The Exact Opposite of a Growing Perpetuity

Chapter Eight

8

#tumemanques

"Ya skoro priyedu." I said into the speaker of my earphones. The elevator doors ching and then open, revealing no other than James Castellanos and your famous black backpack. You didn't sport your usual attire; a dress shirt topped with a sweater and a pair of jeans. You were wearing a striped t-shirt under a dark washed jean jacket. I like stripes.

I smiled at you, still focusing on the phone call with my mother. You looked at me and made your way into the library after I told you where I was sat. You had texted me earlier and suggested that we studied at the university's library instead of Starbucks. Good choice. It didn't seem like we got any work done in the café anyway.

"Davay, ya poydu. Lyublyu tebya." I pressed my thumb onto the red decline button, wrapped the earphones around the phone and slipped it into my butt pocket. Pushing the library glass doors open with the uneven annoying Christmas poster down the middle of the right door. Wasn't it too soon for that? My eyes scanned the room for you as I entered further. You were in the corner, your favorite spot by the shelves.

"I'm sorry. It was my mom. I'm going to have to leave you for a few minutes as I go back home, but I'll be back. I just need to drop off some money that got sent to us by my father from abroad." I told you as I pulled the chair out and slid into it.

"Everything is all right?" You asked, your eyes were watching every movement I made which made me wonder what was that all about.

"Yeah, everything's fine. I texted the cab driver and he's on the way. It's just that I don't want to carry around that much money on me. You know?"

"Yeah, I get that!" You smiled, your cupid lip deforming into a straighter line. Your teeth submerging your lips. You tried to mimic some words from the conversation I had with my mother earlier.

"Don't you just hate it when we try to speak your language?" You guffawed, almost choking on your own words. I smiled at the ridiculousness of your happiness as it warmed my heart. I could feel the beats in my ears. Loud, breathy, and perhaps too fast.

"Not really," I stated, my hand swiping up the blonde strands from my face. "As long as they're not racist about it or making faces like when I try to speak your language. Then I'm all good."

"That's fair."

It was silent for a while. The only sound was emanating from the pages of your certification text book as you flipped through them and took notes on the notepad I had given you. I tried to focus on my own note-making, but you wasting that high-quality lined paper that I had purchased abroad from my resident town on some scribbles with your terrible chicken handwriting, distracted me.

"You know you're rather entertaining smoke-free and weed-free." You broke the silence. I had almost reacted with an excuse-me? but I have done enough teasing for the day and should reserve some for later. I did try to be careful around you because of your sensitivity towards many things that I was yet to figure out. 

"Well, I'm glad to be of entertainment to you." That is what I said instead. It was the better choice. Our conversation was so light, as ever. We spend time and time pulling each others threads as we slowly made progress in the subjects we were both studying individually. I don't remember the last time it's been so easy between us.

"I don't really believe that exes can be friends." You stipulated after our discussion of my previous relationship, once again. It dawned on me that it didn't bother me when you asked about it repeatedly, it just made me curious. What motivated your sudden interest? Also, you weren't really one to talk. For someone who'd never been in a relationship before, I don't think it was something you could have a say in. There was no problem in believing it but, how would you know what can be if you've never lead to a point of the events actually happening?