× Horan

Sunday morning was hell, but I managed to get out of bed and make my way to the English building. I was really drunk last night, but everything kept playing in my head over and over again. No amount of alcohol seemed to erase it.

I didn't sleep either. The storm didn't end until six in the morning, and the power came on sometime before that, but sleep still didn't seem to want to come.

When I rounded the corner, I was surprised to find Professor Lawtherd's English room door wide open with the lights on. Being it was a weekend, it was a long shot for me to even expect him to be there, but from the looks of it, he was. Though, he wasn't inside the room.

Stepping through the doorway, I walked slowly to the desk in front that faced the elevated seats of the deserted class. The white bored was clear except for some notes for the professor to remind himself what was on the schedule for the week. It looked like my class was starting a book called The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway.

Turning my back to the board, I looked at the professor's desk and noticed a stack of papers at the edge of the wooden surface. What caught my attention was the name Lynn Mercury typed on one of the papers sticking out. I looked over my shoulder at the open door to see if anyone was watching me and stealthily snatched the paper from the pile.

Prometheus and Pandora. The story of how mankind killed my parents and an awful gift that kept me going.

"What a surprise to see you here, Mr. Horan," someone said from behind me, making me jump. I quickly spun around and placed Lynn's essay back on top of the pile in one swift motion, praying Professor Lawtherd didn't catch me reading someone else's work. "I would have thought you would be in bed sleeping after that win yesterday. What do I owe the pleasure?"

"Uh," I said stupidly, my heart still beating a little faster from the professor's sudden appearance. "I'm here to talk to you about my grade on the myth essay," I finally spit out.

He started laughing as he walked over to his desk. "You're here to talk to me because you got a ninety percent on an essay?"

It sounded really fucking ridiculous when he said it out loud, but that was exactly why I was there.

"Yes," I confirm.

"You should really have more faith in yourself, Niall," he told me as he pulled out his swivel chair and took a seat. "It was nicely written, really, and the only reason why you didn't get a hundred percent was because there were some grammar errors and a couple sloppy sentences that told me that you wrote it a few hours before class."

"I just thought there was a mistake about my grade or something," I confessed, starting to feel really stupid for even going in to talk to the professor. "I don't know shit about this Greek crap. Honestly; I had no idea what the fuck I was writing for that essay. I was just bullshiting it."

"Well, it spoke volumes, Mr. Horan," Professor Lawtherd said. "Whether you were just winging it or not, there was truth in your words. You came from a high lifestyle that ended up kicking you in the arse. Did Miss Mercury help you with it at all?"

I leaned against the desk and crossed my arms, offended that he would even think that despite him being right. "She helped me think of a myth, but that's it. I did all the writing."

Professor Lawtherd nodded approvingly. "I knew that girl would be good for you."

"What?"

"You remind me of myself when I was your age, Mr. Horan," he explained, leaning on his elbows and clasping his hands together on his desk. "Though, there is only maybe a ten year difference between us, give or take... a lot can happen in ten years."

I looked at Professor Lawtherd for the first time since being in his class. Before, all I saw was his pale London skin and glossy hair and black rimmed glasses, but I never took the time to actually look at him.

He was wearing an ironed, dry cleaned shirt with his diagonally striped gray and black tie that was loosened around his neck. A Burberry black trench coat hung over the back of his swivel chair and I could see that the glasses he was wearing were designer. He was only thirty or so years old, but there were some frown lines around his mouth. His hazel eyes were darkened and his hair was starting to lose its color.

"We both came from rich families," Professor Lawtherd told me, leaning back in his chair. "I used to sleep around with a lot of girls when I was younger, too. I regretted that the most. I blame myself for not having a girlfriend or being married by the age of thirty three because I tainted the image of a relationship. I live in a huge house alone because of what I did years ago."

I wasn't really sure what he was trying to tell me, or how partnering me up with Lynn had to do with anything, but I knew better than to leave. As much as I hated the class, I respected Professor Lawtherd, probably more now than ever.

