EMERY
I wake up in Zoya's bed, feeling surprisingly refreshed after a peaceful night's sleep. The room is empty, and I see no sign of my best friend; curiosity instantly comes over me. I knew she was busy, but I thought she'd be busy at home. I have to say, I'm intrigued to know what she might have been doing last night. Where could Zoya have been sleeping? Did she spend the night with anyone? It's not like her to rush into things, but she can sometimes surprise me. I make a mental note to ask her later.
Rolling over on my stomach to check my alarm clock, a sudden wave of panic washes over me. Twenty minutes to go until my first class. How did I manage to sleep without hearing my phone alarm? Without further ado, I leap out of bed, trying to shake off the dizziness that threatens to slow me down.
In a frenzy, I open Zoya's dresser and grab a pair of jeans, praying they'll fit. I hastily put them on and stand in front of her mirror, examining my appearance. I smile widely, turning to appreciate a few seconds how well the jeans fit my curves. But when I look up, my smile fades as quickly as it appeared. My face! What happened to my face?
I hurriedly rummage through Zoya's things, finding an unused brush. I take my time taming my unruly hair until I'm satisfied with the result. Deciding to keep the T-shirt I'm already wearing as it goes well with the jeans, I borrow a few perfumes and her deodorant to freshen up.
With little time to spare, I rush to the bathroom and splash some water on my face, hoping to eliminate the drowsiness. It's a temporary solution, but it'll have to do for now. I look at my reflection in the mirror and take a deep breath. I may not be fully prepared, but I'm determined to make the best of the situation.
I'm running down the stairs, my feet barely touching the steps, when I realise the house is empty. Arwan must already have left for his practice, and his mother is at work. Without hesitation, I head for their kitchen, feeling a twinge of guilt but also a gurgling in my stomach. I grab a cereal bar from the cupboard, presumably belonging to Arwan, promising to pay them back another time.
On the counter, I spot a note from Beatrice—Zoya's mother—reminding me to lock up before I leave. I smile at the familiar message and take it as a sign that I'm welcome here, even when they're not.
Leaving the kitchen, I find my car keys on the piece of furniture left there by Arwan yesterday. I then put on a pair of Zoya's trainers, preferring comfort to my usual heels. And with a sense of urgency, I make my way to the car and head for the university. Thoughts race through my head as I drive, my attention shifting between the road and the presentation I have to do today. I take a piece of chewing gum to calm my nerves just before parking, determined to face the challenge ahead with confidence.
Glancing at the clock, I breathe a sigh of relief. I've managed to arrive on time. I hurry towards the lecture theatre, feeling a new rash of anxiety sweep over me. My laptop and all my study materials are back at home, which means I have nothing to use for my presentation. Panic threatens to engulf me, but I remember the countless hours I spent studying and preparing. I can't let this setback defeat me.
God, please, don't let this be a disaster!
With some trepidation, I decide to keep my composure as I find a seat towards the back of the room. The teacher starts the lesson as usual, and the time for presentations finally arrives. I watch as each student takes their turn, offering insightful points and receiving constructive criticism. My anxiety mounts as I realise that perhaps I haven't prepared enough.
Finally, it's my turn to speak. My heart beats in my chest, the pounding echoing in my ears and reverberating throughout my being. Every step I take forward feels like I'm losing a layer of myself until I feel exposed and vulnerable. I glance out at the sea of waiting faces, and the weight of their gaze intensifies my nerves. Pushing back my fear, I open my slideshow and wait for the teacher's signal to begin.
Taking a deep breath, I remind myself I've made the effort and that I know this material inside out. So I begin confidently, explaining the complex processes of cell division and the importance of mitosis. The words flow smoothly from my mouth, and I can feel the interest and commitment of my classmates.
But as I delve deeper into the subject, I encounter a minor slip-up: I confuse the names of two cell structures, causing a brief moment of confusion. However, I quickly catch up and correct myself with a confident smile. "Excuse me for the slip," I say, acknowledging the mistake, "but it is, in fact, the Golgi apparatus, not the endoplasmic reticulum, that plays a crucial role in protein modification and packaging."
