Page 64 of How We Began

“I’ll exchange anything for just one more day. Please.”

His nibbling on my ear did nothing to strengthen my already paper-thin resistance. “A life time of servitude?” I asked, cracking an eye open and confirming that it was, in fact, still pitch black, much like I’d guessed.

“Done.”

“Gah, you’ve woken me up, and now I need to go to the gym.” I threw off the covers which he instantly pulled back over us.

“You don’t need the gym, we can work out under here, naked.” He rolled me over, pressing me into the mattress.”

“I’m a fitness guru, I can do both.”

(7.00 a.m.)

Gym

(8.30 a.m.)

I’m back from the gym and having a few moments to get myself together. If I see him I know we will be naked again with moments and then I won’t be able to think straight again. And I do need to think straight.

What am I doing? It’s halfway through January. In six months, Ben leaves.

When he goes, it’s going to be worse than the few weeks we experienced of being apart. It is going to be permanent and forever and it is going to kill me. Not literally. I know I’ll physically survive. But I don’t think I’ll ever find anyone like him again.

What am I going to do with myself? What the hell and I going to do with a history degree and no real plans of what to use it for?

I may as well go back to the bank and just die a death of boredom there.

How much will it hurt when he leaves?

It’s gonna be bad, there are no two ways about it. Should I just give in and take what I can for the short time available? Or should I cut my losses now?

How will I feel when he’s in a different country with lots of skinny girls dressed in black lacy underwear?

I’m sure that all skinny American girls prance about in skimpy black underwear all day long.

The thought makes me want to throw up.

(4.00 p.m.)

We were in the library earlier. I was actually kind of into my study, and for once it was books I was studying and not Ben. Okay, I stared at him a little bit. Just a little.

I knew I was being watched through the window. Every so often I got a tap on the foot and looked up to see Ben’s reflection grinning at me.

Ben hadn’t wanted to go to the library. He’d wanted to go home, or to the pub. He’d wanted to go anywhere where we could talk (and by this I think he meant kiss) without having two wooden shelves blocking the way.

Moody Chops had sulked the whole way there, lingering on his cigarette outside in the cold sleet just so he could hold my hand a little longer. Meredith saw the sleet and ran screaming back to the Dorm with her folder on her head shouting something about her hair.

“What were those girls talking to you about that one Sunday up here?” I suddenly asked. I met his blue gaze in the window. He knew exactly what Sunday I meant.

“She was asking me Dave’s name and if I would give her his number or vice versa.” He grinned at me.

“Really?”

“Really.”

Bugger it, I thought. Why was I sitting there wasting time looking at those books when it seemed there were so many other things for us to be doing?

“Sod it, let’s go,” I announced, hearing I him give a little ‘yes,’ under his breath. “Come on, Romeo, you’ve got six hours left!”