If there's one thing Suzy Lestrange is hoping for, it's getting through her second year of university without a hitch, so that she can spend her third year abroad in France.
But when Harry Styles shows up in her life once again, she quickly finds he...
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Thursday, 26th of January, 2015
"Poetry is fucking confusing."
I let out a snort of laughter. "Hah, Naomi, you're just saying that 'cause—" I stopped suddenly and almost let out a squeak as the student I was walking behind stopped without warning. I swerved around them, and picked up the pace so I was beside Naomi once more. "I can guarantee if Professor Schmidt gave you a decent poem to work with, you'd be loving every second of it."
"No, if my poem was called anything other than Spleen, all would be okay," Naomi huffed, throwing her free hand in the air while the other clutched onto her books. "Who even calls a poem that? Poetry is supposed to be pretty and tasteful, not titled something like Spleen. What's next, Pancreas?"
"I don't quite think that's what it's about," I pointed out, trying to hold back my laughter at her frustration. "Charles Baudelaire's poetry is filled symbolism everywhere you turn, so just dig deeper and I'm sure you'll find the hidden meaning."
When I arrived back in Oxford after my holiday break, I was greeted by a fourth person living in our shared flat. Mila, Violet and I had always lived in a four room shared flat, but it had been unoccupied for as long as we could remember. Anxiety instilled inside me at the thought of someone new learning my daily routines and seeing me at my worst, but when one of my classmates walked out her room with the biggest smile, my anxiety made a quick escape.
I didn't have a lot of classes with Naomi, but if we did see each other outside of classes, we would happily greet each other and see how we were going — in both life and coursework related instances. There was also more than one occasion where we had gotten a few drunken selfies together, so we really weren't completely unknown to one another. It made me happy having another friendly face around, even if it did make things more crowded around our flat at times. But Naomi was absolutely lovely. She was full of charisma and charm, and exuded a bunch of confidence that I only envied.
My phone beeped from inside my pocket, so I pulled it out to find a message from Violet. Not wanting to be rude, I quickly tapped out a reply as I said, "Violet's already at Vaults."
"Right, we better get a move on so we don't leave her hanging for too long," Naomi said as we both picked up our pace. "Also, just so you know, I get the symbolic nature of Baudelaire's work; it's just a bit confusing sometimes, y'know? But you should be happy you get an exciting poem!"
"Just because the title is Get Drunk, it does not mean that's not what it's solely about. Need I remind you about the symbolism?" Naomi wasn't looking at me directly, but I imagine she would've rolled her eyes — she did that a lot, I had learned. "It's more about losing your inhibitions. Y'know, live life with no restrictions and all that jazz. It's really quite interes—"
I stopped mid-sentence as I spotted a very familiar face walking out of an office building nearby. I had to double check my eyes weren't deceiving me, but as soon as his eyes scanned the open area and fell upon mine, I knew I wasn't just seeing things. A visible swear escaped his lips, and the thudding of my heart against my ribcage hurt much more than I would ever willingly admit.
