Noel

On Wednesday night, I'm sitting in a sushi restaurant. I'm waiting for Kinsley to arrive.

The place she picked is off campus, about twenty minutes away. She's half-an-hour late. I'm thinking she's ghosted me.

I sigh, poking at the yam tempura I ordered. Holding off on ordering became too difficult as the minutes passed. I needed sustenance. My stomach was twisting inside out.

Kinsley skipping out wouldn't be surprising. That girl... I don't think she's fond of me. To be fair, I've given her reason to dislike me. But I don't think overriding her opinion and making the mistake of inviting other friends out for the night is enough to make her so standoffish.

Whatever made her standoffish has to do with her terrible limp. I didn't notice it until last Friday night. After our conversation, Kinsley left. She didn't look back. She gave me the prime opportunity to watch her. I stood there, beneath the streetlight, and rubbed my jaw, wondering what happened to her.

Accidents are common. What kind of accident she was in... that's something I don't want to ponder. Thinking about accidents brings back the side-effects of trauma. Any types of accidents. Knocking over a glass of milk. Breaking a dish. Falling out of a tree and breaking my arm...

The list continues on and on.

I pick up a piece of tempura and dip it in the sauce before taking a bite. If Kinsley isn't here within the next five minutes, I'm giving up. Sitting here and waiting is a waste of time. I'll text her and let her know something's come up. Exchanging phone numbers in class was a smart idea. That way we can talk about our labs and bailing out on outings.

Just when I think I'm out of luck, the bell on the door jingles. Turning around, I see Kinsley step in. It's been below average for October, signalling a rough winter. It's no surprise to see her cheeks and tip of her nose are pink. Minus that, she's prepared for what's coming. I'll give her credit for choosing the right clothing. She's wearing jeans and layers upon layers of upper body clothing. A shirt beneath her sweater, topped off with a jacket and scarf. A toque sits atop her head of blonde hair.

"Did you walk here?" I ask as she sits down across from me.

"Yes," she replies, shedding the scarf and jacket. She drapes both of them across the back of her chair. "I don't own a vehicle. Nor do I trust bus systems. They don't have any seatbelts, which is alarming."

She has a point. I've never understood how buses can drive highways without seatbelts.

"I could have picked you up," I offer. "We're close to each other on campus."

She cringes. I can't help but feel a little offended. What the hell did I do now?

"It's fine," she replies. "Walking is excellent exercise for the lungs, heart—your body. I don't mind walking."

"Okay," I shrug, glancing at her shoes. She's wearing Converse. They're terrible in Calgary. When the snow hits, so does the ice. Converse have no grip. Kinsley will end up bruising her tailbone if she wears those. "You'll have to wear better shoes when winter hits, though."

She gives me an Are you stupid? look. "I'm from Winnipeg. Our winters are much more ruthless than Calgary's. In fact, I believe we rank for the lowest average temperature in Canada and are least likely to have a day above freezing during the winter. I'm sure I'll be okay, but thanks for the advice."

Frowning, I rub my jaw and take a sip of the green tea I ordered. She's so damn condescending. I don't understand why.

My first instinct is to throw another condescending comment back at her. However, I know better than to do so. She'll dump the pot of green tea over my head. Then she'll storm out.

I also don't want to fuck this up. All I did was overpower her opinion on Friday night. Diminishing her words will not earn me brownie points.

"Well, that's what I'm here for. If you ever need more advice," I joke.

Kinsley doesn't smile or laugh. Instead, she picks up her menu. "Have you ever been here before?"

Though I hate to admit it, Kinsley has caught me off guard. Normally, girls are all over me. My rising country star reputation has served me well. Women love me. They push for autographs. Ask me if I'm single. Even Tristan—which I find awkward and wrong because she's dating Cole. I'm used to women wanting me.

Kinsley is a force to be reckoned with. She's independent, brutally honest, cold-yet-alluring, and she's determined. Even if she wants to hide in the shadows, she's a woman who will leave her mark. We're only acquaintances, but she isn't difficult to read.

