Chapter Three: "You Couldn't Tell By My Instagram?"

ON MONDAY AFTERNOON, I sat at a table at the Sheppard Valley Long Term Care Home.

Next to me, the fall leaves were flying frantically in the air. The wind only got more aggressive as the enormous tree outside slammed the window next to me over and over again with its branches. 

Yet, in front of me, not aggressive in the slightest was Ms. Green, an amiable lady whose white hair was always up in a bun, humming softly under her breath as she debated her next move in our chess game.

Like all applicants to Dalhousie's research position, I had to be well-rounded. That meant tons of volunteering.

Volunteering at this care home involved sessions of cognitive games with the residents. While the rest of the volunteers were doing mind exercises involving a recall game, I sat by the side of the room with Ms. Green as we attempted to play chess. She always managed to sneak out of doing any activity she didn't feel like she had to do.

"Ms. Green," One of my co-volunteers tried to get her to change stations from the 'break' she was taking when she gave him a kind smile.

"Just a second, dear, we're almost finished up here."

My co-volunteer looked at me and I nodded in agreement, claiming that I will bring her right over once we were done.

That wasn't going to happen.

When we had sat here twenty minutes ago, Ms. Green had put the pieces in random places on the board, and we were absentmindedly shifting the pieces despite me having a decent knowledge of the game.

When the volunteer moved away, Ms. Green sighed, "That boy will fall for anything. I'm 100% certain he thinks I have dementia."

"You don't."

"I know that but what he doesn't know won't hurt him." She lifted her chin up. "Speaking of boys, any new men on the table?"

She asked me this question every week. "No."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure or else you'd be the first to know."

Talking to Ms. Green was great. She had never been married or had kids, considering herself the cool aunt to her siblings' children growing up. She had traveled often to anywhere and everywhere she could, telling me adventures she had taken over the years. Despite her very interesting life, she was content staying here for the rest of it.

"What about you?" I asked. 

"You'd be the first to know." She repeated as she moved her rook diagonally. 

"No more flirting with Joe over there?" I nodded over to the man on one of the bicycle machines where the group of seniors were on the machines to test their heart rates.

Joe noticed Ms. Green and me looking, shooting us a wink and a wave. While I waved back, Ms. Green scowled, "No."

"Why?" I teased. "Did he irritate you recently or something? Because the last time I was here you were all for him when he was playing that piano in the foyer. I believe what you said was along the lines of 'if a strong man at that age can handle an instrument like that so gracefully, imagine what he must be like in-'"

"Oh, shut up." She mumbled and I laughed, moving the pawn forward. She retaliated, moving her queen from one side of the board to the other, not caring about any of the obstacles in her path as she took my pawn away and put the queen where my pawn had been.

"I win." 

My jaw dropped. "Excuse me? You have no idea how to play chess."

"This isn't regular chess anymore," She informed me. "This is my version of chess."

I huffed. Stubborn yet amicable Ms. Green. "Tell me the rules of this version of chess."

"The rule is that I win every time." She said when my phone buzzed in my pocket. Her eyebrows rose. "Your new boyfriend?"

"For the hundredth time, not my boyfriend," She opened her mouth once more, ready to question me again. "Meaning I don't have a boyfriend. It's just Mariam."

"Code for boyfriend, right?"

"Seriously?" She cackled in response, shifting pieces on the board as I pulled out my phone.  

mariam: omg.

(2) mariam: JAIME.

Me: WHAT?

mariam: I HAVE YOUR BAG.

Telling Ms. Green that I would be right back, I quickly made my way out of the main room where everyone was and to the room small room where all of the volunteers kept their bags and jackets before we started our sessions.

She has to be lying. I really hoped she was lying so I wouldn't have to run back to campus to make the switch. 

Running down the hill the other day was enough running for the entire month.

Grabbing the backpack I had arrived with, I opened it. 

Shit. 

Mariam's camera bag lay inside of the backpack along with her laptop.

Me: HOW?

(2) Me: AND AGAIN? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? YOU LEFT THE HOUSE FIRST.

mariam: WE'RE BUYING NEW BAGS.

mariam: Are you still at volunteering???

Me: Yeah.

mariam: I hope you didn't swing that bag around. My camera is in there and I need it. I'm at the Wright building. Top floor.

Me: I'll be there in less than an hour.

mariam: thank you!!!

mariam: pls hurry.

mariam: no but seriously we need new bags.

Me: established buddy.

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

"Here," I said to Mariam who looked relieved when I handed her camera bag for the second time in a matter of days and then her backpack. She handed me my own and I hiked it upon my shoulders as I surveyed the area.

