Author's Notes: As the title implies, today's chapter features a bunch of brief scenes about the summer break. It feels kind of touch-and-go, but I want to get this train a movin'. Toot toot! Enjoy!
Summer: Vignettes
Amy was picking a way through the forest near the campus at Dyani's heels. It was about noon, but she hadn't been up for long, and the bright sunlight was disorienting. She kept her glance on her feet, both to shield her eyes and to improve her frightful footing.
"Don't you spend all day outside?" Amy asked. She ducked beneath a low branch, then nearly twisted her ankle on a stone.
"Yes." Dyani moved through the woods with quiet grace, like a deer. Amy couldn't help but picture Gimli crashing through the trees beside Legolas, who watched with amusement.
"Then why do you hike in the forest when you're not on your shift?"
Dyani turned back enough to glance at her. "I prefer to be outdoors. The dorms feel cold and impersonal."
"Hard to argue with that..." Living in a dorm was like spending a long stretch in a hotel, except that the quality of the rooms suggested that the owner had no need to entice clients back for another stay.
"Besides," Dyani said, smiling in her mysterious way, "I think you will see why I spend so much time here."
Amy lapsed into silence. If Dyani was following a path, then Amy could not see it. The ground was a mess of low growing plants and leaves, which hid obstacles and slid beneath her shoes. The hike passed in a haze of concentration, with her hands poised towards the nearest tree, should she lose her balance.
Finally, a rushing sound broke through her preoccupation. "Do you hear that?" Amy asked, tearing her eyes away from her feet.
A soft chuckle floated back to her. "I heard it five minutes ago. It means we are close."
Amy was tempted to demand information. If Dyani weren't so calm, she might have wondered if the girl was luring her into the depths of the woods to some insidious end. Shuddering, she shook her head and tried to stifle her imagination.
The forest floor began to brighten. Squinting, Amy realized that there was a break in the trees ahead. The rushing sound grew louder, and she identified it as running water. Dyani sped up, propelling them towards the edge of the trees. They were soon standing in a clearing, but Amy's eyes had adjusted to the dimness of the woods, and they couldn't handle the influx of light. She grimaced and rubbed at them until they stopped watering.
When the white haze receded from her vision, she found herself looking up in awe at a waterfall. "I've never seen one in real life," she said, stepping closer. It wasn't the sort featured in movies, pouring straight down over a height of several stories and crashing onto ragged rocks. Instead, it began about seven feet above her head and ran over clusters of moss-covered rocks, streaming peacefully into the small lake below, which fed a river running through the forest. A ring of rust-colored sand surrounded the lake, giving way to grass, then trees.
Amy moved towards the sand, pressing her palms together with delight. "It's so pretty!"
"I think so, too." Dyani slung her drawstring backpack from her shoulders, opened it, and removed a folded rectangle of thin fabric, which she spread on the sand. Amy took a seat beside her and stared at the landscape for a while, quite forgetting about Dyani.
"Do you mind if I ask about the fight the other night?"
Amy twitched and looked down. Dyani was lying on the sheet with her arms crossed behind her head. Her eyes were closed and her face was expressionless, as if she were napping.
Amy sighed and hugged her knees against her chest. "I guess I don't mind. It must have looked pretty interesting from the outside."
Dyani's lips twitched, then went smooth. "Ah, you could say that. That girl seemed to take issue with you."
Amy flattened her cheek against her knee. "You... You could say that. In a way, I can't blame her. Basically, we're studying bats, but Angela doesn't want to be here. She thinks the bats are gross, and she's afraid of them, but the professor can't shunt her aside, because her parents fund the project. Angela doesn't care about the work, and she keeps endangering the bats, either directly by mishandling them, or indirectly, but not being careful with gathering and inputting data."
"Is that dangerous?" Dyani asked.
"She doesn't think so," Amy muttered. "But our data will be referenced when legislators make decisions about protecting these bats, and others. So, if the data isn't accurate..."
"It bothers you, then."
