yas :)))

Chapter Four: "Headboard Banging Against The Wall."

"HEY, HEY, HEY," On Wednesday morning, Clayton wedged his way between me and Yasmeen as we walked through the Main Center, the community hub of the university.

Main Center was filled with students. A fast-food eatery was in one corner and an area for people to sit and was near the middle of the room where people did promotions for events, clubs, and various activities.

Clayton shoved two green flyers in our hands. The sudden motion made me fumble the Tim Hortons coffee in my hands, and Clayton had no choice but to act quickly. He grabbed the cup before it fell out of my grasp, but a good amount of the luckily lukewarm liquid splashes from the open lid and all over his hands.

We all stopped walking when Clayton flinched at the sight of my glare, shooting me an apologetic look as Yasmeen handed him napkins that she had in her backpack.

"Sorry," Clayton said to me, wiping his hands with the napkins. "At least my hand didn't get burned. Why are you drinking such stale coffee?"

"Is it illegal?"

"Your coffee should be in the form of iced coffee, ice cap, or hot coffee. Not an in-between. You said, 'No, we're going to go with the non-existent option.'"

"My non-existent option is now all over your hand, buddy." I pointed out.

Yasmeen read over the words on the flyer, "Conference?"

"Yeah, come." Clayton ran a hand through his wavy hair. Then I took a better look at him. He was dressed sharply in a button-up and dress pants. Likely had a presentation today. "It's business casual and there'll be free food."'

"Can't. Got a midterm at that time."

Clayton then turned to me, "Jaime?"

"I have work that night and my biochem midterm the day after," I said. "Sorry, bud.'

"Well, shit." He muttered. "I keep forgetting school is taking place."

"You forget school is taking place while you're enrolled and physically on school campus at this moment?" I asked him.

"Speaking of forgetting about school," Clayton nudged me. "Do you have any exams on the Saturday of Halloween weekend?"

"Nope."

Clayton's brown eyes lit up, "Seven parties in one night? Again?"

"Confirmed." He shook me, making me laugh, and I swatted his hands off of me. "Relax, I'm excited too. I should be done most of my midterms by then, but until that moment I will be at the library when I'm not anywhere else."

"You willingly spend time at crusty Lambton?" He asked, making a face.

The relationship I had with that library had started strong when Iman and I went there to fuck around after our biology classes in first year and it got stronger when Clayton and a few others who had lived in our first-year residence had fallen asleep studying. I returned there for breaks between lectures when I didn't have time to go back home or when I needed a place to study.

I knew that the bond I had with the library was secured forever (or at least until I graduated and never had a reason to enter there ever again) when I realized that I had a specific place there that people rarely touched.

There was a non-existent plaque on the chair I sat on. No, the invisible plaque with my name on it was big enough to encompass the round table my bag would lie upon. The area included a good number of outlets that were hidden unless you looked hard enough. This was great because Lambton lacked outlets in what I considered the best study areas of the building.

"Lambton isn't crusty," I defended.

"You're only saying that because that library is practically your second home," Yasmeen said.

"You don't study at home?" He asked.

"Not when I can hear what's happening between Larine and her boyfriend," I muttered.

Clayton's eyebrows shot up. "Your roommate Larine? I've only met her once, but she does not seem like she gets it down on weekdays."

I hit him lightly on the shoulder. "Stop assuming whether a girl has sex. Or when they do. That's weird."

He put his hands up in defence. "It was an observation."

"An unnecessary one." Yasmeen chimed in.

"I'm sorry," Clayton's eyes flickered between me and Yasmeen, his brown eyes sincere. He put his hands down. "You all can hear them?"

"Just me," I said. "We share a wall."

Clayton's eyebrows furrowed. "You're hearing...everything?"

"No, no, no," I was quick to say. "But she has a headboard. It's the fucking headboard."

Clayton puffed air into his cheeks. His face started turning a light red as he tried to hold in his laughter. Yasmeen slightly shoved him and he released the air, unable to hold in his snickering. "Talk to her about it."

Yasmeen made a sound of disbelief. "You know Jay,"

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, slightly offended.

"You're the most non-confrontational person I know."

And that was supposed to be a bad thing? "I don't like conflict! Who genuinely enjoys going up to people and confronting them about things? Especially involving sex? Nope, couldn't be me."

"You're going to allow yourself to hear her headboard banging against your wall for the rest of the school year?" Clayton asked.

"No, because I will be at my other house: Lambton." I couldn't imagine how I would even address it to Larine. This was a much better solution.

When a group of people equally well dressed as Clayton called him over, he adjusted the watch on his wrist and smoothened his shirt. "Okay, I got to go. How do I look?"

"Clean," I said. Yasmeen agreed and he shot us two thumbs up before making his way to his group.

When we left the crowded building, I was instantly hit in the face with cold air. Walking down the front steps, many students moved towards the community center or left it, all in a rush to get to where they needed to be. It may have been cold to where I could see the white gust leave my mouth when I breathed, but the sun was high and bright in the sky, with no clouds anywhere in sight.

"So you have work tonight?" Yasmeen questioned.

"Yeah," I said, already dreading the long day I was going to have. "What about you? What do you have tonight?"

"I'm going to be studying and then I have a meeting with a vegan society and an ASA meeting."

"African Student Association or Arab Student Association?" I asked to clarify.

Yasmeen was part of a lot of clubs. For me, I was good with only being a general member for extracurriculars except for my current position as finance director of a biology club. However, Yas was on the executive team for vegan society and both ASA's. I was always concerned that she was overdoing it, but she seemed perfectly fine with all the tasks she signed up for.

"Arab." She said as we walked towards Roger Hall, a large building filled with multiple lecture rooms and offices.

"When will you be home?" I asked her. The heater on this floor already started doing its work, and I took off my hat and zipped down my sweater. We moved towards room 101, the biggest lecture hall where my physics class was about to take place. Students lingered outside of it, waiting for the class inside to end.

"Probably be home around ten because I have to do a group project for psych methods," She said, dropping her backpack to the ground to pull out her laptop. She had a class on the second floor of the building. "You?"

"Around 11:30." The two of us didn't have early morning classes tomorrow. The reminder made a smile grace my face. "Days of Our Lives marathon?"

The infamous soap opera lived in our head rent-free. Yasmeen and I were obsessed with it since August. We had started binge-watching the long-running soap opera that had started in the 60s from the first episode.

"Only one episode." Yasmeen said skeptically, hiking her backpack on her shoulders.

"It's never one episode."

"Okay, how about two?" She reasoned.

"We'll be watching too many episodes we'll see the sun coming up," I stated as the students started entering the lecture hall.

"How about three episodes?"

She flashed her dimples. As if that was going to work with me. It never did. "Yas."

She sighed, defeated. "Until the sun comes up?"

"Until the sun comes up."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Working retail wasn't usually that bad.

Unless you had aggravating customers. Or agonizing coworkers. Or a shift during uncomfortable hours of the day that made it seem longer than it should have been.

But once again, it really wasn't that bad.

At the local mall near my house, many people from the university came here. Yet I've rarely recognized someone coming into my store because most of my friends didn't typically shop here. The clothes here were tailored to men who walked into Starbucks having serious conversations about finances on their phones. To people who say 'I'll refer you to my assistant' when finding time for you in their schedules. Everything about the store screamed business casual.

Yet, the one time I was folding shirts near the front of the store as soft instrumental music was playing throughout the front room, a movement that caught my attention. A figure.

Aven.

He had been passing through the mall, Airpods in his ears. His brown eyes lingered on the mannequin wearing a suit near the front doors for just a moment. It was the second he took his eyes off the fabric when we locked eyes.

Damn.

Aven pulled his Airpods out of his ears as he walked toward me. "Hello, Jaime."

"Hello?" I repeated, looking up at him. Yup, still tall. "Why does that sound insanely formal coming from you?"

"No hello back?" He asked, those eyes twinkling.

"Hi, Aven," I said slowly as he put his Airpods in their case. Yup, still has the big hands.

"I almost didn't recognize you without the hat." He said, and I cracked a smile.

"My manager has a no-hats in the store rule," I shook my head. Aven was standing here. Staring down at me. At my work. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh," He rubbed the back of his neck, looking around the store. "I need a new outfit. A suit or dress pants. I'm not sure yet."

"Do you mind me asking what for?"

"You know how the goal is law school, right?" I nodded. "I need one in case I get an interview."

My eyebrows knitted in confusion.

Aven looked like a smart guy. I assumed that since he even thought of applying to law school. The last thing I needed was to say anything stupid and embarrass myself but if I was going to interact with this guy, I might as well go all out with my idiocy. "This may sound dumb, but I didn't think law schools had interviews."

"It's not dumb," His soft voice hushed even further as he chuckled. Yup, still cute. "Interviews depend on the school or if I get wait-listed or any other circumstance. I needed to get new dressy outfits."

"Lucky for you, we have dressy outfits." I gestured him over to the men's section. "Follow me."

After he told me his sizes, I went on a mission. Aven watched me work, moving through the abundant amount of clothes hanging on racks, folded, or boxed. No, not here. He was in university. Most of us here were broke and had to consider how to use our money wisely. Despite the overpriced clothing near the front, if one looked in the right areas, they could get what they needed for less. Moving to the area that had exactly what I was searching for, I made my way through and Aven followed as I put clothes over my arms. Occasionally looking at him, I grabbed whatever would look good on him.

He would look nice in a dark grey suit.

Maybe this dress shirt.

He'd look good in green with his complexion.

Too many options. I thought, handing him the outfits I figured he could get through in the short period he had before the store closed. Aven's eyes went wide. "Uh, I don't think I need all of this stuff or can afford them."

"Trust me. You can afford this. No one looks here, and it has the best shit for a good price."

"The best shit?"

I nodded. "You'd probably be paying for one suit that they display near the front of the store, with everything that's in my hand. Trust me."

"Trust you, huh?"

"What do you have to lose?"

"Potentially my money."

I rolled my eyes as he followed me into the fitting area. I glanced at the clock. He had twenty minutes left until closing time to see what he liked. Plus, it was Wednesday. Few people came into this store on Wednesday. We were unlikely to be bothered.

Moments later, I was collecting clothes from one of the dressing rooms near the entrance when Aven's voice rang out. "Jaime?"

"Yeah?" Holding a pile of clothes in my arms, I headed out of the dressing room.

I almost dropped the clothes.

Aven stood in front of the mirror, fixing the cuffs on his sleeves when he turned around. He was wearing dark dress pants and a gray buttoned-up dress shirt. The sleeves of the shirt defined the muscles he had gained from years and years of volleyball. Besides the fact that he was wearing Nikes on his feet, he looked good. Really good.

To add to the look, he brought out the chain that had been tucked under the shirt.

I was 100% certain that I stood there staring at him like a gaping fish.

"What do you think?" He asked me quietly.

Setting the clothes down on the counter, I slowly walked towards him, my eyes swooping from his hair down to his Nike shoes. "You look great," I said honestly, turning him around to see himself in the mirror once again. "You don't dress up much, do you?"

A scoff left his lips as he constantly tried fixing himself as if something was wrong.

Nothing was wrong.

"Is it that obvious?"

"A little, but it's okay," I assured him. "To make yourself more comfortable, walk up and down in it."

"What?"

"Walk. Get comfortable because you look like someone is forcing you to do this and when you go for an interview in that outfit you need to own it. Walk with me."

I didn't give him any more chances to speak as I turned on my heel. But I knew he was following me by his cologne. The scent wasn't strong, but I was officially around him enough to know if he was near me. And his cologne smelled like the way he looked now, on the volleyball court and in general: good.

"Why d'you come to the mall so late?" I asked.

"I had volleyball practice," He said, and he held a fist to his mouth, hiding a yawn. "I don't have time this week and this was my only shot to look around."

"How long have you been playing volleyball?"

"Since elementary school," Aven said as I moved to the small jeans section of the store, avoiding the eyes of my coworkers who were talking near the cash register. Their eyes stuck to us like glue. "I played rep growing up. Did you play sports growing up? Or do you now?"

"I played rugby in high school, but I got bored with it in grade 12," I told him, starting to refold the jeans that were out of place. "What made you get into volleyball, though?"

"I have this friend back home in BC--I'm from new Pensely, it's a little town a few hours from Vancouver. The friend used to play on the volleyball team. I was going to his place one day after he had practice, so I watched. The ball had rolled over to me when he told me to try to serve it over to him. I did an overhand and the coach saw and thought I should try for the team."

"All because of an overhand serve?" I asked as Aven leaned against the wall next to where jumpsuits were hanging.

"Actually, I think it was mostly because I was the tallest one in my grade. My overhand was horrible."

"Do you and your friend both play volleyball?"

"No," He said. "Ezekiel plays in the NBA. Raptors."

My head whipped in his direction at the familiar name, "Wait. Ezekiel? Iman's brother?"

Iman had played a variety of sports growing up while his brother had stuck to basketball his entire life. He had gotten drafted before I entered HU. "Yeah," Aven said. "Have you met him?"

"Once back in first year when he flew over to see Iman," Like Iman, Ezekiel was tall, brazen, and talented. Realization overcame me at the connection he and Iman had besides volleyball. "But that explains why you were fazed by Iman asking you so many questions. Because you both grew up with them in BC." British Columbia was a province on the west coast of Canada.

"I did. Iman's been asking questions like that since he could speak," His eyes twinkled when I glanced up at him. He seemed more at ease. Comfortable. "Where are you from?"

"I'm from Port Yonge."

"Oh, that area with all the Port cities like Port Valley, Port Meadow?"

I nodded, assessing him once more as I finished folding. "You finally look like no one is holding a gun to your head. Go try on the other shirt."

Moments after he had disappeared back into the dressing room, one of my coworkers, Rebecca, slid up beside me. "Who's that?"

"That's Aven. He goes to my uni."

"There's no way you're friends with a guy like that."

"I don't even think we're on a friend level," I told her. "He's looking for outfits and we have a mutual friend in common."

Her eyes widened over my shoulder. "He has to get that."

Aven walked towards us, seeming more confident than he had been in the first outfit. He wore another pair of black pants and a light-colored button-up. A dark blue tie lay on his chest. "What do you think about the outfit?" He asked, eyes on me.

"Do a little spin," Rebecca said and his eyes cut to hers in surprise. Becca. It wasn't only her who had her eyes on Aven. The rest of my coworkers who were by the cashiers were watching.

He glanced at me once before he did as she asked, slowly and awkwardly, forearms outward. Even though we had a few customers left, my coworkers hollered and Aven put a hand over his eyes, laughing. "Oh, God."

"C'mon," I told him with a smile, gesturing him to follow me back into the fitting rooms. He walked over to the mirror at the end of the tiny hall as I grabbed the leftover clothes from the room across from the one he was using. "How do you feel it in?"

"Good." He said, straightening the tie in the mirror as if it was interview day and not almost 11 pm on a Wednesday. "Really good."

"That's what matters," I said. I needed to find something to occupy myself with before he saw that I couldn't take my eyes off of him. "'The clothes don't make the man. The man makes the clothes.'"

Aven looked at me through the reflection of the mirror, his brown eyes curious. "Isn't that a country song? The 'clothes don't make the man' part."

"It is. Country music slaps." I mumbled, tearing my eyes off him to fumble with the clothes in my hand as if I was checking if the price tag was still on it.

He made a face. "What? What does that mean?"

"You really aren't from the Jasper Bay area and it's showing," I commented. "When I say it slaps, I mean it's good."

"You aren't from the Jasper Bay area either." He pointed out.

"My hometown is about two hours away. We all talk the same way here." I informed him. "And as I said, country music slaps."

"No, it does not." He stated.

"You might want to stop before you start."

"Jaime."

"Aven," I warned, looking up at him as he laughed, brushing it off.

He stopped adjusting his clothes, clearing his throat. "You didn't answer my question."

"What question?"

"What do you think of this outfit?"

Oh.

I crossed my arms, trying not to seem uneasy. I better not have appeared to be as I looked him up and down. This outfit even went better with the Nike shoe on his feet, and I struggled to find the right word to describe him at this moment. As I surveyed him, he took the tie off, showing me the outfit without it. To add to that, he brought the silver chain that was tucked away back out to lay upon his chest.

The damn chain.

"You look good," Good. Sure. That was definitely the right word, Jaime. Nice job. "Get this one and the other. And the tie set I showed you with the black, blue, and grey ones. Those are on sale too."

"Thanks. I'll get those." He said quietly, shooting me a small and endearing smile before heading back inside the changing room and taking his presence and scent and the outfit and himself with him.

I took a deep breath, leaning the back of my head against the mirror while the number nine on the door seemed to stare at me.

"Get your shit together," I muttered, bringing the clothes back to the counter.

When Aven was back in his regular outfit and had paid for his items, he gave me a little wave before he left the store. Rebecca slid back over to me. "He's hot and adorable at the same time. Did you see the way he got shy when we told him to turn?"

"When you told him to turn." I pointed out, laughing.

"He seems like he could be a keeper, you know?" She nudged me, practically wiggling her eyebrows for me to do something regarding him.

"Becca."

"Did I lie?" No, I don't think you did, but we'll see.