Jumping
The sunlight streams through the white curtains, and makes my eyes squint. My body is aching everywhere, and I have a pounding headache. I feel the steady beat of my heart in my ears, and my lips are dry. Instantly, I scold myself for the amount that I drank yesterday, and the early hours of today. My eyes are sticky. I don't want to wake up, I don't want to face the world today.
Small flashbacks come into my mind for fleeting moments, and then rush off again before I manage to pursue them. I catch small bits of dialogue. There are many brightly coloured lights, and people keep talking, too loud, so I reach to cover my ears. My limbs disapprove, and I am definitely awake now. I slowly open my eyes, still squinting. It hurts, and I cover them again. Everything in my room is yellow. I feel awful, and yet everything outside is happy. For one passing moment, I want to reprimand the world for being so happy, and then I realise I am rambling and trying to abstain from opening my eyes again. I am being stupid.
I suddenly become aware of the sleeping woman next to me. Ah, Lauren. She breathes steadily, and her fingers tangle in her limp blond hair. I think of what those fingers did to me, and smile. This game is just too easy.
I need to get up. I turn my head towards the alarm clock, but the sun reflects off the screen. Was that a three or an eight? I reach blindly for it, and shove it in front of my face, for my vision is still blurry from sleep.
Three o' four. I wonder what time I got home last night, for this was a record. I mentally make a to-do list for today. Firstly, get rid of Lauren. As a woman, she was fucking clingy. It is a Monday, and I don't have to go to university until next Wednesday. I smile. But I still need to find an apartment. Edward.
Fuck. Oh God, I was late. My eyes widen, and I shoot up from the bed. I quickly recheck the clock, wishing that it was lying, but it wasn't. It stood there, almost intimidating, blinking its little black dots.
I thrust open the wardrobe, banging it loudly against the wall. I cringe, for it was loud enough to wake Lauren. I don't care though. I need this apartment.
"Jasper, what are you doing?" Lauren's voice lazily drifts towards me, muffled from the pillow. I get irritated that she doesn't see the urgency, so I don't bother to reply.
Unfortunately, she tries again.
"Why are you in such a hurry?" her voice is clearer now. I hesitate. Why am I in such a hurry? If I'm late, it's not my problem. Edward can deal with it. I slow down my actions, still ignoring Lauren.
The bed shifts, and I hear the soft trail of the sheets on the floor. I feel Lauren's presence behind me. She kisses my neck rather awkwardly, and runs a hand from my shoulder blades to the small of my back. I shiver, but I don't want to do this again.
I move off, slinging a rumpled blue t-shirt over my head. I slide on my pants, feeling her curious eyes on me. Searching for some socks, I spot my white sneakers and put them on. Then I grab my car keys, phone and wallet and stuff them in my pockets. I make myself face Lauren.
"I have to go. You can let yourself out," with that, I turn and head out of the room.
*****
Edward lives in a quiet street that is quite close to the university. His house is one of many nearly identical ones. I notice that he lives near families- most of them have MPVs, with bumper stickers saying things like 'Dad's Taxi'. I snicker at the things I'm used to doing, and I think that the neighbours would not appreciate me coming home drunk at 2am, singing You'll Never Walk Alone or something along the lines.
I park on the pavement, not wanting to intrude on his driveway, even though there is ample space. His Volvo stands inconspicuously, neatly parked near to the hedge. The front garden is simple, the small groups of weeds being the only sign of untidiness.
I think I'm jumping too far ahead, for I have no plan if he won't let me live here. For some reason, I think my cockiness will not work on him. He took my annoyance and threw it back in my face last night. And now I was late. Half an hour late, to be precise. With that, I suck in a breath and smile and try to get the confidence that normally comes naturally to me. I press the doorbell.
He comes almost instantly, as if he's been waiting. I see his misted body through the door panes, turning the key. His hair looks slightly long and coppery. I don't make out his face until he opens the door.
"You're late," he states bluntly, as if I haven't noticed. His voice matches his face perfectly. The sunlight highlights the reddish tones in his hair. His bronze strands partially cover his forehead, but I can see that it is creased. His face is manly, angular and sharp. His brow is not too heavy, but his jaw is rather prominent. He almost looks beautiful, I want to say, but I can't.
"Yeah, I ran into some traffic. I did want to call you, but I didn't write your number down," I say frankly, annoyed and slightly jealous of his intimidation. I'm not going to let him intimidate me.
He saw straight through it.
"Right," he chuckles with a smile. Thankfully, he decides to let it go. "Come in, and I'll show you round," he steps to allow me room. I notice his striking green eyes. They were electric.
His house smells of musk and himself. It's tidy and spacious, with only the slightest objects of his personal life showing. There were only one or two photos, only one or two books lying about. One of them was a medical journal.
The room I'm going to have is larger than my old one. It's dark blue, although I don't care much for colour. My eyes zoom in on a stereo system, and he says I'm free to use it. I also notice I have a double bed. I smile inwardly.
Then he shows me his bedroom. It is black and gold, and in one corner, a grand piano stands proudly. Music composition books are strewn on top.
"You play?"
"Well why else would I have a big brute of expensive Steinway in my room?" he replies playfully, and his eyes twinkle in the sunlight. I immediately regret asking such an obvious question.
We eventually find ourselves in the living room again. He tells me to sit.
"So, what do you think?" he asks.
"I like it. It's good, spacious, you know," is all I can muster.
"So you are going to go to the university then?"
"Yeah, a psych degree. I guess you're a med?" my elocution is nothing against his. He chuckles again.
"Yes, sorry," he picks the book up and puts in on a shelf while I wonder why he is apologising.
"I'm gonna take it," I'm amazed by the confidence in my voice. I speculate what I have just thrown myself into. Our only conversations were this one and the one on the phone. He looks surprised.
"Right. Well, I will have to send off your details. I still don't know your name," he raises his eyebrows.
"Jasper. Jasper Whitlock."
"Well Jasper, when would you like to move in? Saturday looks good," he suggests. My name sounds foreign on his tongue. I want him to say it again.
"Yeah, let's do Saturday."
And that is that. I leave feeling strangely elated, relieved. I find myself impatient for Saturday.