Although apparently engrossed in their phones, the class nods in understanding as I continue with the rest of my presentation. The tension in my shoulders eases, and I take it as a sign that they are following me. I dive into the complex mechanisms of cell signalling, stressing the importance of maintaining homeostasis in the body.
As I speak, I notice a spark of genuine interest in my professor's eyes. He leans forward, totally committed to listening to my every word. This recognition fuels my confidence, and I find myself speaking with even greater conviction, buoyed by the positive energy in the room.
Finally, I conclude my presentation with a concise summary of the key points, highlighting the relevance of cell biology in various medical and scientific fields. The class erupts in applause, albeit partly out of courtesy. However, it's the sign of approval from my professor that really counts for me.
"Excellent work, Emery," he congratulates, his voice sincere. "I particularly liked the engagement of your slide show. Could you go back to slide seven? I have a few questions I'd like to discuss with you."
With a smile, I return to the requested slide, ready to answer each of his carefully prepared questions. He congratulates me once again on my thorough understanding and preparation. I step down from the platform, taking my place with a sense of accomplishment. It's gratifying to receive compliments from a teacher who usually reserves them sparingly.
God, I really love biochemistry!
As the lesson continues and my classmates present their topics, I take out my phone and discreetly note down some of the key points raised. I know how important it is to supplement the knowledge acquired in class with additional self-learning. It's become a habit for me because I think it's crucial for a major like mine. I don't hesitate to immerse myself in academic articles or explore books in the university library to deepen my understanding.
When noon arrives, I realise I should probably go home and collect my stuff for my afternoon classes. I exchange greetings with my classmates, saying goodbye as I leave the classroom. A new goal forms in my mind: to get home and back, making sure I'm on time for my next set of lessons. With resolve in my stride, I haste towards the college exit, which is already relatively crowded because everyone is rushing to eat.
However, as I approach the doors, my path is blocked by a figure standing right in front of me. I furrow my brow, lifting my gaze to find Tyler's face staring back at me. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This was definitely not part of the plan. Why is he here? Does he finally want to talk?
Shit, could this day get any better?
"Hey," he greets me in a timid, almost hesitant voice. "Emery, how are you?"
You mean since you decided to cut off all communication with me overnight and shattered my heart in the process? Just peachy!
"Uh…" I hesitate. "I'm… all right. You?"
He nervously tucks his hands into his pockets, avoiding direct eye contact with me.
"I'm fine," he begins. "Listen, Em, I… I want to know, why are you wearing Arwan's T-shirt?"
His question catches me off guard. I glance down at the T-shirt I'm wearing, realising it indeed belongs to Arwan. The faint scent of his cologne still lingers, slightly unsettling me. However, Tyler's inquiry baffles me even more. Why is he so interested in what I'm wearing suddenly? And why this particular question? After ignoring me for so long, he abruptly wants to know?
"Oh, that?" I respond, feigning nonchalance. "I borrowed it. I just wanted something comfortable to wear today."
Tyler furrows his brow, clearly dissatisfied with my answer. "But why his T-shirt? Did you stay at his place?"
Why the hell is he asking these questions?
"Why? Does it bother you?"
My response seems to unsettle him. "I, uh… No. No, Em, do whatever you want. I… I'm not… I haven't… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."
I roll my eyes, refusing to engage further. Without another word, I leave him to his own confusion and resume my stride. As I continue walking, I catch sight of Arwan chatting with his friends nearby. Glancing back, I notice Tyler still watching me intently. A mischievous idea takes hold, and I slyly smile. I turn my head in Arwan's direction, catching his attention. Then, I mimic a phone with my hand, mouthing 'Call me' to him. It certainly doesn't go unnoticed by Tyler.
Arwan's eyebrows furrow in confusion, clearly not understanding my intentions at all. But that's okay. I relish the fact that Tyler is feeling a pang of jealousy right now. He was jealous enough to come and question me, to actually talk to me. It's definitely a promising sign. I hold onto the hope that there might be a chance to win him back. By avoiding him, maybe he'll realise my worth and put an end to this childishness, choosing to approach me like a grown man.
Until that day comes, I'll make the most of this little game I've set in motion.
The game is on.