"No," I reply, picking up my menu. "I'm not a fan of sushi. I figured I owed you after messing up the first time." Glancing at her, I flash her an apologetic smile. "I'm open to trying new food, though."

Kinsley sighs and puts down her menu. "I'm sorry about Friday night," she says. "I overreacted. Yes, you should have treated my opinion with respect. I shouldn't have left. What I did was rude."

Glancing at my green tea, I shake my head. "We both acted like fools, Kinsley. All that matters is we're holding ourselves accountable for the mistakes we made. Besides, I understand why some people don't like sizeable crowds." My mouth pinches to the side. "Call it even?"

To my surprise, she smiles. It's the first time I've seen her smile without it appearing forced. Kinsley has a hard shell, one she's not open to cracking. Seeing this smile... I'll take it. She's showing a sliver of herself.

"Do you?" she asks. The smile is still on her face. "Understand what it's like to be afraid of crowds, that is."

She's made a fair point. When I'm up on stage strumming my guitar and singing, the crowd dissolves. Music is my passion. However, my confidence is void when I'm speaking in front of a class. I can use music to my advantage. Not a PowerPoint on animal behaviour. When I'm presenting educational information, I second-guess myself.

"Let me rephrase that," I say. "I partially understand. I wouldn't label myself an introvert. That, however, doesn't mean certain situations don't scare me." I end my sentence with a shrug. "In the end, we're all different. Humans are a specialist species to a certain degree; they have narrow preferences about what they like. Yours being more introverted and involving a lesser, quieter population. Mine being more social."

"I feel no shame for being an introvert," she replies, holding the glare. A couple of seconds pass before she breaks the glare, moving her attention back to the menu. Her unique eyes—a remarkable shade of blue—travel across the menu. "Are you attending university for environmental studies? That's what I'm getting from the concept you brought up. About humans being a specialist species."

"Zoology," I clarify. "I enjoy understanding how animals interact with their environments. After high school, I went to college for a couple of years. Then I took a break. What about you? We're both in animal behaviour, so your future career must have something to do with animals."

"I want to be a vet," she replies.

The hard gaze in her eyes softens.

Rubbing my jaw, I nod. Huh. Maybe she isn't such a condescending jerk. These insignificant gestures—her smile, the softness in her gaze—they display humanity within her. Humanity aside, Kinsley being a vet isn't difficult to picture. Although she's cold to humans, I bet she's incredibly gentle with animals.

"That's an excellent career," I say.

"So is Zoology," Kinsley says. "There are so many options. The world is always changing, too. I think it's important to keep track of animals and how they interact with the environment."

I raise my mug of green tea. "To the animals," I say.

To my surprise, Kinsley raises her mug and clinks it against mine. She nods in agreement. After a moment of silence, filled with sipping our green tea, the server stops by.

While I was reading through the menu, I did my best to not vomit at the description of some dishes. Who the hell eats uncooked fish? But I decide on some more tempura, California rolls, and some kind of soup I can't pronounce correctly.

"Udon," Kinsley says, a hint of amusement in her voice.

"That," I say to the server.

The server writes my order and then turns to Kinsley.

"I will have the tuna sashimi, an order of dynamite rolls, and half an order of salmon rolls."

Nodding, he slips his notepad and pen into the front pocket of his apron. He tells us he'll bring over another pot of green tea. After he's gone, I turn to Kinsley. "What the hell is sashimi?" I must have skimmed over it when I was reading the menu.

"Bite-sized pieces of raw fish eaten with soy sauce and wasabi paste," she replies with a carefree vibe.

I wrinkle my nose. "That sounds disgusting."

She chuckles. "Don't knock it until you try it, Noel. It's delicious—fresh and savoury at the same time."

"Doubt it," I snort. "The description makes my skin crawl."

While we wait for our food, Kinsley and I work on our hypothesis for class. Back and forth, we discuss the concept of parental care and reproductive tactics. During the discussion and note-taking, I learn more about Kinsley. She's passionate about animals. With her brilliant mind and passion, she'll make an excellent vet. She's also thorough with her analysis of each proposed hypothesis. It's no surprise she gained a scholarship.

"Fuck," I curse, setting my pen down. I run my hand through my hair. "You're fantastic at this. Like amazingly smart."

A smile curves across her full lips. Tonight, they're coated with a sheer gloss. It sparkles beneath the dim lighting. Before she can respond to my compliment, the server arrives with our food.

We push our work aside. I toss my binder onto the floor beside my feet. Kinsley stuffs hers into the tote bag she brought. Once the table is clear, the server sets our dishes down. Although I can't say I'm a fan of sushi, it looks delicious. The udon soup I ordered is steaming. The stuff Kinsley ordered looks... interesting.

"So," I say, after a mouthful of soup. "I take it you have residence here somewhere? Are your parents still living in Winnipeg? Or did they move here, too?"

Kinsley picks up a piece of her sashimi and dips it in the sauce. The small dish rests on the side of her fancy plate. "Yes, they're still living in Winnipeg. My parents have always been home-based. They'll never leave Winnipeg. I used my aunt and uncle's address to get into the University of Calgary."

"Not even to come and visit?" I ask.

Kinsley gives me a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. In fact, it barely causes the corner of her mouth to upturn. "They have their own place back home. Besides, I prefer going home to visit. I was born and raised in Winnipeg." She shrugs, adjusting the grip on her chopsticks. "I miss it."

"Fair enough," I reply, thinking about the farm. Ever since my father ended up in jail, I've lived with Gramps. Even before then, the farm was my favourite place to go as a child. Now, I return every summer to help with the livestock, crops, and typical farm work.

"What about your parents?" Kinsley asks.

I shrug. "There's not much to say. My father is an alcoholic. He made some poor decisions. Decisions that put him behind bars. Mom left when I was sixteen. Haven't seen her since then." I stir the soup around, glancing at the floor. This conversation is making me uncomfortable. "Anyway, Gramps got me through all that shit. That's why I live him with during the summer. He owns a farm, and he's getting too old to handle the physical labour."

Kinsley nods, but doesn't press for more information. Which is surprising. Whenever I reveal my father is in prison, people will ask questions. She doesn't. It's strange, but I like it. I like how I don't have to repeat a story I've recited hundreds of times.

"So, is working on the farm part of why you are interested in Zoology?" she asks.

I smile, recalling memories. Living with Gramps on the family farm got me through everything with my father. The animals and physical labour were therapeutic for me.

"Yeah," I nod. "I guess so. The farm's also why I'm interested in country music. I found an old guitar in the barn a month after everything with my father went down. I sat in the farm's loft for hours and taught myself how to play the guitar. The rest is history."

"Music must have been a good way for you to cope, too. Alongside caring for the animals. Do you ever write any songs?"

Setting my spoon down, I grab a piece of tempura. Her question causes my heart to ache. Before returning to university, I centred my life around writing music. I have ten notebooks on the farm. They're filled with lyrics and medleys. Once school started, I had to put my creative side to rest. Which is why I'm doing covers of songs instead.

"I used to," I reply, ignoring the heart ache. One day, I'll start writing songs again. "But my music is a side project. Until I've completed my degree, I'll stick with covers."

Kinsley sets her chopsticks down and reaches for the stack of papers. I want to tell her it's pointless. We should finish eating before we work again. My words die on my tongue, though. Telling Kinsley about my dad has taken a toll on me mentally. Suddenly, I feel exhausted.

"Speaking of education, we should complete this."

"Yeah," I agree, "we should."

However, despite my sudden onset of exhaustion, there's a part of me who wants to ignore the homework. Talking to Kinsley is easier than I expected. When she's in a group, she's a nightmare. One-on-one? She's a different person. I enjoy her maturity and her keen insight on everything, despite her coming across as someone who would avoid being social. She also acts twenty years older than she is.

This girl is a walking contradiction.

A puzzle I want to solve.

She intrigues me.