Something Just Like This || [ON HOLD]

10 April 2017 | 👙

"YOU'RE KIDDING ME," I accuse, lips begging to curl into a smile as I twist around to bring my gaze level with Graham's wide-eyed stare.

"What," he begins, "is so unbelievable about me studying engineering?"

"You don't seem like the party type."

Graham raises a golden eyebrow. "I didn't take you to be the stereotype type."

"I'm not," I assert, even though everyone knows Engineering is the party faculty and that their fraternities get up to the wildest shenanigans.

"It's starting to sound like you are."

The lazy smile Graham's wearing confirms he's just messing with me, and I roll my green eyes at him. "Just admit it— numbers aren't exciting enough for you, so you need to indulge in the thrill of wild frat parties."

Graham laughs, running a hand through his wavy hair, which flings back into place as soon as his touch is gone. "They're enough for you then?" he asks, curiosity lacing his words.

"Yes," I say, winking at him. "I like numbers— I was reciting integrals in Grade Four, back when all the other kids were still hung up on times-tables."

"So what you're saying now is that you're a stereo-typer and a show-off."

I throw my head back in laughter, taking in a deep breath of chlorine scented air once I'm out of breath. Something about being with Graham makes feeling good—feeling happy— so easy it's almost scary in the same way cruising down the freeway on a sunny summer's day is so fun, so freeing, yet so dangerous. At any second, the temptation to hit the gas can become so overwhelming that you find yourself losing control. When I'm with Graham, I feel like I'm walking at the edge of the fine line between fun and reckless.

But I'm also laughing at the irony of his words. I have nothing to show off about, not really. Academic probation leaves a scar arguably deeper than any knife ever could. After my first attempt at first year, I became obsessive about studying, practically forcing myself to memorize everything word for word between the two covers of my textbooks until I learned that was not the best way to study. Slowly, I learned the right way (or the way that worked for me, at least), but the obsession never died.

My tight curls tickle the side of my cheeks as I shake my head. Looking over at Graham, I tuck a couple auburn locks behind my ear. "Math doesn't come easy to me," I admit. "It never has. I had to work my ass off to make it to fourth year."

Graham's quiet for a moment, eyes narrowing as he studies me, presumably trying to gauge whether I'm just being modest or actually telling the truth. "Well, I think that's admirable," he finally says. "It's a waste of time and money, in my opinion, when people choose a major just because it's easy for them."

"I definitely don't fall into that boat," I say with a smile.

"I'm glad. So now that I've flattered you, we can skip to the part where you tell me about all the wild parties you've been to and crazy stuff you've done to make up for the tediousness of studying statistics."

"Excuse me?" I chuckle, shooting the blonde boy next to me a look of shock.

"Your logic," he justifies, holding his hands up in a sign of withdrawal, "not mine."

"I've only ever been to one party. It wasn't even a frat party, and I hated it."

"Have you ever thought that maybe that's why you hated it?" Graham asks.

I roll my eyes. "No, of course not. It's the people you're with who make it fun, and none of my friends are really the party type. Plus, I see no fun in having a hangover the next morning, and people look at you all weird if you're the only sober one at a campus party."

Graham nods, accepting this. "Hangovers aren't fun," he agrees, gaze drifting to the pool below.

"So... which one's your friend?"

"Guy with the really short, light hair," Graham says, pointing a finger to a young man doing the breast stroke in one of the lanes sectioned off for serious swimmers. From what I can see, his build is about as athletic as Graham's, if not more so.

"How's sticking to a strict swim schedule been going?" I inquire.

Graham chuckles softly, twisting around to face me. "He was the one to wake me on Friday. Decided he wanted to come early. The bloody bloke came into my room at six a.m. with a fog horn to wake me up. I don't know why he wanted to come so early, but we were here by seven thirty."

"Well... you sound like a good friend. I don't think I would do the same."

"Yeah, well.... I'd rather have come later so I'd have seen you."

I feel my cheeks heat up as I make a futile attempt at fighting back a smile. "I have class from eight until nine on Fridays." Then, as an afterthought, I add, "I guess had would be more appropriate now."

"I guess so."

"Are you still going to be coming here once classes end?" I ask, trying to sound casual. Even though he was the one who just admitted being disappointed about not getting to see me.

"I'm a grad student, April. The work never ends for me," he teases. "So, yes, I'll be around, hauling Brendan up here with me."

"Just thought I'd ask," I say, shrugging my shoulders and throwing on my best devious expression. "For all I know, you could be staying at home planning all the wild parties you're going to throw over the summer."

Graham lets out a short, quick breath, his lips twisting into a smirk. "After all the mocking you've done, don't be surprised if you don't get an invite."