"What does this have to do with Lynn?" I asked him.

The professor smiled slightly. "I'm not a matchmaker," he confessed. "I didn't partner you up in class for you two to get together. But Lynn has been here for a little under a month and I have heard some good things about her already. I figured maybe she can wake you up from the somber you're in. Or, maybe this conversation will."

Somber? What the hell was he talking about?

"You're confused," he observed. "But you won't be for long. Once you see what you're doing to yourself, you'll understand everything I just told you."

I nodded slowly, waiting to see if he was going to explain himself or not.

"Well, I should really finish up here and leave," he said, standing up from his seat and walked over to the white board.

He turned his back to me and I looked down at his desk. The title of Lynn's essay caught my eye and without thinking, I quickly snatched it up in my hands and folded it into fours before stuffing it in my back pocket.

I quickly muttered a goodbye to Professor Lawtherd and left the room before he could notice it was gone.

As soon as I left the building and started heading to my car, my phone rang. Looking at the ID I saw that it was my mother. This was the fifth time she had called in the past two days, she normally wasn't this persistent, so it must have been important. Reluctantly, I answered.

"Niall," my mum said through the receiver. "It seems like forever since I heard your voice."

"That's probably because it has," I said in slight irritation. I shouldn't be mad at her, I mean; I was the one who answered the phone after all. I pulled out my keys and unlocked the doors before getting inside. "So, what is it this time? You have another offer at the law firm? Or your friend has something in the medical field? Come on, mum, don't leave me hanging."

"Why must you be such a hard ass all the time?" she asked. "Excuse my language."

"Because you never call to say hi, or to check up on me, or to wish me luck on a football game," I informed her. I could hear the intake of breath from her end, but I spoke up before she could. "You always have some job opening or a new school for me to go to."

"I only want what's best for you," she said as I started up my car and pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward the science building. "I actually called to talk to you about... football."

I blinked in surprise. "Really?"

My mum was anti-football everything. She never watched it, she never went to any of my games, and she didn't even approve of me going to the school there in London for the sport. She's only paying for my place to stay in hopes I would switch over and take up my chemistry major instead of my "useless dream of kicking balls".

"I had a client the other day enlighten me on some news," she started and I rolled my eyes. She was probably going to start ranting about the danger of the sport and tell me all the calculations of how only so many people even make it into the division and blah blah blah. "Apparently, when she was looking me up on the internet, she found something about you."

"Oh?" Suddenly, I was interested again.

"She told me that she found an article about you and your game you played yesterday," she informed me and I started getting impatient. "You didn't tell me a girl had joined your little team."

And there it was. If something had anything to do with woman-power, my mother was all for it. So naturally, hearing about Lynn joining an all-boys team, she would be interested in football.

"According to the article, you two are unstoppable," my mother continued. "Going off of what it says, it was nothing but praise and good things. This Lynn girl, she's American? I don't think I would have had the guts to live across the world, let alone play on a team like this."

"People do what they can to live their dream."

"Yes, well, I can't do anything about her choices in life, but I can with yours," she stated. "You are making a huge mistake here, Niall. I just want you to see that before it's too late to do anything."

"Goodbye, mum," I said into the phone before pushing end.

I dropped my phone on my lap and looked out the windshield. Even my mom could find a way to bring Lynn up in conversation and she didn't even know anything about her.

× × ×

Leaning against the metal counter, I watched dazedly at the Bunsen burner, turning it on and off, the flame erupting and then extinguishing. I was nearly falling sleep as I watched it. A nap seemed pretty damn good at the moment. Or maybe I should just get out of here and go to bed for the night, ending this everlasting day.

"I thought I'd find you in here," I heard someone say from the doorway, but I didn't bother to take my concentration off the burner.

"What do you want, Abby?" I asked, irritated.

She walked in front of the table I was leaning on, looking through the different shapes and sizes of the beakers filled with an array of colors.

"Just wanted to see if you were all right," she told me. "You worried me last night with that panic attack."

