I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to get this done, I've been crazy busy. Hope you enjoy this chapter.
She got home and dumped her bag at the foot of her bed, and then let herself fall forwards onto it. It was unmade, but at least unoccupied. Part of her had expected to come back and find Joe still tucked in there, dosing away. Not that she'd actually have minded, but it would have that she couldn't crash out here like this, which was exactly what she wanted to do at that moment.
Her eyes were shut tight against the brightness of west-facing window in the late afternoon, and she only opened them because the creasing of her frown was starting to give her a headache. When she did, something on the opposite wall caught her eye. Fastened to her noticeboard with a single pin was an A4 piece of lined paper, written on in pencil, just too faintly to see from her. Curious, she stood up and walked to the wall.
She read the single sentence it bore, unfastened it from the wall, read it again and smiled, softly. Without it being signed, she knew exactly whose handwriting it was.
Can we talk properly tonight?
She smiled at the paper, putting it down on her pillow, straightening the large shirt she was wearing over her tank top absent-mindedly. And then her smile faded. Oh Christ, she was actually going to have to talk about this, wasn't she. She sighed heavily, sitting back down on the edge of her bed, picking the piece of paper again and holding it between her thumb and her fore-finger, as much just to hold it as to look at it.
The truth was that she didn't know what she wanted to say to him when they did talk. Usually it was the case that she knew exactly what she wanted to say but wanted to avoid the inevitable repercussions of honesty. Normally a great deal of certainty was there, but this time it was distinctly lacking. The only thing she could actually say for certain was that she had spent the vast majority of the class she had hurried to thinking about the way he'd kissed her when they were still back in this room.
Which in itself was absolutely not on. Not in three years had she spent a class in such a state of distraction, over a boy. Well, a man, really, now, they had both grown up at some point, it seemed. But the point was, she had never allowed sex, or romance, or whatever the hell kissing Joseph after they'd crashed out together counted as, to interfere with her work. Ever. It was not on, it was not the way she did things. She was going to get a first, there was no question about it in here mind. She had to. But she would not if she spent the time between now and finals dreaming away. She was going to have to talk to him. She sighed again, putting the paper down on her pillow.
There was no point in putting this off. Well, there was, put that point was wholly cowardly, and she had no time for being cowardly. She would go and see if he was in now.
For some reason, she picked up the paper again as she stood up and went out into the corridor. She made her was down the two flights of stairs and round the corner to his door. She knocked, and there was a moment before he opened it. When he did, she was standing there, simply holding up the piece of paper so he could see the words he himself had written. Can we talk properly tonight? He smiled at her, probably inferring from her face that she did not know how else to start.
"Come in," he told her, stepping aside and holding the door open for her, telling her with a slightly conspiratorial smirk, "Jeremy is out at the pub."
"Thank god for that," she replied, stepping past him into his room.
His room was smarter than hers was as a result of having less in it and being slightly bigger. There was an armchair there that there hadn't been room for in hers, and he indicated that she should sit in it if she wanted to. She smiled to herself, thinking that he wouldn't need to risk her falling asleep in his bed tonight. He sat down on the bed himself, facing her at a right-angle, leaving forwards a little.
"How was your class?" he asked her.
"Alright," she replied dismissively, "Not my best."
He smiled apologetically at her.
"Bit tired?" he asked.
"Probably," she told him, "After last night."
"I'm sorry," he told her again, "I should have gone sooner."
"I've told you, it doesn't matter," she answered, "You gave me a lift."
There was a moment's silence. Both of them grasped their hands gently, a little awkwardly, together.
"Listen," she finally managed to say, "What happened this morning-…"
"I'm sorry," he told her quickly, he seemed to have been getting ready to say it all day, "I overstepped a mark."
"Did you?" she asked in reply, as much to herself as to him, tipping her head thoughtfully to the side a moment, "Well, perhaps you did. But it doesn't matter, I didn't-… mind, per se-…"
She watched his face. He looked confused, and maybe a little relieved. Or hopeful.
"Look, Joe, whatever you do, don't worry about this morning, or last night," she told him firmly, "I had a nice evening, and a nice morning. So please don't worry."
"Alright," he replied, giving her a little smile that led her know she had consoled him, "Thanks."
They both paused. There was an air of the unfinished about their conversation, but neither of them seemed to know exactly how to proceed. Damn it, she'd only had one piece of paper to get them started, what she needed was another now.
"I've been wondering," he broke into her thoughts, a welcome interruption to the present disorder, speaking in a softly, slow, slightly shy voice, "If you're going to the end of term ball?"
"Yeah, Anna booked us all tickets," she reminded him.
He nodded.
"I was wondering if you'd like to go with me," he asked her, in a very fluid way, as if forcing all of the words out at once to ensure that he didn't bail out once he'd started, "You know, as, sort of, a pair," he clarified, in something closer to his earlier faltering way.
She sat there for a moment, in a state of considerable surprise. This had suddenly become very… courtly. She bit back an amused smile; it had obviously taken him a great deal of courage to get the words out, to seem to laugh in any way would be very unfair to him.
"It could just be the one night, if you wanted," he chipped in, "No pressure at all. I know you probably haven't got a lot of time at the moment for, you know, anything like this. I just thought it could be nice if we went out that one time together-…"
"Hang on, Joe," she told him gently, holding up her hand to silence and soothe him, "Give me a second."
"Right, sure."
He sat there in very contained silence that threatened to make her smile again, so she looked at the opposite wall as she turned the offer over in her mind.
"The thing is, Joe," she explained at last, "I can't get involved with anyone, at all, until after finals."
"That's fair enough," he replied swiftly, nodding with a little more conviction than the slight dejection on his face really allowed for.
"I'm sorry," she went on as delicately as she could, "But it's not something I can even think about at the minute, I just haven't got the space in my brain for it. Christ, even today-…" she trailed off, thinking it would be kind but also possibly injudicious to let on to him that she had spent almost the entirety of her class thinking about him. But he was intuitive, he probably caught on anyway, and so she pressed on, "But afterwards, is different. I've got a few weeks before I start my job," she explained,"And I think that going to the ball at the end of term, with you, is something that I'd enjoy quite a lot."
He was disguising that smile very poorly.
"It'll be fun," he told her.
"Yeah, I think it will be," she replied, smiling back at him, "And we do have that appointment to get outstandingly drunk together, remember?"
"I'm not likely to forget," he answered, "I'm looking forward to it."
She grinned.
"That's good."
She hesitated for a brief contented moment before she told him, regretfully; "I really should go and do some more revision."
"No, I know, me too," he agreed, "At least you went to class this morning, I spent most of in napping."
She laughed, standing up.
"Lucky bastard," she told him, and he laughed too.
He went to the door before her, opening it, only a little way. He seemed to have suddenly had a final thought and she was about to ask him what was wrong when he turned back to her, his hand still on the handle of the slightly opened door.
"I have thought about what you said," he informed her, "And I was thinking, you know, why not apply?"
The corners of her mouth turned upwards.
"Good," she replied softly.
He seemed further bolstered by her approval.
"I mean, what harm can it do," he asked her, "Just applying?"
"Exactly," she replied, reaching beyond him to open the door herself, "What harm?" before leaving the room and making her way back up the stairs to hers.
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