Sirius
"James!" I call from where I am sprawled across the god awful plaid lounge set we'd found on the footpath outside our flat. When there's no response I call out again, this time a little louder. "Prongs!"
"What do you want?" he sticks his head out of the bathroom door, water still clinging to his dark shoulders.
"Where are you going again?"
"I've told you four times you tosser," he calls back, dissapearing into the bathroom, probably in search of pants.
"Well tell me again,"
"I have a Latin paper to write with some lanky bloke in my class so he's got a quiet table at the library,"
"Oi, if he's hot, gimme his number,"
"You really are desperate,"
"Yeah I know," I roll my eyes adn hear him clattering around the bathroom, knocking things over in pursuit of his specs, "Oi, what time are you going to be back?"
"Probably before three, why?" he comes out with jeans slung low on his hips and his hands busy toweling his hair.
"Can you get me some fish and chips on your way back?"
"If you wanna give me the three pound eighty for it,"
"Mate, it's your shout," he drops the towel around his shoulders and cocks an eyebrow.
"And how do you figure that?"
"I got Evan's number for you. If it turns into anything, you are going to owe me a lot more than a three pound eighty serving of fish and chips," he grunts and I laugh.
"Fine," he pulls a white t-shirt over his head , readjusting his glasses on his nose, squinting a little.
"Thanks mate, you're a champ,"
"Oh bugger off," his voice is grumpy but he's obviously trying to stop himself from chuckling. He slings the strap of his satchel across his torso and grabs an apple from the bowl. "See you later, fruit bat,"
"See you later, fruit cake," he groans, slamming the door that is prone to jamming, sending flakes of old white paint flying in every direction. I turn back to the list of tv shows on my laptop and my hand half heartedly reaches into the bag of crisps that's lying between my thigh and the back of the lounge.
James
To be honest, I didn't even want to be taking Latin but it was either Latin or Ancient and Medieval China, which included a lot of words that I can never remember how to spell - which makes the fact that I chose Latin ironic.
The library was quiet, which is not surprising for ten on a Saturday morning. Considering I couldn't even remeber the bloke's name, the fact that he was the only one sitting at a desk was what saved me from utter embarassment.
"Hello," he says before I have a chance. He stands up, clumsily bumping the table, causing his face to flush red. I grasp his hand and shake it once before releasing him.
"Hey, I'm James,"
"Remus," I take off my bag and sit across the table from him.
"So, where do you want to start?" I ask and he takes a deep breath.
"I usually start any assignment by planning it, so if you want to start with that, that would be great,"
"Oh thank God," he looks at me in shock.
"Sorry, my best mate is the exact opposite and it drives me mental. He's doing European Social and Political Studies and whenever he has an assignment, there are sheets of notes to be found all over our flat," he laughs nervously and I offer a smile.
For the next hour we plan each section of our paper in depth which would have taken me a day to do on my own. When he excuses himself to use the loo I take out my phone and send a message to Sirius.
Hey Pads, This guy is a genius
You also said that the guy who thought of frying asparagus was a genius so forgive me if I don't take your word for it.
No seriously. His method of breaking down the assignment is phenomenal.
Okay, Professor, go dry out your knickers.
Don't be gross.
It's in my nature
Go back to whatever horrid american procedural cop drama you were watching.
one more thing
What?
Is he hot?
Go away