SirianaSims

I’ve already finished my coffee and dumped the cup in one of the ubiquitous recycle bins when Marten finally texts me back.

“Almost done, 2 mins.”

I sigh and lean against the large stone blocks. I’ve learned that two minutes usually means at least ten, sometimes more if he gets held up by one of the undergrads he supervises.

The trees have all exploded in vibrant reds and oranges, but there are surprisingly few leaves on the ground. Foxbury is all smooth cement and glass, almost too clean to feel real. It wouldn’t surprise me if the university has a horde of employees whose only job is to pick up every single leaf as it falls.

I’m holding my phone like a shield as a couple of people glance at me, but not like they recognise me. More like they can tell that I don’t belong here, not with the way I’m hovering awkwardly outside the commons like a lost puppy.

The first time I got here after we started dating, I expected Marten to be waiting for me – actually waiting, on the steps of a building somewhere, or maybe even at the train station, happy to see me. Instead, I received a text with detailed instructions on how to get to his frat, as if I hadn’t just been there, in his bed, a week before.

Marten shows up eleven minutes later.

He kisses me on the cheek and it’s brief, distracted, like he’s already late for something else.

“You look nice,” he says.

That’s all. No ‘I missed you’, no ‘holy shit, you look incredible’. Just nice.

“Thanks. You look… official.”

He grins and straightens the jacket, Foxbury logo embroidered on his chest.

“I had a presentation this morning, some members of the board were there. Had to look the part.”

“I’m sure they were very impressed with you.”

He smirks. “Obviously. I just wish they wouldn’t schedule these meetings during the busiest part of the semester.”

He takes my arm and starts walking, back towards the fraternity. He’s still talking about the presentation, something about neural networks, and I rest my head on his shoulder and let his voice wash over me.

We’ve barely made it back to his room before his demeanor changes. As soon as the door closes behind us, cutting off the noise from his frat mates downstairs, the stupid jacket is gone and he’s pulling me onto his lap.

With Marten it often feels like I’m dating two completely different people. One is some sort of stoic intellectual, the other a very horny video game geek, and I never know which one will be in charge.

I prefer the geek, though. At least I know how to deal with that, and Marten’s intensity, the way I feel wanted whenever I’m in his bed, makes up for a lot of lukewarm texts.

We’ve barely caught our breaths before Marten picks his jeans up from the floor and wakes up his computer. The bed creaks slightly under me as I pull on my leggings, taste of him still in my mouth.

I observe him for a moment. He’s focused on his screens where the lines of code slowly scroll upward like they’re trying to escape his fingers, flying across the keyboard.

The hair at the back of his neck is damp from sweat and the entire room smells like sex and body spray and warm, dusty electronics, but I shiver slightly, suddenly feeling cold and forgotten.

“So… is this what the weekend is going to look like, then?” I ask lightly. “Me watching you work?”

The typing doesn’t even slow down. “I told you I had a deadline.”

“Right. But I didn’t realise ‘deadline’ meant ‘silent retreat.’”

Marten sighs, wearily, like I’ve just asked him to solve world hunger. “I’m not ignoring you, Jules, I just need to finish this. It’s due Monday.”

“It’s Friday.”

“Exactly,” he says, still typing. “Which means Monday is very close.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. “I could’ve just stayed in the city. Or at least brought something to do if I’d known I’d be third-wheeling your homework.”

Marten finally pauses, hands hovering over the keyboard like he doesn’t know whether to keep going or give in. “You came during midterms. What did you expect?”

“I don’t know. I thought maybe you’d be excited to see me, spend time with me.”

He swivels in his chair to face me. “I am excited to see you. But I also have responsibilities. You know, like classes? Research? That little PhD thing I came here to do?”

“Wow, thank you for the explanation. I almost forgot I never went to university.”

“That’s not what – fuck, Jules, that’s not what I meant and you know it.” He rubs his eyes. “Can we not do this right now?”

“Right. I’m interrupting the genius at work.”

“Come on,” he mutters. “Don’t be like that.”

“Be like what?”

“Passive-aggressive. Like I’m supposed to drop everything just because you’re here.”

“I’m sorry having an off-campus girlfriend is so inconvenient for you. In the future I’ll make sure to schedule my affection seven to ten business days in advance.”

My words hang in the air. For a second, I think that maybe he’ll get up. Cross the room. Touch me, say something that sounds like he actually cares about me. But he just leans back in his chair, arms crossed.

“You know,” he says, an unpleasant edge to his voice, “not everyone has the luxury of taking selfies all day and calling it work.”

The room goes still, the only sound the faint humming of his computer fan.

“Excuse me?”

Marten’s expression changes – just slightly. Like he realises he stepped on something sharp but doesn’t know if it’ll bleed yet.

“I didn’t mean that.”

“Sure you didn’t.”

“Jules…”

“No, it’s fine. I get it. I’m just a stupid girl who posts stupid shit online. It must be so difficult for you to stoop to my level.”

“You know that’s not how I see you.”

“Do I, though?” There’s no real bite to my voice any more, just sadness. He exhales through his nose, voice softer now.

“Okay. Look. You’re right. This isn’t what you signed up for, I’m just extremely busy right now. Let’s go somewhere for fall break, just the two of us. I’ll take the whole weekend off, and you can pick the place.”

I almost make a snide comment about how that conveniently frees him from planning anything, but I hesitate. It feels like a peace offering made out of broken glass and duct tape, but it’s a peace offering nonetheless and I don’t actually want to continue the fight.

“Really?”

He nods. “Yes. Anywhere you want.”

“Okay. But where would…”

“Seriously, anywhere you want.” The chair squeaks as he turns to the monitors. The keyboard starts clacking and just like that, we’re back. Pretending I got what I wanted.

We don’t talk much after that. Marten is engrossed in his work and I start searching aimlessly on my phone, trying to come up with ideas of where to go, but I soon get distracted. I’m not sure how it happens, but I find myself scrolling through old texts. Paul’s name is at the top of my screen, like a bruise that won’t fade.

It doesn’t hurt as much as it used to, though, and I even find myself smiling at the stupid inside jokes and pictures we’ve sent each other. Even though he would call me almost every night, he’d still text me through the day, just telling me random stuff that was on his mind. There’s even a short voice clip he sent while he was in the recording booth.

Just then, my finger slips, accidentally hitting the play button, but thankfully the volume is turned all the way down. Heart hammering, I quickly put the phone down and lie back on the bed.

The clattering of the keyboard stops and Marten clears his throat. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I say. “Just thinking. About where to go, I mean.”

I stare at the ceiling. There are a couple of old glow-in-the-dark stars stuck up there, probably from whoever lived here before. I can’t imagine Marten doing something so frivolous. One of them is peeling off, the sickly-looking green plastic at an angle. I wonder how long it’s been there, almost invisible and ignored until the lights go out, how much longer it’ll keep clinging on before it falls.

I really thought I’d feel safe. More in control, at least.

I thought I’d picked someone who would want me more than I wanted them. Someone who wasn’t so much bigger than me.

So why does it feel like I’m shrinking?