Evangeline Channing

I think Scott's the 'older brother' of his group. At least, that's the sense I get from how he takes charge of things, but always with this air of boyish charm about him. His demeanour has been the same every time I've met him, and that surprises me a little. Most guys our age have a couple of different personas – one for when they're around girls, another one for their mates, another for their mother and so on. But not Scott, as far as I can tell. Maybe that's why it's so easy to be comfortable around him. Once his friends left, it only took a few minutes and even fewer awkward glances for us to settle in. Now, I feel comfortable enough to blurt:

"Oh my God, if I have to read another line about microeconomic equilibrium shifts, I am going to lose what's left of my sanity."

I don't think I even meant to say it out loud, but I did, and Scott laughs as he marks his page with a Post-It.

"If it helps, I think it's easier to understand when you finish chapter...4," he says, tapping its place on the contents page.

"I don't know why they put it in the middle of chapter 3, but once you get aggregate demand, it kinda just clicks."

He shrugs innocently with one-shoulder as he offers his help, whilst my jaw's on the floor. It's not that I underestimated how Econ-savvy he might be, but... okay, maybe I underestimated him a little bit.

So far, Scott Kellerman's shaping up to be quite the friend to have – supportive, sensitive, smart. Not obnoxiously popular, but popular enough that every guy who walks past extends a fist-bump before smiling over at me; and every girl that walks past eyes him longingly. I'm just waiting for him to show me his extensive collection of toenail clippings, or tell me he finds fart jokes funny, or something equally teenage boy-ish and off-putting. Until then though, I'm quite enjoying his company.

"Do you ever feel like all this revising is just stockpiling knowledge you'll never use, and just dump the second you're done with applications?" I ask, turning my feet towards him.

"I mean, it's not like I'll use this stuff in real life."

Scott tilts his head, his thick brows wrinkled. "What exactly do you mean? University applications are as real as life gets."

My stomach tightens and I freeze momentarily. He's kidding, right?

My panic is eased when he lets out a deep laugh with a hand across his abdomen. "Your face! I'm only joking, don't worry, I get you."

"Scott!" I whine, making his name a few syllables longer, although I can't help but laugh too.

"I'm serious! It feels like this massive... thing. Like, I have no clue what's actually going on, but I know it's a big deal. Literally, I can't even say the u-word without getting shivers."

"Do you know where you're going next year?" He asks.

It's a normal question for people our age, studying for the exams that will tell us where we're going if we don't already know. Somehow though, it still throws me off, and I find myself having to take a deep breath before I think about it.

I might study in London, and stay with Mum & Auggie. 4 out of my 5 applications were for London universities. I'd study English, or maybe Anthropology, and I'd be okay with that.

I could go to Dublin – study music and philosophy. If I'm honest with myself, that's the possibility that excites me most. But what if that isn't for me? It's inspiring and all, but what if I'm just not ready to uproot my life and go across the country alone? What if I didn't even get in?

Then, I could go nowhere at all. That was the plan for a while. Stay here with Eric and live out my quaint London fairytale, until I figure out what I want to be in life, secondary to being his. But now that that's totally in the past, what reason do I have to put a stop to my future? Is that totally in the past?

"It's... complicated," is the answer I settle on, gnawing at my lower lip. "You?"

Scott's shoulders jolt with a slight laugh that his face doesn't reflect. "Same."

I sort of want to ask him what his 'complicated' is, but it wouldn't be fair not to tell him mine, and as comfortable as I am with him, I'm not prepared to delve into the details of my quarter-life crisis, or whatever they call indecision at this stage. Either way, it feels good to know that I'm not in it alone.

Giving up on the godforsaken 3rd chapter, I place my textbook facedown on the table, and Scott shuts his on his lap, attentive in anticipation of what I'm to say.

I sigh.

"I kinda wish I was one of those people who was all put-together about it."

"You seem pretty put-together to me," Scott says, and although I'm sure he means it with all sincerity, my eyebrows shoot up and I have to stop myself from laughing out loud.

Put-together? You were there when I had a midnight breakdown in the rain, right?

"Yeah, I don't know about that," I understate. "I guess I just think of the people in our year who know it all – from what they're wearing to graduation to where they'll sit in their future university lecture hall. Meanwhile, I just need to figure out what it is that I want."

It goes quiet for a moment, and all I can think as I scratch at my nails is: oh God, did I overshare?

But soon enough, Scott speaks up. "Nothing's wrong with taking longer to figure it out. It's better than rushing into something because it's what someone else wants for you, or charting your entire life on a course you don't really care about."

"Yeah..."

That's all I can say now that I'm wary of scaring him off with all my questions and worries. We settle back into silence naturally anyway, our attention turned back to our textbooks. At least Scott's is. I put my earphones in on the side he's not on, turn on some classical piano and get of lost in thought.

***

Chopin carries me through the rest of chapter 3, but after that my attention begins to wane, and my gaze starts wandering with every word I read. Once my focus is off of Economics, I feel a few sets of eyes on me – or maybe more than a few.

Raising my head, I lock eyes with a girl from French – Nikki, I think. Then I realise that I've got the eyes of her entire table too – Cece, Veronica and Sarah A. As soon as we catch eyes, Nikki and Sarah quickly avert their gazes, pretending to be rapt in conversation. Stacey B. and Veronica don't realize I've looked up though, because their stares are trained elsewhere – on Scott.

Before the two of us reconnected again, I'd hear Scott's name on girls' lips along the corridors, or in the changing rooms.

Did you see Scott on the football pitch today? God, he's so fit.

Ugh, Scott's new haircut is lush. He's so beautiful.

Do you know if Scott Kellerman's dating anyone? If not, I'm defo calling bagsy.

When I was paying enough attention to hear it, I'd roll my eyes, laugh and move on. Most of the time though, I was too busy thinking about, looking for or on my way to Macklin. But just since sitting here, I've seen the attention he gets firsthand. Scott, however, seems to be oblivious.

I flick my eyes over to confirm, and sure enough, he's entirely unaware of the favourable attention he's garnered. His deep green eyes are glued to his page, his sharp jaw tensed in concentration. Then the moss green snaps up to meet my stare.

"What?" He smiles warily. Oh shit, am I staring?

"No, nothing, I was just thinking about, uh," I hum, stalling for time as I try and come up with an excuse.

"Clue 2! I was thinking about how you owe me another clue about your girl."

I grin as he closes his book, holding his page with his thumb as he drops his head back with a playful groan.

I laugh,

"Come on, Scott, I was promised five clues. Number one, 'she's a she'," I roll my eyes, still unsure of how I let him get away with that one.

"Number two...?"

His eyes roll over as he ponders a second clue. "Number two," he starts, "she is... okay, number two: she smells... like jasmine and... almond – no, vanilla. Jasmine and vanilla."

Oh my God, that's the sweetest thing ever. I mean, how many guys even know the colour of their crush's eyes, let alone their scent? It's a little Edward Cullen, but it's also beyond adorable.

I try to contain my wonder to no avail; my eyes glow with awe.

"Aww, that's so sweet!" I coo, and Scott's cheeks colour almost immediately as he turns his face away with a reluctant smile. "Vanilla and jasmine, bloody hell. She sounds like a goddess. I'll keep my nose open for that."

He looks at me for a moment before his shoulders shake with a chuckle. "Good luck with that," he says. I narrow my eyes at him, determined to crack the mystery soon enough.

He turns back to his textbook, and I turn my Chopin back on, racking my brains, thinking who I've walked passed in the changing room that smells like vanilla and jasmine.

It's about a five minutes before I hear his voice again through the harmonious piano, and take out my ear bud to hear him properly.

"Hm?"

"I was just – I could hear your music, and..."

"Oh, shit, sorry, should I turn it down?" I reach into my pocket.

"No, no! I was just asking if you still play piano?"

"Wh- Jesus, you remember that?" I say, genuinely impressed.

Back in Year 2, I'd only just started – I could barely play 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star', but you'd think I was a maestro from how happy it made me to play.

Scott's laugh seems fond with fresh memory. "I remember you always volunteering to play 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star' on the way into assembly every week, and all the teachers making a fuss over their little prodigy."

I snort,

"Oh God. Yeah, I... play still. I've broadened my repertoire since then, don't worry. What about you, do you still draw?" I say, nodding to a doodle I spotted on his notebook earlier. It's an adeptly sketched flower with dainty petals, each unique, and carefully shaded grey leaves.

I remember how Scott would draw other kids' portraits in the mornings before class, accepting payment in the form of chocolate buttons or Haribos – preferably chocolate buttons. I'm sure I could find mine somewhere in the attic now, if I looked hard enough; fire truck red hair, and shiny shoes to match.

He colours up again, embarrassed, and I never thought that the great Scott Kellerman would blush so easily, but it makes me giggle. "Christ. No, yeah, not really. I'm... more into photography now."

"I like that for you," I nod, "suits you."

I really do. He pays attention to the small things; the things nobody notices.

I ask him what sort of stuff he likes to photograph because I don't feel like reading anymore, but we go back and forth for ages. He asks me what my favourite piece to play is; I ask him where he goes for inspiration. Eventually, we lose track of time, but I don't mind a bit.