"Yeah," Amy admitted. "I don't like her because she treats something that matters to me carelessly. She doesn't like me because I correct her when she's not doing the work properly. I really shouldn't be surprised that we ended up clashing. And it doesn't help that Dr. Johnson promoted me. Technically, Angela and the others are my subordinates now, which gets kind of sticky when we're all students."
"Clashing... She seemed to think that she was trying to help you."
Amy collapsed onto the sheet with a groan. "Yeah, I know. I was so sure that she was trying to make herself look good at my expense. But the more I think about it, the more confused I get. Some people like to talk about their lives and ask other people questions. Do you think I took it wrong?"
If Dyani was concerned with her debate, she gave no outward sign. She looked peaceful, but somber, lying like the dead on her blanket. "Possible."
Scowling, Amy rolled onto her elbow, staring down at Dyani. She had no idea what the woman was thinking. Why ask her questions and offer no opinions? "What did you make of it?" Amy asked.
"Hmm..." A dark eye opened and fixed upon her face. "I think the girl was selfish and foolish, and she might have had an agenda. But I also think her advice was well meaning."
"I don't care about how much a gift costs, or how unique it is," Amy said impatiently. Then she thought about what did matter to her, stared about the empty clearing, and felt her eyes fill up.
"She does. That does not make her a bad person."
Amy struggled with that for a while. Wasn't it better to be swayed more by effort and kindness, and less by gifts? "I wish my friend Sora were here," she said at last. "She's the kindest person I know. Maybe she could help me see this from both perspectives."
"Is there a reason why you can't call her?"
"Oh," Amy stammered. "Uh- I guess not. I guess... I'll do that, then."
Amy laid back down and tried to relax, but it felt strange to stretch out so close to someone she hardly knew. Perhaps Dyani sensed her discomfort, because she stood and stepped away from the sheet.
"I'm going to swim," she said, stripping off her plaid button down. Amy glanced away, but calmed when she realized that Dyani wore a swim suit beneath her clothing.
Amy looked at the small lake at the foot of the waterfall. "Uh, is that safe?"
Dyani shrugged. "Is anything worth doing?"
"Reading a book?" The answer was reflexive, but Amy found that she stood by it.
Dyani grinned at her from over her shoulder. "Hardly. A book can counter your most cherished belief in an instant, or break your heart. If you're going to lay in the sun like that, you might want to use the sunscreen in my bag."
Dyani dropped her clothing and slid into the lake, leaving Amy with the sunscreen and her thoughts.
Another Day
Sora followed Matt into a dorm building on their campus. She had never been inside this one, but the lobby and architecture were identical to hers.
"So what's the big surprise, Matt?" she asked. He had been smirking and glancing over his shoulder ever since they met up at the student union, like a child preparing an impressive surprise.
"Just wait," he said. Sora frowned as he poked the down button beside the elevator. What could possibly be worth seeing in the basement?
Truth be told, Sora was a bit frustrated. Since she didn't want her parents to know about Matt, Sora met him on campus or at his home once or twice a week. They didn't have much time together, so what were they doing here?
Still, the limits on seeing each other were her fault, so Sora boarded the elevator and waited in silence as it lurched down. She expected bare concrete walls in the basement, but the tile floors, overhead light panels, and plain white walls matched the floors above.
Matt led her down the narrow hall, and Sora observed that each room was roughly the size of two dorms. They were numbered, empty, and plain. "Matt," Sora protested. Then the ghostly sound of music reached her, and she paused. Matt's grin grew.
He passed a few more doors, then stopped in front of one. "Sora," he said, grasping the handle. "I'd like you to meet my new band."
Delighted shock rooted Sora to the spot. Matt was halfway into the room before she reacted. The space was packed with instruments and boys, and Sora couldn't deny that it went to her head a little. She fought down a giggle of nerves and excitement.
Get it together, Sora. Don't act like a fan girl in front of Matt's new band. God knows you did that enough with the old one. She tried for her typical calm smile. The boys smiled back, except for the keyboardist, who was stroking the keys of his instrument.
One of the boys shifted in his folding chair. He rested his guitar across his lap as he smirked from Sora to Matt. "Ah. Are we already at the 'show off to the girlfriend' stage? I'd hardly call us a band yet. We aren't ready to perform a single song."
