice coming through the trees, getting closer, calling out, “Are you all right?”

The idea of a woman seeing him all . . . all hanging out, snot running down his face . . . eyes red . . . crying. Men don't cry. As quick as they began the tears stop now.

He doesn't dare speak. His heart batters his chest, he hopes she will go somewhere else.

He can not be found like this. No one can see him like this, especially a woman. Quietly he moves behind the tree, leaning against the trunk to quiet his breathing. When he reaches to put himself back in his pants the erection is unaccountably back, even more insistent than before.

Maybe she's gone. No. He hears her call out again, “Hello?” Why can't she just leave him alone?

She should just go away. But no. Too much to hope for. He hears the leaves crunch as she pushes closer to him.

He moves farther back, working his way around some bushes. And now the erection won't go down. It seems to have a life of its own, sticking out in front of him like a lance. He can't. It just won't fit into his pants like this . . . what is that damned woman doing . . . he can't hear her.

Crouching behind the bushes he discovers a handy tree stump, and he sinks onto it. The thicker brush screens him, making him feel a bit safer. Looking down he's amazed to see if anything he's even harder than before. No way a zipper will be able to contain this. But the damned woman is still blundering around out there. Maybe if he takes off his jacket and covers himself, he can pretend . . .

No. He's a grown man. He shouldn't have to pretend anything. He shouldn't have to hide. He left the path for privacy. He is minding his own business. He didn't ask for company. He is entitled to find his own peace in the forest. He picks up a stick.

Flashes of her through the shrubbery. “Is there someone here? Do you need help?” It's that red haired girl, the nasty little Natasha. The one he saw punch out her boyfriend. That Boris is a big guy but she knocked him down and he didn't even fight back, he just took it like a sap.

Damn woman's almost found him.

That can't happen. It can't it can't it can't. Oh god in heaven she's going to find him.

He watches her move around the tree and tentatively step back onto the path. He can see her clearly from behind. How much damage does she need to do in a day? He tightens his grip on the stick and stands up.

The woman is dangerous.

Boris comes out of the shower, wrapped in a towel, heading up the stairs to the girl's kitchen. He knows the upper level is off limits but nobody's here and it's an emergency. Maggie has that bag of frozen peas she uses as an icepack when her trick ankle swells. Nobody will have stolen that because even the local food thieves know those peas have been defrosted and refrozen so many times that eating them would mean a sure trip to the hospital side.

Not that any of the students ever seem to actually eat anything as nutritious as peas, he starts to smile at the thought but the pain stops him cold. He needs those peas.

He's wrapping Maggie's bag of peas in a tea towel when Elsie comes in.

“What happened to you?”

Boris jumps, then realizes Elsie is more interested in his busted face than in busting him. He starts to smile but the pain stops it dead.”I assumed the whole school would know by now.”

Elsie smiles. “I'm not the whole school. Let me see.”

She corners him, reaches up and tilts his chin back so she can examine his eye in the light.

“I've had black eyes before. I'll live.”

“You can't be too careful with your eyes Boris. A trauma can detach a retina. Hang on a minute.” Elsie leaves him leaning on the cupboard while she roots through the drawer.

“Natasha hit me.”

“Ah.” She holds up a small bright LED flashlight.

Boris swallows, afraid of what she'll find.

“Don't look so worried. I'm just looking, it won't hurt. I may only be a student but I can probably tell you if you need to go in and see a real doctor. All right?”

Boris nods. “It hurts more than my last black eye.”

“Here, what I want you to do is lean back and look up. Tilt your head back. Just like that. Keep staring up and I'm going to shine the light in your eyes. Try not to blink.”

“Okay.” Boris leans back and concentrates on keeping his eyes open and still, trying not to flinch when she shines the powerful little flash in his eyes. It seems to take forever but then suddenly she switches it off. It's over.

“So what do you think,” he asks nervously as she tucks the flashlight back into the drawer full of odds and ends.

She smiles at him. “I can't see anything wrong. Use the ice, take Tylenol. If it hurts tomorrow, you should see a real doctor.”