Page 3 of When We Are Old

“Hey, wait up.” I caught a glimpse of the miniature strawberry girl as she paced across the grass. She didn’t stop or turn.

I ran faster than I had in, well, ever. Pushing my lungs against my ribcage. For someone with such short legs she had some pace behind her.

“Hey.” I reached a hand for her shoulder and tapped. She wheeled around in shock, swinging her backpack off her shoulder like a weapon and bashing it into my stomach. “Hey, sorry, it’s just me, Matthew,” I gasped bending over, my lungs now vacant of oxygen as it gusted from my mouth in one loud exhalation.

What the fuck did she have in there? Bricks?

“What do you want?” Her eyes widened; her lips opening in surprise.

“Whoa, whoa! I’m fine, thanks for asking.” I rested my hands on my knees and glanced up though my hair that had flopped into my face. I grinned and her lips softened slightly.

“What do you want?” she repeated. She didn’t look quite so angry, so I chanced standing and hoped she wouldn’t smash me with her killer backpack again.

“Sorry. I just wanted to check on you.”

“I’m fine.” She turned and started her fast-paced march again. I stepped into place next to her.

“Okay.”

We walked, her attention on her feet.

“What are you doing?” she mumbled, casting me a sharp side eye. I smiled at the delicate stain on her cheeks and shrugged. “You should go and have a drink with the others; they look like fun.”

I answered with another shrug.

Out on the main road, she stopped by the bus stop. Only then did she turn to me. “You can go now. I’m waiting for my bus.”

“What if I don’t have anywhere else to be?”

This wasn’t true. Our silent walk across campus had brought me closer to phone call time.

“I can’t believe that.” She ran a hot gaze over me, and I smirked.

“No, why? Although I might be taking myself to the hospital to get checked out. I think you’ve broken my ribs.” I rubbed at them. Fuck, they were sore. “What do you have in there?”

She snorted in answer.

“How far away is home?” I leant in closer. If she smelled like strawberries and cream, it would be perfect.

“Twenty minutes.”

“It’s getting dark.”

Her lips ghosted a smile. “And?”

“Maybe I’m a gallant kind of lad.”

She laughed and it did something unexpected to my chest. Made it tighten and hollow, made me feel a tiny bit sick.

“Go back in there.” She nodded to the dorm. “They're planning to hit the student union bar.”

“And you don’t want to go?”

She stared longingly at the gates, her expression almost wistful. “No. I, uh…”

“Uh…?” I prompted when she didn’t add anything else.

“I’m not great in crowds.”