Matt tsked and rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. "That bundle of charm would be Desmond," he said. "Lead guitar."
Sora looked from Matt to Desmond. She was tempted to ask if he was trying to explode the hearts of female fans with his band roster, because Desmond was nearly as handsome as Matt, in a different way. He had olive skin, black eyes and hair, and Mediterranean features, including a strong, slightly hooked nose. He was muscular, sporting a few bruises and a scar on his lips, and wore a constant roguish grin.
"I'm the only guitar," Desmond said, cocking an eyebrow.
"We'll find someone for rhythm," Matt said, shrugging. "Next up, we've got Rory on the keyboard."
"Hey." Rory hardly spared a glance before returning his attention to his instrument. "Sorry. Chewing over something, here."
"No problem." Sora watched his blue eyes stare at his hands with feverish intensity. Rory was pale, sandy-haired, and gangly, all long limbs and jabbing elbows, at least above the waist. The rest of him was concealed by the keyboard and the chrome-colored wheelchair he sat in.
"Rory does a lot of our composing, too," Matt said. "We've got a lot of new material to work with. And this," he said, tipping his head towards the drum set, "is Nakale."
Nakale lifted dark, deepset eyes to hers and nodded. He had dark skin, a shorn head, and a wiry body that was wide in the shoulders and compact through the hips. Sora tried to engage him in pleasantries, but quickly gave up. His eyes stayed on hers, focused and gleaming in the fluorescent lights, but he avoided answering vocally. All she received was a few monosyllables in a deep, rich, layered voice that tingled from her eardrums to the base of her spine.
She made a mental note to ask Matt later if Nakale sang. If he could, then he would melt listeners down like butter, and if that didn't attract attention, then she didn't know what would.
"And that's everyone," Matt said. He removed a folding chair from the rack in the corner of the room and placed it against a wall. "We probably won't sound like much yet, but I figured you'd like to sit in on a practice, anyway."
"I would like that," Sora said. Somehow, miraculously, she sounded calm, but her knees trembled as she fell into the chair. Did Matt have any idea how much this meant to her? He picked up his bass, joined his band, and gave her a shaky smile that she couldn't quite decipher.
"Huh. You're our first audience, you know," Desmond said. "Being overly complimentary is a must."
Warmth trickled over every inch of her body. "I will," she said, smiling at Matt. He named a song, nodded to Nakale, and the drummer counted the band in.
The practice was a far cry from a performance from The Teenage Wolves. They kept restarting the song, and, even worse, repeating a handful of bars. Although they made mistakes and didn't always work together seamlessly, Sora was fascinated. Each band member chimed in, and everyone was heard, but Matt was in charge. He chose what parts to replay, made suggestions about the tone, and made decisions when the others debated. He spoke more during that two hour period than he usually spoke in a week, at least outside of his immediate friends.
It was difficult to form an opinion of the music itself, since it wasn't presented in full. Listening was like an auditory version of trying to assemble a puzzle without most of the pieces. Even so, the whispers of ideas and moods captured Sora's attention. It might have been her imagination, but the music seemed more challenging and complex than the fare of Matt's last band.
Too soon, Matt wrapped up the practice with some suggestions and a reminder of the next meeting time. The musicians left the room, and Sora noticed that the drums and the keyboard remained.
"Aren't you worried about those?" Sora asked.
"No problem." Matt pulled his keyring from his pocket. "I applied for club status, and this is the room assigned to us for meetings. I've got a key, so I can lock up behind us."
"Wow. That's really convenient."
"No kidding." Matt grinned and shook his head. "So much better than using someone's garage. No angry neighbors or barking dogs. Had to do a ton of paperwork, but..."
Matt cleared his throat, looked at her, and looked away. "We're just starting out," he muttered as he pocketed his keys. "And we need another member. Honestly, it's great that we've come this far already. But I know it's not..."
Sora smiled and took his hand. "Matt, it's wonderful. Everyone's talented and working together, and you're a great leader. I'm so proud of you." She leaned against his side and rested her head on his shoulder. "Thank you for including me like this."
