Summer of Like // Farleigh Start x OC

1: Bitter Regrets; Predictable Forfeits

"Yes... New York, that's correct. JFK, if that's possible, but LaGuardia works too if... you're sure the closest flight you have is next Monday?" I run a hand down my face, and flop back against my dorm bed, cell phone wedged between my shoulder and my ear. "Sure, fuck it, put me on a waitlist. Yes, call me if a seat opens up... yes, this number is the quickest way to reach me." I stare up at the ceiling as the receptionist talks, her polite, Britishness, beginning to grate. "Yes, thank you. Bye."

    I snap my phone closed and toss it as far away from me as I can with a groan. It's sweltering, it's exam week, and I can't get a fucking flight home to Brooklyn for the life of me. The dorm is half packed - clothes and shoes from the winter stowed away in trunks, along with all of the non-essentials (decor and trinkets and the like). The rest of my belongings are scattered around, collateral damage from the mess of the last weeks of school. I long for the streets of New York - I haven't had a bodega sandwich in almost a year. "If I have to stay on this stuffy-ass pretentious campus for even a week longer than I have to I might just slit my wrists in the fucking bath." I say, mostly to the ceiling. I am so tired of Cambridge.

    "Jesus, Evie."

    I sit up to look at Venetia - my flatmate, and one of my only friends here. She's one of the prettiest girls I've ever seen. She's maybe the only person in the world that can make bottle blonde look high end. Somehow she toes the line between cute and sexy without seeming like she's trying too hard - on anyone else, dark grunge eye makeup and a button nose would look silly, but on her... she's like Helen of Troy in Saint Laurent sunglasses. She's a good angel sent to make my year at Cambridge so, so much easier. It's hard to make friends as an American exchange student at one of the most pretentious English schools in the world. Harder still when Venetia is also something of an outcast herself. I don't care much though - she's worth ten of these other British schoolgirls. "Sorry."

    She barely glances up at me, too busy filing her nails into rounded almond points at my desk, little flakes of old nail polish falling all over my schoolwork scattered there. "It's your own fault for leaving it until exam week."

    "I know." I say. I really should have booked a flight back home sooner, but it's hard to remember to do anything else when you're drowning in schoolwork and vodka at the same time. "I just didn't think it would be such a pain in the ass to get home. I mean really, it's like the whole fucking country's just decided to go to New York. I'm on seven waitlists to fly economy, V. And I still have finals to do."

    She grins down at her fingernails. "New Yawk." She snickers, mocking my accent. "Still so American, even after a whole year here."

    "Might be two years if I don't get a flight home." I grumble, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. "What color are you doing this time?"

    Venetia holds up two bottles - one a dark gray, one more of a silver. "I'm thinking gunmetal underneath, silver on top." She says conversationally, turning back to the desk to focus on her nails. "You could always come to Saltburn with me."

    "What?" I say, taken aback by her nonchalance. "V- c'mon. I can't just go live in your family's castle at the last minute, I mean, we leave campus in like two days." These rich kids - I swear they think anything can happen at the snap of their pretty fingers. And she does have quite pretty fingers.

    She shrugs. "It's not that big of a deal - I mean, Felix brings someone home every year. Never the same person either." She grins. "He's a bit of a slut - in that way."

    "We leave campus in two days." I repeat. Venetia - for all her lovely qualities - sometimes forgets about the logistics of things. I mean, if I was fuck-off rich, I'm sure I would too, but there just isn't enough time for arrangements to be made for me to stay at her family's mansion. It's a generous offer, but... "I don't want to just show up V, that's so presumptuous. Rude, even. And I've got a whole year's worth of stuff with me, I can't just lug it all to your house."

    "But you so totally can." Venetia says, swiping nail polish over her fingertips. "There are at least six bedrooms that no one uses Evie, it would be no problem at all. And there's more than enough room for all your luggage. Really, the house is just begging to have more people in it - why do you think Mum throws so many parties? The place is too empty - and it's so boring over the summer, really you'd be doing us both a favor Evie, please?" She turns her head, batting her long eyelashes at me.

    God, she's pretty. Too pretty for her own good. But- "I don't want to intrude - I wouldn't know anyone but you, V. It'd be awkward." I say. I really would rather not feel out of place for a whole summer when I could be eating delicious bodega sandwiches with my friends that I haven't seen in a year.

    "Please Evelyn?" She pleads again, this time using my full name. She only ever uses my full name when she really wants something. "It's the perfect solution - you don't have to stress about getting home, and I'll finally have a friend to bring for the summer. I'll have someone to talk to besides Felix and whatever poor soul he brings."

    "I can't, V. It's too last minute - I don't want to intrude. I can't." I say.

    She sighs, a long, drawn out thing that sinks into my chest and twists around my heart in that way that only she can do. My determination to go home falters. Would it be so bad to stay in England for the summer? I'm already here - it's not like I'd have to fly (and fight with the airline). The whole point I came to study abroad at Cambridge was to experience English culture, and what better way to do it than to stay in a giant fuck-off castle for a few months? And she seems so... desperate, really. I've always sort of been able to tell that she's never had many friends just by the way she acts - and how the other girls here act around her - and the way she talks about how her brother always brings someone home makes me think that she's a little jealous.

    "You're sure it wouldn't be too last minute?" I ask.

    Her face lights up, and she turns around in her seat again. "Not at all - the guest bedrooms are always made up anyway, it wouldn't even be an issue. And it would be such fun to have you there, Evie - Mum will be so excited that I've brought a friend home. And Farleigh will finally have another American to talk to - it'll be great, promise!"