I removed the goggles from my face and rubbed my eyes, my headache pounding more than ever. "I'm fine," I lied.

Abby rounded the table and stood behind me. I felt her dainty hands run up my back and stop at my shoulders, squeezing and rubbing her thumbs on the back of my neck. "What did you and Lynn do last night after you left?"

The remembrance of Lynn on top of me flashed in my mind, the thoughts of last night resurfacing on how good she looked from that position. I closed my eyes as a fruitless attempt to forget. I made myself give into the massage Abby was currently giving me, trying to burn the memory away.

"We, uh... she brought me home last night and left," I said simply.

"Really?" Abby asked nonchalantly. "Because Chloe told me she came home really late last night wearing a pair of black boxers and a shirt that was way too big on her."

"I gave her some clothes because hers were wet from the rain," I said.

Abby stopped moving her hands along my shoulder blades. "Why would you lend her clothes if she was just going to get rained on again when she went back to her hall?"

Shit.

Lying had a lot to do with the ability to empathize, or understand what another person might be thinking or feeling. Having empathy is necessary to lie, but I had to remind myself that this was Abby I was talking to. Why did I care what Abby thought?

"I don't have to explain myself to you," I told her, walking out of her hands and around the medal table and started to clean up.

"I'm just worried, is all. I don't want you to get hurt."

"Hurt? You don't have to worry about me getting hurt."

Abby sighed and leaned against the table to make me look in her eyes, her long bleached hair sprawled out on the shiny surface of the table. "I have been hearing things all week about her," Abby confessed, looking up at me through her lashes. I continued to clean up as she spoke. "Did you know her parents are no long around... like, they died. And that she has a brother. I'm not certain what happened to him, though."

"Your point?" I snapped. I went to the chemistry lab to be alone, and this was far from being alone.

"Well, that's just it. No one knows who she is," she continued. "We just let a complete stranger into our school, for all we know she might have murdered her family or something."

The folded up piece of paper was burning a hole in my back pocket. I may not know Lynn on a personal level, but I knew she wasn't capable to kill anyone, let alone her own family.

"That is the biggest load of shit I have ever heard," I sneered. "Do you really think the Chancellor would have let her in without a thorough search on her?"

"But the point is, we know nothing about her, Niall," Abby pressed. "I mean, where the hell is her brother?"

"Alive," I told her, remembering the conversation we had last night. Lynn didn't say much about him, but it was enough to know that he was at least breathing.

Abby looked at me like I just slapped her. "How do you know that? You knew she had a brother, didn't you? What else has she told you?"

I sighed in annoyance as I put the goggles back were they belonged in the cabinet. Why was Lynn suddenly the hot topic of the day?

"Abby, this is getting absurd. You're sounding like you're more obsessed with her than you are with me now."

"I just like to know who I'm dealing with."

"Maybe if you stop pushing her into pools she won't hunt you down and kill you," I joked. From the look on Abby's face, I knew I was the only one laughing. "You're over thinking this. I honestly know that she isn't some psycho. She likes football, and that's the only reason she's here."

Abby nodded, but I knew she wasn't convinced. "I just really don't want you getting hurt because of her."

It was like the paper in my pocket had a heartbeat - demanding to be heard, demanding to be known.

"I won't," I said even though I was pretty sure I wasn't going to be the one getting hurt.

It's amazing how quickly guilt could kick in for the smallest, most meaningless things in our lives. Except this wasn't exactly small, so the guilt I was feeling was like a tsunami washing over me and it didn't seem like it was going to subside any time soon. This wasn't the type of guilt that was just going to wash away after the storm.

Guilt is an emotional warning sign that we learn in our childhood social growth. It's a warning sign with a purpose: change your behavior or else lose your friends or family.

Or in my case, a teammate, and I wasn't so sure that was a good idea.

But with my guilt also came with curiosity and from Abby's words about the mystery on how Lynn's parents actually died, then I guess you could say curiosity killed the cat.