His stomach jerked in with a tight laugh. He stared at her for a moment, expression serious despite the smile, which slowly faded. A darker shade of blue crept over his irises as his fingers tightened around hers.
"Thank you," he said softly. "Your enthusiasm... It's meant a lot. A lot of people- critics, even fans- treated The Teenage Wolves like... Well, like a faddish boy band. I admit that, when I came here, I wasn't sure I had what it takes to put together a band with a more mature sound. There were days when I considered joining someone else's band, being a part of someone else's sound instead of pursuing my own."
Sora felt herself coloring and sputtering over denials. There was so much she wanted to tell him, but he placed an arm around her and squeezed her shoulder. "Let's get dinner," he said, closing the heart-to-heart conversation before it could begin.
Sora's mind churned while they discussed the nearby restaurants. It was dawning on her that Matt was opening up to her more and more, threading the two of them together in ways that he had never dared with anyone else.
And, while he gave her so much, she continued to stand behind the wall of her marriage arrangement. Shame filled her, darkening her cheeks further, but what could she do? Was she ready to turn her back on a comfortable, interesting lifestyle at age eighteen?
Matt called her name, and she shook her head, smiled, and fought to focus on what he was saying. I'll think about it later. For now, I'm with Matt, and he deserves my attention.
But she failed to set an exact appointment with herself for further discussion.
Another Day
Izzy stared at his smartphone and scowled. He had selected Amy's name and was trying to compose a text message, but his focus was consumed by the blinking cursor. How did one open a random conversation? He had never written a text before, save to convey or request information. What was he supposed to say? Would Amy see his message as an obvious act of penance, and be annoyed no matter what he wrote?
I suppose I could start with what I'm thinking. An exquisite grimace contorted his face, but he smoothed it out, closed his eyes, and breathed in deeply.
If I could tell Amy anything right now, without any kind of consequence, what would I say? He tilted the phone to elongate the keyboard, then started tapping. When he finished, he read the following:
I'm so sorry, Amy. I'm a horrible boyfriend. I have no sense of how to bring you happiness, and I can hardly seem to recall my obligations to you. You deserve better, and I'm anxious to improve. Will you please continue being patient with me?
Izzy groaned, slapped his forehead, and fell back against his bed. The message was too formal, too stiff, and much too upfront about his shortcomings. It sounded like a plea for mercy to an employer after botching something at work. It hurt him to read it; he couldn't imagine what it would do to Amy.
He deleted it, sighed, and tried again.
How are you? It's the afternoon, but I imagine you haven't been up long. I hope the weather is suitable for your research tonight.
Izzy reread the message and fought against the impulse to chuck the phone out of his window. Her sleep schedule? The weather? What were they, strangers chatting on a plane, grasping for pleasantries to carry them through the flight?
Desperation and anxiety swallowed him, and he wrote a string of messages, each stiffer and colder than the last. Finally, he flung the phone towards the foot of his bed, leaned over his lap, and cradled his face in his hands.
Why? Why can't I perform such a simple task?
Of course, reaching across an emotional chasm was no easy feat, even for the most outgoing, but Izzy's mind was too full of his failure to realize that. He reclaimed the phone and vomited the words everyone else used, a phrase with enough strength to bridge the gap of his social skills.
I love you. I'm so sorry. Please, forgive me.
His eyes were stinging by the time he finished typing. There was no way he could send this. To say those words now, especially for the first time, would be blatant manipulation, even if he meant them- and he wasn't sure that he did. Their meaning was tremulous and veiled, an unknown that could not be broken down, step by step, into a simple formula and reassembled into a complex whole. Even if he disregarded his past experience with that phrase, he wasn't ready to use it.
Enough of this charade. Izzy straightened and typed out exactly what he was feeling; nothing more, nothing less. He hit send without checking it over, then collapsed onto his comforter.
It wasn't evening yet, but he was more drained than he usually was after a twenty hour marathon of programming.
Elsewhere, Moments Later
Amy's phone chirped with a text message alert. She lifted it from her desk, then froze. That specific sound was reserved for texts from Izzy. But why would he text her now? He only ever texted to say when he would arrive somewhere, or to confirm if he could make a group outing, things like that.
