"No, Bella, fuck you." He rose to his knees, anger flashing so brilliant the green of his eyes turned golden in the dim. My mind did play tricks on me, though, particularly when I'd taken to the drink.
My body sagged against the sofa, too soft and insubstantial, like I could dissolve into the floor.
"I suppose I should leave." I looked up at him, my voice resigned.
"Don't you dare... not again. Not until you've explained yourself." He stood, his face disappearing from my vantage point. I'd spent so long trying to remember what he looked like, and already the image shattered, creating a mosaic.
But beautiful. He was always so beautiful.
"Should I come to bed with you?" I asked. I was so tired I feared I'd never sleep again.
"No. I don't trust myself around you." He dropped an itchy, wool blanket on me. "The couch is good enough."
It was more than I deserved.
I dreamed of him. I always did. So much so that I could no longer reconcile the fact from the fantasy. In my dream we were young - young for our age in so many ways - in university, back when I thought my interests in academia defined me. I thought I was going to matter, to be important somehow.
I was so foolish.
"Excuse me?" I called over to a man in a green shirt. All employees in the bookstore wore a green, button-down shirt and black, nondescript slacks.
"Me?" he replied. Red hair and clear skin.
I walked over to him. "I'm looking for the Norton Anthology of Modern Poetry. It's on my reading list, but the shelves are empty."
"Ah. You must be a freshman." He laughed.
"How can you be so certain?" I bowed my head, my breath quickening as I stared at his cherry Docs. Eighteen holes!
"First year English? That shit goes fast. You should buy it second hand off campus. Let me see your syllabus."
Feeling foolish, I fished it out of my backpack and passed it to him.
"Shit, really? Oh, man. It's a good thing you found me." He laughed and took my hand, leading me out of the store. "Most of these are published by Penguin. You can get it cheaper at Coles. Don't waste your parents' money."
"Hey!" My face heated. "Don't make assumptions about me!" I'd taken a year off between high school and university, working full time to afford my tuition.
He shrugged. "Why not? You made them about me."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, for whatever reason, you assumed I work here."
"Don't you?" My voice shook.
"Nah. I'm a student. Third year Fine Arts."
"Oh," I said, feeling like an asshole. "Well, you were totally helpful. I'll go over to Coles."
"Do I look poor to you?" he asked by way of non-sequitur, his tone tinged with bitterness. "Dumb? Is it the eyebrow and nose ring?"
"I hadn't noticed." A small, silver stud on his very straight nose caught the light and my attention.
"Right." He made a disgusted-sounding snort. Shit, I hadn't meant to upset him.
"It's just that you're wearing green," I said in a small voice. "And I'm face blind. I have trouble noticing... everything."
"Face blind?" His brow creased. "I don't know what that means."
"I assumed you didn't."
"You know what they say about people who make assumptions, don't you?" he asked, his mouth turning up at the corners.
"That they give excellent head?" I whispered.
He stumbled and fell onto his ass.