In a studio room on the top floor of the Wright building, everything around me was busy. Three royal purple backdrops and lights were set up, and athletes in their jerseys in groups or posing as the photographers of The Caduceus, took their pictures. 

"Have I ever told you how much I love you?" Mariam asked me while batting her eyelashes.

"Yes." I said dryly. 

Mariam rolled her eyes. "Okay, well, I'll repeat it. I love you."

"I'm going to buy another backpack after my lab tomorrow so this doesn't happen again," I muttered. "What exactly is going on here?"

Looking around once again, I noticed Iman in his volleyball jersey talking to a few of his teammates in one of the lines.

"Team photos and photoshoots for every person to be put on the athletic website. Today's the men's varsity soccer, volleyball, and hockey teams. That means Aven's here." She said knowingly.

I frowned. "Did we suddenly forget what I did the night of Homecoming?"

"We're going to suddenly forget that you overreacted on the night of homecoming,"

She could not talk. Mariam wouldn't let something like that bother her for days. Me? I was going to mull over it for the next five years, cringing publically whenever I remembered.

She nodded her head over to where Aven was sitting in front of a photographer for his individual picture. He wore his uniform, the number 9 right above the white volleyball he held with both hands in front of his abdomen as he looked at the camera seriously before the picture was taken.

Well, then. I clapped my hands softly, holding them against my chest and tucked them under my chin. "Thank you for letting me know he's here. This just means that this is a place I can avoid him."

"Or talk to him."

"With the knowledge that I was deeply looking through his account?" I shoot her a look. "I don't think so."

"I don't believe that."

I shook my head when the editor-in-chief at The Caduceus, Owen, approached us. "Yo, Jay. Are you helping out today?"

"Um-"

"She is," Mariam chirped. She practically shoved me in his direction. "She's going to help you do the setups and bring in the chairs for the team photos later and...do anything else you want. Go."

Owen gestured for me to follow him and I shot Mariam my middle finger. She grinned, shooting me a thumbs up as if something was going to happen.

I spoke too soon.

After helping bring chairs into the room for team photos and setting food on the table that the newspaper team had ordered, I surveyed the food table. There were tarts, danishes, muffins, chips, candy in bags and a few slices of pizza left in the multiple boxes. 

Twizzlers?

Coffee Crisp?

Twizzlers?

Coffee Crisp?

Glancing over at the bag filled with Aero bars, I wrinkled my nose. Not going to consider it. 

By the time I decided to choose to take a Twizzler from the bag, someone slid up next to me.

Shit.

Their hand hovered and, like me, they were deciding between the Twizzlers or the Coffee Crisp. The movement had me glance at their face, at the black sweater they had thrown over their jersey, and then at the silver chain dangling around their neck. Before I could stop myself, the following comment slipped out of my mouth, "Nice chain."

Aven froze for a second. His eyes flickered at me as he grabbed a Twizzler from the bag, clearing his throat. "Um, thank you."

His voice was deep yet softer than I expected. It wasn't smooth either. Instead, it was raspy and if I closed my eyes not knowing who it belonged to, I would have thought of him to be a rugged or a burly sort of man. From the small phrase, I had already gathered that even though his voice was low, the way Aven spoke was almost shy.

When I came to that conclusion, I figured this failed attempt at a conversation would be over, but he looked at me once again. "I like your hat."

Today I wore my neon green beanie which matched my black and green sweater. "Thanks."

There was a moment of silence as I reached for a Twizzler for myself. Suddenly, I turned to him at the same time he twisted to me, both of us saying, "Where did you-"

I snorted, slapping a hand over my mouth at the sound but Aven only looked amused. I instantly removed my hand, "Ignore that."

"I'll try."

"As I was saying," I stressed out my words and he grinned, glancing down at his shoes before looking back at me. "Where did you get the chain?"

"It was a gift for my birthday about a few years ago," He lifted his chain and it glinted in the bright lighting of the room. "Where'd you get the hat?"

"Amazon."

His eyes narrowed. This was the third time today someone didn't believe what I was saying.

"I'm not kidding," I adjusted my hat when I realized the height difference between us. I knew he was tall from a distance but standing close to him made a huge difference. "I searched up neon hats, looked through, and bought five cheap ones. On sale."

He observed me for a second, the corners of his lips twitching. What was he going to say? 

His next question came out a lot quieter...and slower. "You wouldn't happen to be Jaime, would you?"

Oh my-

He was struggling not to smile. I fought the urge not to put my face in my hands as if that would hide me away from him at this second. "You know."

"It's fine," He assured me, eyes on the Twizzler in his large hand. The licorice looked like it would be engulfed by his entire hand if he closed his fingers around it whereas, in mine, it almost took up my entire palm despite how long my fingers were. "You were probably just looking at people on the team or something, right?"

Huh? "Why would you think I was?"

"Well," He cleared his throat. "I saw you were at the game with your friend with the camera a while ago. Her name's Mariam, right?" I nodded. "You were wearing the orange version of the hat you're wearing right now."

"You saw me?" I asked, very surprised considering how focused he had been during that game. Interesting. "Aren't you a captain? Shouldn't you have been paying attention to uh, I don't know, the game?"

His eyes lit up at my words but he narrowed them in rebuttal. "Don't pin this on me."

"You're the one who was staring at me." I retorted.

"I wasn't staring," He tried correcting. "I was wondering who the girl was under the hat. Same with homecoming. You were wearing a yellow hat."

"Yeah, you were staring at me then too. You said it was a nice hat, I remember. I wasn't drunk at Parkdale." I said and he didn't say anything to that, not bothering to defend himself. "And for the record, yes, I'm Jaime."

"Hi Jaime. I'm Aven," His name sounded better coming out of his mouth. Close up, the man was prettier. And taller. And he smelled good. Holy. "We can spin this conversation to you liking a picture of mine from like, over three years ago."

"And we'll spin it right back to you staring at me during your game," The information on this left me smug. And a little glad to know that I wasn't the only one looking. "And at Homecoming."

"Your hats are very bright, okay?" He justified in a quick manner.

"I'm kidding," I assured him, surprised by his easily embarrassed nature. "I like bright hats. And we're going to put my little incident behind us."

"Understood."

"So." I took a bite of my Twizzler. 

Aven did the same. He wasn't going to end the conversation. I fought the urge to grin at that fact. Then almost frowned at how quickly I was elated. "So."

"What's your major?"

"Criminology, you?"

"Biophysics."

He made an expected face, looking stunned. "You do physics for fun?"

"Don't start."

"What? It's a valid question."

"It's a question I've been asked a million times," I changed the topic. "Do you want to be a lawyer?"

He nodded. "That's the dream. What about you? What's the dream?"

Before I could answer, Immanuel sauntered over, putting his large hands on both of our shoulders. He shook us slightly, the guy filled with energy judging by the way he was beaming. "I see you two have officially met."

Aven didn't look bothered by Iman's giddy behaviour. Actually, he looked more familiar with it than I did, judging by the slight smile that crossed his lips. Iman glanced over at me as he dropped his hands. "Where are you coming from? Class?"

"Volunteering."

"Where do you volunteer?" Aven asked.

"At Sheppard Valley," I answered. He had nice eyebrows too. Damn.  "The Long-Term Care Home."

"What do you do there?"

"Cognitive exercises for a research study."

Before Aven could ask another question, Iman interjected once again, "Do you think I look good in this jersey?"

"Why the hell am I going to answer that question?" I asked as he pulled on the bottom of his jersey as if I couldn't see it at all.

"Is that a no? I'm glad they went with the mostly purple jerseys instead of yellow jerseys because I think yellow would blind other teams, you know? C'mon tell me."

I leaned against the food table, facing the two men. "Iman."

"Answer. C'mon, it's for science."

"Immanuel."

"I'm going to take that as a yes." He quipped. "Now what about my arms? Do they look good against the colour?"

When he lifted one arm up and started flexing, I rolled my eyes as Aven had a smile on his face at Iman's antics.

Looking over at Mariam, she was watching the interaction with bright eyes. I knew she had asked Immanuel to come over to make my interaction less awkward than it may have seemed to the outside eye.

But it didn't feel off.

Aven leaned against the table next to me. I was suddenly very aware of the minimal amount of space between the two of us when he asked me, "How do you know Iman?"

"We met last year," Immanuel cut in as I was about to respond and if my glare was able to send him to the other side of the room, he'd be there. "Biology lecture. Then me and Mariam went out for a while during our first year, so we got closer but we're all still good friends."

Aven's eyebrows raised, "Wait, you and Mariam are still friends?"

"Yeah," Iman shrugged, rocking on the heels of his shoes. "I swear you know that."

The man was restless, shuffling his feet like there was a song playing loud and clear in his head. When he backed up, took two long strides forward, and jumped high enough to graze the ceiling of the room, neither Aven nor I were surprised. His behaviour wasn't odd. It was just Iman.

"It was mutual, remember? Yeah, we almost dated for a year but we're good. We're still friends," Iman put his hands on his hips, eyes searching Aven's face. "What about you, man?"

"What?" Aven took another bite of his Twizzler.

"Any girls? Or guys? Or people in general. I actually don't know who you are or aren't into. You don't have to tell me, though." Iman quickly said the last part but Aven shrugged.  

"I'm into girls but, uh, none."

"And you don't have a physical preference." Iman suddenly said. I froze, a conversation Iman and I had months ago about the people we've been involved with came to mind. When Iman said physical, he had meant racial as well. The realization of what he was doing made me want to snap at him but partly thank him for telling me because you never really knew. Mariam must have told him about my sudden interest in Aven.

Aven nodded, "But I'm not doing the dating thing right now."

"What do you do?" Iman pestered with narrowed eyes. "Entertain? You know what? What have you been doing for the past three years here, bro? You don't want to meet the right person?"

"That's not what I said," Aven said slowly and I grew surprised that he wasn't bothered by Iman's persistent questions. Mariam was right. They probably did grow up with each other. 

Instead, he glanced over at me grabbing a small muffin. He tilted his chin in the direction of the Twizzler left idle in my hand, "So, you like Twizzlers?"

"Yeah," I said. "My favourite candy but Coffee Crisp is close. What about you?"  

"Same." 

Iman made a face at both of us. "Twizzlers are disgusting." He reached between us to grab a handful of Sour Patch Kids Candy. 

"You're disgusting." I shot back. 

"Tell your taste buds to grow up," he shot at me, taking my hat off my head. The height difference between Iman and I was large enough for him to put his hand up, knowing that I couldn't reach it. I shoved him in the stomach, pinching his side and when he winced, his hand came down and I snatched my hat back.

"Bully." He mumbled as I put it back on. He grabbed another handful of candy but I didn't miss the smile he had flashed me before he walked away from me and Aven.

"Iman's special," I commented.

"You don't know the half of it, trust me," Aven said, looking at where his teammates were waiting to get their pictures taken in one of the lines.

There were more members on the volleyball team than I expected. The team itself was a sample of Herringway as a whole. "How many people are on your team?"

"There's 19 of us," Aven said, finishing his muffin and he folded the muffin wrapper in half before holding it to a quarter as he spoke. "All different years since it's varsity." He pointed to one guy, a big white guy with brown hair. "Bruno is in first. He's the oldest and Roy," He pointed to a lanky, baby-faced east Asian guy with dark hair. "Is the oldest. Ph.D. student."

"What year are you in?" I asked him as if I didn't already know.

Aven didn't answer for a moment, lifting his hand with the muffin wrapper in it up so he could throw it into the trash can about two meters away. When it fell into the trash can, he turned his head to me. "You couldn't tell by my Instagram?"

I groaned, putting my hands over my face as he grinned, obviously loving that he had this over on me.  "I'm in fourth." He answered and reaching into his sweater he took out his phone, scrolling through it.

My eyes widened at the sight of him looking at my Instagram page. "What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to guess your year," He said, flicking through my public pictures and for the first time since we started speaking, I felt exposed.

Pulling up to a picture of me last year at a Halloween party where I had dressed up as a cat with Mariam on my other side in a sexy nurse costume, Aven's eyebrows pinched together. "This was at the Delta house, no?"

Delta Kappa Epsilon. The name of one of the smaller fraternity houses near campus almost slipped my mind for a second as I tried to recall how many house parties my friends and I had gone that Halloween. We tried to hop into every party we could find on that day. "Yeah, they have good parties."

"Yeah, they sure do." He mumbled, sounding distracted as he kept his eyes on his phone. "You don't have any pictures of Herringway before last year so I'm assuming you're in second."

"You're right," I confirmed.

Then Aven did the unspeakable. Double tapping on a full-body photo of me on the beach that I had taken the summer before university had started. Then he unliked it, looking up at me innocently. "Oops."

"Will you-"

He burst out laughing.

His laugh was not quiet whatsoever.

It was as deep as his voice. The sound cut through the air for a brief moment that I would replay in my head for the following days before dwindling off as he settled for a pleased look on his face at my irritation.

Before I knew it, his entire team was being called for the group photo.

Aven twirled his phone in his hands as he pushed off the table. Was it possible to simply like the way someone moved? Go "I'll see you around, Jaime."

About two hours later, I was sitting in my biochemistry lecture next to Mariam in the big and slowly crowded lecture hall when my phone buzzed with a notification from Instagram.

Looking down, I scoffed, knowing that this was coming.

aven montaque is now following you.