She hesitated, unsure what to make of this. But there was only one way to figure this out, so she swiped the screen and pulled up the message.
I'm thinking of you. I miss you terribly.
Eventually, Amy recovered enough to realize that her palm was pressed against her mouth, like an Austen heroine receiving a climactic proposal. She chided herself, but the hand stayed put. Her eyes glossed over with tears, and she rubbed at them. This is pathetic. I'm sniffling over an 'I miss you.' But this is the first time he's said it...
Her palms slid over her heart and settled there, pressing softly at the pain that seemed to push upward. I've been waiting all this time to hear that he wants me around. I'm not even sure if I should be happy that he said it, or mad that it took him so long.
Her shift hadn't begun yet, and Amy already felt drained in a way that had nothing to do with her body. She sat down on her bed and stared at the phone in her hands, reading the message again and again.
Eventually, it occurred to her that she would have to send a reply. She typed out, I miss you, too. Thank you.
Her thumb hovered over the green send icon, but stalled. Should I really thank him for that? I mean, I'm glad he said it, but...
She rubbed the back of her neck and stared out of her window. A tiny voice was rising in the back of her mind, squeaking through the clamor of emotions, particularly her desire to jump on an opportunity of reconciliation. Her cheeks flushed as she deleted the message and typed a new one: I really miss you, too. I wasn't sure that you missed me.
A chill settled over her, whitening her skin below the bursts of color on her face. That sounds so accusing... But I don't mean it that way. If he doesn't know how I feel, then how can we make it better? Amy mashed her front teeth against her lower lip. As the coordinator on the research field, she was in charge of sharing information with the other kids and making sure that everything went smoothly. Although it hadn't happened on her watch, failure to share relevant knowledge could lead to an entire evening's work being wasted.
I have to tell him. It's the only way to fix this. Amy hunched her shoulders, squeezed her eyes shut, and hit send. She nearly screamed when the phone rang a moment later. Shaking, she accepted the call and placed the mobile against her ear. "Um, hi?"
"Amy." Izzy was speaking softly, but his voice resounded in her skull like a thunderclap. "I know you have work soon, but could you spare a few minutes?"
"I, I-" Amy swallowed the wrong way, coughed, and checked her wrist, but she wasn't wearing a watch. "Uh- Sure?"
There was a stiff pause, and then Izzy sighed. "I'm sorry, Amy. My first reaction to your text was denial, but when I considered things, I realized that you... You have a point."
Amy blinked at the cinder block wall. "You called me, like... Instantly."
"Was it that fast?" Izzy muttered. "It felt like a long interim."
Amy didn't know how to respond, so she waited, ignoring his awkward hedging sound. "I'm sorry," he said at last. "I'm perfectly aware of my difficulties expressing myself, and yet... It's strange to me that you don't know..."
The sentence trailed off into silence, and Amy lifted a hand to her forehead. "Well, I'm not psychic," she said gently. "I need to either be told or shown."
"Of course..." Amy could hear him shifting about on his bed. She lay down and stared beside her, trying to envision him squished in the remaining space. Even in her imagination, he looked uncomfortable.
"I'm not like you," he said at last. "You're... Warm. Obvious about your feelings, even if you often hold back your thoughts. In comparison, I'm stiff and cold. I never intend to hurt you, but... Socially, I'm an oaf. I don't know what I'm doing. I'm sorry."
"I know." She tried to speak soothingly, but her voice broke over the vowel sounds. It's hard for him. I know that. But will I always receive nothing but apologies and explanations?
Her finger tapped against the phone while she tried to phrase her concerns gently. But nothing came to mind, and she was about to drop the topic when Izzy's voice came stumbling through the speaker in a rush.
"You do know that I miss you, right? And that I'm- I'm very- Very fond of you."
Amy clapped a hand over her mouth to contain a strangled giggle. She was struck simultaneously with the desire to laugh and to cry, resulting in a gurgling croak that ran somewhere in the middle. She struggled for control, then wiped her eyes and said, "I know. Don't let me forget."
