Take My Hand (5 page)

Emily

“
Right
, Ho. Here’s the plan of action,” Rachel said as I tossed the last few
things I thought I might need into my bag. “When I give you the nod, you need
to drop your books,” she added, rolling the sleeves of her white-knit jumper up
to expose the bottom half of her sleeves – a koi fish surrounded by waves
and cherry blossoms on the left arm, and a collection of Japanese flowers on
the right.

“Eh?” I asked, totally confused.

“Oh come on, that’s how all the girls in
books meet the man of their dreams. When I see a hot guy I’ll give you the nod.
Then you’re gonna drop your books on the floor and give out your best damsel in
distress look. He’ll bend down to help you pick them up, then you’ll bump into
each other on the way back up and when he looks into those big blue eyes of
yours he won’t be able to stop himself planning the wedding, babies, the lot.”

“Um, I
already have a boyfriend
remember?”

“He’s not your boyfriend. You haven’t even
fucked him yet.” You can always count on Rachel to lower the tone. “Besides, if
last night hasn’t proved what a total loser he is I don’t know what will. What
kind of guy gets off his tits to the point he can’t piss straight when he’s
supposed to be romancing his girl?” She had a point. I was more than a little
disappointed with Jared last night. I’ve only known him a few days but the more
time I spend with him the more apparent it becomes just how little we have in
common. He’s a nice enough guy, but drinking and talking football and sci-fi
just isn’t my thing.

“Either way, I’m not looking for anyone new.
I need to concentrate on my studies.”

“I think you’ll find being a boring old
spinster is
not
on the New Life list,” Rachel said with a disapproving
raised eyebrow. I shook my head, dismissing her. Then I threw my bag over my
shoulder and took hold of the handles to her wheelchair.

“Come on. We’ve got classes to find.”

Rachel and I went our separate ways after I
eventually found a parking space big enough to lift her chair from my silver
Ford Fiesta. More than half of the bays reserved for disabled parking held cars
without disabled permits – some people were so selfish. And lazy.

Armed with a map, a fresh coffee from
Starbucks and a stomach full of killer butterflies, I set off to find my first class.
Let’s just say the experience did wonders for my social skills practice. It
took me over half an hour of walking in circles, climbing staircases and asking
every other person I came across for directions before I found the Psychology
building. This caused me to be twelve minutes late and by the time I reached
the door to my class I was a nervous, clammy and completely breathless wreck.

It’s not like school of course. There wasn’t
a big scene, I didn’t have to get a note from my mum or fear a week’s
detention. I just slipped in mostly unnoticed and scanned the room for the
first available seat.

No bloody way…

If Rachel hadn’t devised her ingenious
‘dropping the books’ trick to find me a hot guy, this would have definitely
been option two. I had literally just walked into any one of the books on my
Kindle. They nearly all started with either book dropping, or this…

Sliding into my seat, Jared’s friend Mr
Nameless didn’t even look up from his paper.

“Hey.” I nudged his shoulder. His head turned
and his dark-blue eyes met mine.

“Um, hey.” His eyes widened, appearing almost
startled as he acknowledged my presence.

“This is a coincidence if ever there was
one,” I whispered. He simply nodded and a let out a sort of huffing sound
before turning his attention back to the tutor. I figured I should do the same
if I wanted to make a good impression.

I listened intently as our tutor guided us
through what was expected of us, what we could expect from him, and handed us a
never-ending pile of notes and textbooks. There was no way they were all going
to fit in my bag and I could suddenly see myself
actually
dropping them
in front of some cute guy – only it would be a genuine accident.

Psychology sounded way harder than I was
anticipating. And more boring. I never planned to go to university you see and
it was the only pathway that really jumped out at me. I’ve spent my life
wishing I could be different – more confident, more social… be whatever
it takes to make my mum happy. Maybe I thought with psychology I would learn
about how my
own
mind works –
my own personal therapy so to speak.

Mr Nameless remained quiet and rigid
throughout and I wondered if maybe I’d done something to annoy him. Maybe he
blamed me for Jared’s behaviour last night or something. This guy was so
unsociable it made
me
look like a party animal.

It made me feel self-conscious sitting so
close to him and I found my eyes skimming the room for somewhere else to sit
next time. It’s sod’s law the place was crammed of course. It seemed psychology
was a popular choice. Still, it’s common knowledge that almost half of
undergraduates drop out during their first year so I felt a little better
knowing it was only a matter of time before another seat became spare.

“Here. I have the money I owe you,” I said,
breaking into the uncomfortable silence between us once the tutor wrapped
things up for the morning while trying extremely hard not to focus on the
intoxicating scent of his spicy aftershave. “Thanks again for your help.”

“Anytime,” he murmured with a ghost of a
smile, taking the two ten-pound notes from me. My eyes followed the notes as he
stuffed them carelessly into his open wallet. Then they zoned in on his student
I.D. card – Dexter Michaels.

“Dexter,” I noted. “Like the serial killer?”

“Excuse me?” he asked, perplexity washing
over his face.

“Your name. Dexter – like the serial
killer Dexter,” I repeated, suddenly feeling dumber than a sack of crap.

“Yeah, I guess. Most people call me Dex.” Oh
my God, did he
actually
just volunteer some information about himself?
Something unreachable flickered behind his dark blue eyes – intriguing
me… captivating me.

Huh.

Weird
.

“Well most people call me Em.”

“Well, Em, I’m sure we’ll see each other
soon,” he said with a full-blown smile this time as he stood up from his seat.
I swear it was impossible to decipher what mood this man was in. Maybe he had
one of those mood disorders you read about.

