Being friends… being friends?
How would that work for me? Every time I see him, I want to pounce on him -sometimes even kill him- how could I even be in the same place with him and not want to do that?
There will be no more kisses, no more caresses, no more innuendos. Are we just going to be friends?
Although it annoys me in some way, this is the best thing, isn’t it?
As I left the bathroom and headed to my room, I began to ponder why he wants to be my friend. What does he gain by being so? He could easily ignore me and pretend not to know me, but he wants to be associated with me.
In an attempt to forget about Nick, I started the essay on “Wuthering Heights”.
I went down to the living room to make myself a coffee and do my work at the dining table.
When I had made the coffee and sat down to start, nothing came to mind; I couldn’t concentrate. After reading the guidelines for this stupid essay many times, I decided to re-read the book, because none of the words I read were sticking in my mind. I read them but didn’t understand them, none of them connected with the next.
In a way, I turned my room upside down looking for the book. I’d left it in Portland. I put my hands on my face and let out a sort of shriek. How could I leave one of my favorite books there?
“You seem to be quite organized,” he observed.
Just what I needed, why on earth did I leave the door open?
“I’m not in the mood, Nick.”
“I can tell, what’s wrong?” He surprised me by asking. I looked at him, he was leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest.
“I have an essay on ‘Wuthering Heights,’ but I left my book at home.”
“Do you like that book?” He asked, surprised.
“It’s my favorite book,” I replied.
He gestured with his finger for me to wait and went into his room. When he came out, he had a book. He entered my room and handed me “Wuthering Heights.”
“Do you also like the book?”
“It’s my favorite.”
We stared at each other for a few seconds, and then I remembered. Friends.
“I’m going to do the essay,” I said, breezing past him and quickly heading to where all my papers were.
“Do you need help?” Nick asked from behind me.
“No, thank you. It won’t be too hard,” I lied. It is indeed very hard, and it’s his fault.
Ignoring what I said, Nick sat down next to me, taking the guideline sheet.
“Have you started yet?”
“No.”
“The first thing is the introduction, which expresses the theme and objective of the essay,” he said. I knew that. I knew what an introduction was, he was treating me like a fool.
“I know what an introduction is, Nick.”
“Then start.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do.”
“Why do you need the book if you’ve already read it?”
“To refresh my memory a bit. Why won’t you let me do my essay alone? Believe me when I say I can handle it.”
“Believe me when I say you’ll do better with my help,” he said, the arrogant smile on his face begging to be wiped off.
“And what if I don’t want your help?”
“Did I ask you if you wanted it?” He snapped. I glared at him, and he just smiled.
He ran upstairs and came back with his laptop, turned it on, and began to type.
“Let’s start,” he said, begrudgingly shifting his chair to face me directly. “With that attitude, you’re going to fail.”
“Shut up,” I retorted bitterly. He just smiled.
“Introduction.”
“Well… The work was published in 1847 by Emily Bronte,” I started, and Nick began to type.
“It consists of 17 chapters if I remember correctly,” Nick continued. I nodded. “It’s a romantic novel.”
Saying that made me laugh.
“What?” He asked.
“It’s not a romantic novel. It’s anything but romantic.”
“It’s a romantic novel, Samantha. They loved each other.”
“Maybe that’s what the genre says and all, but it’s not a romantic novel. It’s the most tragic story I’ve read. Catherine chose to marry a rich man she didn’t love because it was frowned upon to be with a servant. That’s not love. And Heathcliff? When Catherine died, he decided to take revenge at all costs, and what he did was to retain Catherine’s daughter and force her to marry his son to make her husband suffer. Is that love? I don’t think so.”
“She had no other choice, Samantha. And he was heartbroken. He was abused and became an abuser in return. He’s a victim and at the same time uses revenge as his main weapon. Catherine’s character can be interpreted as Heathcliff’s alter ego. That’s stated by Catherine herself in the book, who at a particular moment said that her sorrows have been Heathcliff’s and ended up saying that she is the same person as him.”
“He hurt the daughter of the supposed ‘love of his life.’ He was a bad person, heartless.”
“When Earnshaw adopted him and died, Heathcliff lost the person he loved the most, and when Catherine left him, it was a hard blow for him because he lost the two people he loved the most in the world. The things that happened to him in his life made him the way he is. He didn’t want to hurt her, because he truly loved her, but his anger and resentment about the unfairness of the world blinded him.”
Suddenly I didn’t know if we were talking about Catherine and Heathcliff or about us.
“He hurt her, no matter the reasons, he hurt her when she loved him.”
“Are we talking about her or about you?” He frowned and seemed taken aback. At that question, I grabbed my notes and went to my room. I wasn’t sure if I could deny it to him at that moment.
The next morning, Nick and I didn’t say a word to each other all the way to university.
We walked into biology class with Eva. She made me laugh with silliness all morning. She’s very likable, and I really enjoy her company. During the break, we went to the cafeteria to get a coffee.
“Hey, look,” Eva touched my arm as we were leaving the cafeteria heading towards some benches, almost making me spill my coffee on my clothes. “Look discreetly, okay? Over in the other corner, your professor is watching you.”
“He’s not my professor, Eva,” I replied, and she rolled her eyes. I didn’t even bother to look at Aaron and sat on the bench, Eva sat next to me.
“Oh my God! Sexy professor approaching, unbutton your shirt or something!” She looked at my white shirt and jeans.
“I’m not interested in showing him my breasts, thank you,” I whispered as I saw Aaron smiling as he approached.
“Well, you should be, you have giant breasts sister, I’d love to have the melons you have there.”
“All girls would like to have those,” said a voice I knew very well. I blushed and looked at him.
“No one asked you, Nick,” I said as he sat next to me. I looked again in the direction of Aaron, but he was no longer approaching, he had left.
“But I wanted to participate in this interesting conversation about your breasts.”
I blushed again, and Eva burst out laughing, a very loud, shrill laugh.
“Are you sure he’s your stepbrother?” She asked between laughs.
“Unfortunately, yes,” I answered.
“That hurt,” he retorted, feigning offence.
“What are you doing here?” I whispered while Eva was still laughing.
“I wanted to spend some time with my sister and her friend. Is that illegal?”
“Liar, you saw Aaron approaching and came just to annoy me,” I muttered.
“You know? You’re not as dumb as I thought,” he said, making me widen my eyes and the urge to slap him was overwhelming. He smiled and walked back towards the building.
“I have to say it. Your stepbrother has the best butt I’ve ever seen. It’s impossible not to look at it,” she finally said, and that’s true, but the fact that Eva said it bothered me.
I gave her a death stare, and she raised her hands above her head in surrender.
“I’m sorry, but someone had to say it,” she defended herself. I glared at her a few more seconds and then laughed.
We both laughed about silly things for a long while until it was time to return to our next class.
She asked me if I wanted to go to her house that afternoon to start the essay. Without a second thought, I said yes and practically ran to her car so Nick wouldn’t see me.
He didn’t see me, and now we’re heading to her house. It’s likely that when I get home, Nick will yell at me. Or maybe he won’t care. I don’t know which of the two I’d prefer…