Izzy offered a muttered agreement, then reminded her that her shift started soon. They said their goodbyes, and Amy lowered her phone and stared at Izzy's text again.
The alarm warning her to head towards the pickup area sounded, and Amy rose, smiled, and pocketed the phone, promising herself that she would call him again that evening.
Another Day
Mimi looked to the left, then to the right. Then she grabbed Sora's arm to prevent herself from jumping up and down.
"This. Is. Amazing!" she squealed. She, Sora, and Matt were standing in a cavernous room with concrete floors and industrial lighting. They were attending a fashion convention, the sort of thing you had to know someone to attend- And both she and Sora had contacts, now.
Excitement hummed over her skin like a shiver. Just a few weeks ago, Mimi had no direction, no goals other than enjoying herself. Now she had an internship, a budding career, and connections, those magical passports to a kind of life she had only heard whispers of before now.
"Look at those fabrics," Sora sighed. Mimi followed her glance to a booth covered with draping silks in Japanese patterns. Matt grinned as Sora dragged him over, but Mimi lagged behind, getting drunk on the atmosphere.
The convention was buzzing, filled with vendors, patrons, movement, and high-energy music. It was just the sort of place Mimi liked to be, and her good mood elevated her to prime looks. No less than four modeling agencies had pressed their cards into her hand, and two had nearly dragged her into their booths to introduce her to whoever was in charge.
Mimi sighed blissfully and stepped up beside Matt. He was bent over the fabrics with Sora, giving a ridiculously informed opinion on the colors and shapes. He lifted a sample for a better look, and Mimi tried not to giggle. The slight motion was enough to pull the thin fabric of his shirt taut against his torso.
A woman in a sexy pencil skirt and a tight blouse clacked by on heels, and Mimi turned, half-expecting another employment offer. But she rushed by her and went to Matt. Mimi squealed as the woman tried to offer him her card.
Matt handed the fabric off to Sora and tried to look nonchalant, but his smirk betrayed a well-stroked male ego. Mimi started giggling, and the sound seemed to break through Sora's control. Matt's grin faded under the flood of female laughter, and he turned the woman away more directly.
"It wasn't that funny," he muttered.
A Few Hours Later
Mimi fell into a cafeteria chair with a groan. She was having an amazing time, but her feet were starting to mutiny, sending jabs of pain up her leg with each step.
"I can't move," she groaned. Matt lifted his upper body from the table with visible effort.
"What do you ladies want to eat? I'll stand in line."
"Matt," Sora sighed, taking his hand in hers. "You're an angel."
"Funny," he replied with a smirk. "That's what the third modeling agent said."
Sora folded her arms on the table and collapsed against them. "Mimi, I don't have the energy to smack him."
"Nope," Mimi replied. "He's getting off this time." Matt grinned, took their orders, and left for the nearest concession stand.
For a while, Mimi and Sora sat in a stupor, despite the people flowing around their table. Eventually, Mimi recovered enough to think about something other than her aching feet.
"Maybe it's good that Amy isn't here. She wouldn't have survived an hour of this."
Sora lifted her head enough to reveal her eyes. "Hm. I don't know. I think her outdoor work is toughening her up a little."
"Oh? Have you heard much from her lately?" Mimi asked. "You know, I got the weirdest texts from her. She was asking for swimsuit and belt recommendations!"
"That's... An odd combination," Sora said. "She called me the other day. We talked for a pretty long time, actually."
Mimi expected more to follow, and she poked Sora when the silence stretched on too long. "Sorry," Sora sighed. "It's just... She seemed so... fragile. Apparently this girl in her research group is giving her a hard time."
"Oh, you mean Angela?" Mimi said, scowling against her upper arm. "Yeah. I heard about her. Sounds like an alpha girl, you know? Willing to claw someone else down to climb up a notch."
"I hope she'll be okay..."
"Oh, don't worry," Mimi said. "This is Amy. Girl's got grit and brains. And if she's keeping in contact with us, then she'll be fine."
"You're right," Sora said, smiling. "But still, I'll be happy when everyone comes back. I think it's been hard for her."