“Definitely. I’m coming round to yours… well,
Jared’s tonight.”

“I’ll be working,” he deadpanned. For some
unfathomable reason that disappointed me more than it should.

“Oh. Well see you here tomorrow then?”

“Sure. See ya, Em,” he replied with a sultry
smile I’d never seen before. The way his American tongue tickled my name when
he said it left me feeling a little giddy and I stared after him until he
disappeared into the crowd of exiting students.

“Bye,” I finally mouthed, even though there
was no one in sight.

Feeling a little lightheaded I decided to
text Rachel and tell her I’d meet her in the Starbucks across the road instead
of the car park like we’d agreed. I needed a coffee fix – pronto. I felt
strange – like I was coming down with something. My head was spinning a
little and I felt nauseous. After tucking my phone back into my pocket I slung
my back-breakingly heavy bag over my shoulder, loaded my arms up with the mass
of books on my desk and set off to find some much needed cool air.

**********

Two weeks in and I think I’m starting to get
the hang of being a student in the heart of London. I can feel my confidence
levels growing by the day. They’ve had to – this city is so busy
absolutely
all
of the time. There’s always someone bumping into you,
asking you for something, striking up conversation just because you’re there…
I’m actually pretty proud of how far I’ve come. I can now hold a full-blown
conversation with a total stranger without my heart hammering to a near
explosion.

With my collection of Glee songs playing
softly in the background, I was choosing an outfit to wear, trying to decide
between my fine-knit grey jumper-dress or my skinny jeans and cobalt-blue
halterneck, when my phone rang. I groaned loudly the second I checked it and
saw
Mum Calling
illuminate the
screen. Grudgingly, I swiped my finger across to answer.

“Hi, Mum.”

“Are you settling in okay?” she asked –
no hello as usual.

“Yes thanks. I think I’m-”

“And how’s Rachel?” she interrupted, cutting
me off – again as usual. “Are you taking care of her?”

“Rachel doesn’t need taking care of, Mum.
She’s-”

“Oh, Emily, stop being so self-centred!” See
what I mean about the interrupting? Sometimes I honestly can’t work out why she
bothers to talk to me at all. She clearly isn’t interested in anything I’ve got
to say. “Of course she needs taking care of. She’s disabled!” She sounded
utterly disgusted with me. Again, that wasn’t out of the ordinary.

“Well I need to go now. I’m swamped with
charity admin today. You’re father wanted to know how you were so I’ll pass on
that you’re fine.” My ‘father’ wanted to know how I was doing – not her.
Not the only woman in the world who’s supposed to love and worry about you
until the day they draw their last breath. Most of the time I rolled my eyes
and silently laughed off how little I actually meant to her. But some days
– days like today, when I’m feeling both overwhelmed yet proud of myself
with this life I was creating – it cut a little deep.

It’s those days, where just hearing her voice
makes the back of my eyes sting and my bottom lip wobble.

“Okay. Bye, Mum.”

I doubt you’ll be surprised to hear she hung
up before I’d even muttered that goodbye – let alone offer her own.
Blinking away the tears before they had chance to fall I straightened myself up
and shook myself off defiantly, refusing to think about the ache in my chest
for another second. Then I went back to weighing up my outfits in preparation
to meet with Jared.

If I’m honest, things are growing a little
stale with him. I can’t work out why it’s not working. In theory I should be
head over heels for him. He’s cute, he’s thoughtful and he can keep me laughing
so long I get face-ache but… something’s missing. I guess I’m just not experienced
enough to know what it is yet. Rachel thinks I should bin him off and start
again but that seems a little cruel to me – he’s done nothing wrong as
such. Instead, I’ve decided to give it another week and if I still feel the
same, maybe suggest we just be friends. Can a guy and a girl be just friends?
Or am I being naïve?

 
I
can also tell he’s getting impatient in the S word department. He’s not said as
much but his hands keep wandering that little bit further whenever we’re making
out and quite frankly it’s getting embarrassing having to keep batting them
away. It’s just not doing anything for me – just like it never did with
Rhys. I mean I wasn’t expecting fireworks or little birds to start singing in
my ears or anything but I assumed when a guy was panting and shirtless as he
kissed me, I’d feel
something
stirring inside me. But to be honest I
can’t seem to stop myself wanting to whip out my Kindle and get back to Dean
Holder.

Maybe my vajayjay is broken.

After settling on the jumper dress, I was
just putting the finishing touches to my makeup (which I’ve become rather good
at lately) when Rachel appeared in the doorway.

“Right, Emily…” Uh oh. She means business.
“I’ve been looking through this list and you’ve yet to achieve
one
fucking
thing on it. I’m not happy, Ho,” she scolded, waving the laminated New Life
list in the air.

“Um…
sorry?
” What else could I say?

“I don’t need sorry I need you to put some
effort in. Starting tonight.”

Double uh oh…

“K so you’re going out with Jared again which
offers the opportunity to cross off a heap of things on this list. Now you’ve
got the option of either getting wasted, having sex numerous times with him, or
my personal favourite… Number 24 – painting a guy’s toenails.” Rachel
winked at me and I remembered the playful argument we had when she listed
Number 24. How was getting a guy to let me do girly things to him going to
change my life? In the same way Number 30 and 42 were I suppose.

·
Eat a raw potato

·
Drink cider on all fours from
a doggy bowl

The more I think about it, the more certain I
am Rachel has some wires loose in her brain.

“I’ll try,” was all I could say. I knew this
was all fun and Rachel would never expect me to do anything I wasn’t
comfortable with but I really
did
want to have a bash at the list.
Though unbeknownst to Rachel I was planning to start with something relatively
easy – like Number 12: