A/N: Chapter 2! I got motivated! Once again, tell me how I'm doing! Read and review! There have been a few name changes to make the AU a little more normal, hope you guys don't mind!
Thank you,
sm
Chapter Two.
In reward to myself for having such a good workout, I decided to use the elevator to get back up to my apartment. The doors were metal, so I could see an incredibly distorted reflection of myself. I had grabbed one of my dad's old Yale shirts and a pair of black running shorts. In the reflection, I looked like a large blob of dark colors with four splotches of white across my chest.
The elevator was on its way up to the 16th floor of the building. I unfortunately had gotten into the slow elevator and knew this would take a while.
I started to pass the time to look for a different song to play on my phone. When I found one I wanted within five seconds, I was back where I was six seconds ago. I sighed as I saw that the elevator had only managed to get to the second floor.
Thinking it was something an athlete would do, I started to stretch in the elevator. I stopped after the elevator lurched and threw me backwards while I was touching my toes.
Fifth floor. Making some progress.
I looked back at my phone and saw I had missed a call from my mother while I attempted to run 3 miles without stopping. By missed I mean ignored. It's not that I don't love my mother. I just don't like her. For now at least. Her last five calls have started out innocently enough with small talk about classes and work. They then take a turn for the worst when she starts to ask when I'm going to marry a "nice Connecticut girl" and move back. I usually jokingly respond with "never, mother, you shall have no grandchildren to inherit the crown."
She left a voicemail and as the elevator was snailing along at the eighth floor, I decided that there was nothing else I could do to waste time.
"Bubba dearest,"
She knows I hate being called that. It's not even my name. They just call me that because they named me after my grandfather and didn't want to confuse the old guy. Benjamin. Benny. Ben. Benji. I didn't care as long as it wasn't Bubba.
"it's me your mother,"
Shocker.
"I'm just calling to check in on you. The last time we Skyped you looked so gaunt."
The last time we Skyped? I thought about when the last time I Skyped my parents was. Midterm week. That's right. Mom decided it was great idea to video chat with me while I looked like boxing 12 rounds daily. Mother.
"Anyway. I ran into your friend, oh, what's her name, Francine? Fanny?"
Fionna.
"Fionna? That's it. Anyway. I ran into her at the Trader Joe's, oh by the way,"
Here we go.
"they just put a Trader Joe's in down the street from Dad's office, have you ever been to one of those? They're fantastic. I love it! I bought this Organic Almond Butter Spread there and I have been eating it out of the jar since I got it!"
They put the Trader Joe's in last August. I can just imagine my mother being surrounded by all the hipsters who shop at Trader Joe's.
"The only thing is that there are these weird hippies who shop there,"
Hippies. Okay.
"Anyway. I saw your friend Fionna there. Is she a lesbian? I saw her holding hands with that Cate girl she's been friends with for ages now. I don't think its right. I don't have a problem with them being lesbians. I just have a problem with the fact that Cate is nearly 20 years older than Fionna."
Really? You're 15 years younger than dad…
"But anyway Benji, I called to see how you were. I miss you! I wish you would call me more often. Love you."
Yet another great voicemail from my wonderful mother. Fortunately, the elevator had managed to get to the thirteenth floor. Only three more floors to go.
I anxiously rubbed my arm with my hand. I lifted up my sleeve to examine my upper part of my left arm. I scratched at the pink birthmark on the front part of my shoulder. My dad's shirt was big enough to where I could pull it and fully see the odd birthmark. It looked almost exactly like a wrapped piece of bubblegum. So weird.
Finally, the elevator ride from hell ended. The opening of the doors brought me back to reality, and I stopped picking at my birthmark and got out of the elevator.
I reached behind me and pulled my knapsack from my back and opened it. Inside I found my keys and pulled them out, trying to pick out the key that would get me back into my apartment.
With the right key in position, I unlocked the door. I pushed it open and immediately the cool breeze of air conditioning was a welcome climate change for my sweaty body.
I plopped down on the couch and threw my knapsack next to me. I glanced at the clock above my television and saw that it was 6:45. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath in.
An overdramatic noise may have been made when got up from the couch a few minutes later.
I plodded to my room and put the knapsack on my closet door handle to stay until I did the same thing tomorrow morning as I did this morning. As I put it on the handle, I turned the spherical object so I could pick out exactly what I was going to wear that day.
The entire left half of my closet was a distinct shade of orange. College has many benefits. Free shirts being one of them. The rest of my closet was divided between button-ups, regular shirts, shorts and pants, all of varying colors.
It was a little chilly when I went out on the balcony earlier that morning. I checked my phone to see what the weather would be later in the day. Austin weather had the tendency to change from pleasant to hell within a few hours.
High of 74. Not bad. I grabbed a long-sleeved white t-shirt that had my school's name printed on the front of it in that distinct shade of orange. I grabbed a pair of black jeans for the bottom half of my outfit. I then reached for the white high tops that were at the bottom of my closet. I was happy with what I was wearing that day. My wardrobe changed drastically when I moved from Connecticut to Texas. Mother always bought me my clothes, which were usually white button-ups and argyle sweaters in some god awful color combination.
I threw the clothes on the bed and I went into my little bathroom. I took off my sweaty Yale shirt and my running shorts and tossed them into my hamper by the linen closet. I glanced at my now naked body in the mirror. I looked like a pretentious Connecticutian. My slightly pink tinged, pale skin made it look like I never went out into the sun. I made the resolution then and there to actively try to get skin cancer and tan more.