"Yeah," Mimi sighed. "I think you're right."
They attempted a few more subjects, but quickly lapsed into silence. By the time Matt returned with their food, they had passed out against the table.
Another Day
Amy knew there was a problem the moment she left her dorm room. It was about two o'clock in the afternoon, when most of the students were out and about before their night shifts. But the sound of chattering and giggling echoed down the hallway, betraying the presence of lingering kids.
Amy halted just before the entrance to the community room. She identified the voices as those of Angela and her friends, loudly holding court in there. Amy grit her teeth and considered her options.
The dorm's exit was beyond the community lounge, so she would have to climb the stairs, cross the hall above, come down the stairs, and reach the exit from the opposite side to avoid Angela. Amy decided that Angela wasn't worth taking that step, but only after careful consideration. She walked into the lounge, staring straight ahead and moving fast. On the third step, that low, familiar voice called her name. Amy couldn't help scowling as she pivoted to face Angela.
The community lounge was a large room filled with ratty, dented furniture assembled around a box television. Angela was in the corner, surrounded by her friends and sitting hip to hip with a familiar-looking young boy.
Angela called her again, but Amy stood rooted to the spot. A wave of cold slid over her body, then gave way to feverish heat. She felt a bit light-headed when she finally obeyed the summons. That boy… Could it really be…
Angela's sparkling smile was back. She leaned into the boy until her curves smushed flat against his side. "Amy, This is my boyfriend, Ramon. He flew in to visit me this morning. Isn't he the sweetest?"
Amy's lips lifted by degrees, as if a mechanical contraption controlled them. "Nice to meet you," she said, and Ramon answered with a smirk. He looked exactly how she remembered him, all ripped clothes, exposed wiry muscles, and scruffy facial hair.
Angela sighed blissfully and rested her head on his shoulder. "I told baby how much I wanted to see him, and how down I was about missing our monthiversary, so he flew down... Even though his parents told him not to!"
She looked jubilant and triumphant, so Amy knew she couldn't give her true opinion. "What do you do?" she asked Ramon, fishing for a safe topic.
He lifted an eyebrow, but said nothing. "What are you talking about?" Angela said. She rolled her eyes and pried herself off of her boyfriend. It might have been her imagination, but Amy thought she heard a sticky, peeling sound as their skin parted.
Amy wasn't sure which one of them to make eye contact with, since she was talking to Ramon but being answered by Angela. "Well, Ramon must have bought his own plane ticket. I was wondering what your job is."
Angela grabbed Ramon's arm for support while she laughed. "Oh, sweetie. No." She waved a hand dismissively. "We just use our credit cards."
Paid off by the same parents who don't want you seeing one another? Amy's disapproval must have shown, because Angela scowled and turned the subject.
"Baby's going to take me out for our monthiversary tonight, so can you tell Dr. Johnson that I'm sick?"
Amy's lips clamped together so hard that it probably looked like she had swallowed a lemon. "I can tell her where you are, but I'm not going to lie."
"Never mind," Angela said crossly. "I'll ask someone else. If you're going to be that way, don't mention me at all."
Yes, because I'm in the habit of giving everyone updates on your life. Amy inclined her head and took a step back, but stopped when Angela started speaking again.
"Baby's going to take me to the fanciest place around. Might have to be in a cab for three hours in the middle of this cow country, but-"
"Enjoy yourselves," Amy said. She wasn't about to stick around for more of this, so she turned and left the room, ignoring the obnoxious giggles that followed her exit.
She strode through the dorm entrance, and the heat of the sidewalk seeped up through her shoes. Her lungs filled with wet, heavy air. Amy blinked towards the sun and sighed. She couldn't recall where she wanted to go, so she started walking towards the cafeteria.
As her body struggled through the heat, Amy's mind sank into its own miserable desert. Why was it that Angela could draw her boyfriend here, but she could not?
Author's Note: And there you go! Lots of little scenes, just to give you a glimpse of what's going on with everyone.
Next chapter contains some serious drama llamas! Also, more Dyani.
Seeking Resonance will receive an update next weekend :) Thanks for reading!
