Chapter Twelve: "The Physics Part Will Never Sit Right With Me."

MS. GREEN WAS RIGHT. I hated it.

While I was capable of many things, construction was a career I would never find myself wanting to attain.

The last time I had ever done something close to what I did today, I had almost hammered my finger off. The result led to me sitting off to the side telling stories and handing my sister the pieces she needed to assemble my bed frame.

My joints ached. My body hurt. My fingers were sore with calluses that I haven't seen in years. I knew that the second I woke up tomorrow morning I was going to constantly wince in pain. The fact that I was contemplating doing this again made me realize how idiotic I had to have been to even go through with it. There were a few more sessions throughout the school year but at this rate, I'd rather stick pins in my eyes.

Apparently, I looked worse than I felt. Yasmeen spotted me once I got through the front doors of our house. Her eyes went wide, "Why do you look like you've been hit by a train?"

"Because I've been hit by a train, a car, a bus—any vehicle you can think of. That's what I feel like." I groaned, dropping my backpack on the ground and reaching for my friend to grasp her into a pathetic hug.

Mariam appeared, bundled in her coat and holding a bristol board in one hand. Her camera bag was in the other. "Damn, what the hell happened to you?"

"I helped build a house today," I muttered, looking over at her outfit as she started putting on her boots near the front. In fact, Yasmeen was bundled up ready to leave the house as well. She was wearing her back hijab, clad in a bubble jacket and a scarf for the cold weather.

That's when I groaned, remembering that tonight was Aven and Iman's game. Mariam could tell my memory decided to start working, already slipping out of her boots. "Go take a shower. Don't stand and look at me like that. We promised Iman we'd be his cheerleaders and you know how grouchy he is when people don't deliver. So go, go, go."

We made it in time for me to see both Iman and Aven on the court. When we approached the bleachers, a raised hand stood out in the crowd. Dev. He was sitting in the stands. Mariam, Yasmeen and I joined him, making easy conversation as the game started.

Mariam held up the sign for Iman as the team played against the opposing university I don't recognize in blue. When Iman hit the ball over the net, my friends and I cheered loud enough for everyone to stare at us but even Dev joined in, all of us yelling. The familiar sound of the shutter from Mariam's camera was heard next to me as she got up and left the bleachers a few times, taking a couple of pictures as the game moved along.

It's when a familiar figure with a buzzcut sauntered over to us when her camera came down. The sign for Iman in Mariam's hand wasn't being held up anymore. The shutter from her camera was no longer heard for the rest of the game.

I knew the two had been talking through Twitter ever since the day of my physics midterm but if they had met up between that time, I had no clue. It didn't matter. They hit it off easily. Kyle sat down next to Mariam as Yasmeen took the sign from her.

I wasn't sure if Iman saw Mariam and Kyle together but if he did, he didn't show it as they won the first set. When they were moving onto the second set in their purple and yellow jerseys, my eyes stuck to Aven as the team switched sides.

We texted a bit over the weekend, but it was mostly sending different songs or albums to each other. Aven didn't label his playlists with anything I expected. That was the first thing I had noticed when I first got a hand of his account. He labelled them with numbers. R&B was '2', throwback was '3'. Music that I considered hype was '9'.

It was music I would've listened to before a basketball game when I was in high school. It was obvious that Aven had listened to '9' before he stepped out into the gymnasium.

He was a force on the court whether he was playing or not. It was in the way he walked, no sign of humour on his face, only determination that emitted with his posture of squared shoulders. When he was playing, he dominated the sport. Somehow, even though he wasn't the tallest person on the team, he made himself seem like the tallest person.

Yet now as he was off the court, he took one look at the scoreboard from the first set that they won. It didn't seem to satisfy him. If it did, he didn't give any chance to change his expression, moving over to join his team standing around their coach.

Yasmeen nudged me, "You're drooling."

"I am not," I swatted her hand away, almost wanting to check for good measure because holy fucking shit. Aven was the most attractive athlete I've ever set my eyes on. No. He's one of the most attractive men I've ever laid my eyes on.

He got onto the court on the far left corner but when the whistle blew he moves smoothly towards the middle back. I could watch him all day if I could.

When the game was over, people watching on the bleachers started to disperse, a few lingering behind as the teams disappear into the locker rooms. Kyle had left during the second set, having to run to grab art supplies for a project and he had thanked Dev for giving him a key to their apartment since he had apparently lost his.

When everyone had disappeared, I got a text message from Iman telling us to wait for him to return. Mariam took that break to head over to the bathroom as Dev, Yasmeen and I converse. The sound of a ball bouncing dragged my attention away from the conversation.

Aven wore his team sweater underneath a big grey sweater for added padding for outside. He stopped bouncing the volleyball in his hand. His long legs climbed the bleachers in our direction. He dabbed up Dev, then introduced himself to Yasmeen before he turned to me with a straight face, "Hey, dumbass."

My jaw dropped and Aven burst out laughing, hands up, "You called me it first. You know you swear a lot?"

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do." Yasmeen cut in for a moment before turning back to Dev.

I shot her glare, "I don't." Aven clearly didn't think so. "I don't." I repeated.

"Anyways," He was fighting amusement at my annoyance. "How was your midterm? I didn't get to ask."

"It was decent." I think I did pretty well. I went into it with more confidence than I thought and most likely pulled it off.

Yasmeen and Dev continued their deep conversation about hockey. Her dad's usually watched it so she understood everything Dev was saying about hat tricks, cross-checking and slapshots. Aven snorted when he noticed, dropping his duffel bag at Dev's feet before getting off the bleachers. He threw the ball over to me. "Dev can talk about hockey for hours."

That reminded me of my biomethods group but there was a glitter of excitement in Dev's brown eyes when he spoke about hockey.

I hopped off the bleachers, tossing the ball back to Aven. He caught the ball smoothly. "I saw your hat the second you came in."

"It's not even bright," I said, staring up at the high net, knowing that if I raised my hand I wouldn't be able to reach it.

"Yeah, but it's on your head. Usually, people take their hats off when they're inside but no. Not you."

"Anyways," He grinned, bouncing the ball. "You did really good. Congrats on this win, number nine."

Aven's hands on the ball slowed their movement. His eyes drop to the ground before meeting mine again. The tips of his ears turned a light shade of pink. "Thanks, Jaime."

"There were, like, three straight kills that you did on the same guy on the other team. I think it was number three. He looked like his face was going to explode 'cause it turned so red."

Aven's eyebrows went up. "Didn't you only play ball growing up?" He tossed me the ball and I caught it with ease, sending it back with a chest pass.

"Yeah, but my sister played for her university team. I used to go to her games all the time. I know the game. My main role is to explain everything to Mariam."

"Oh," Aven nodded slowly. "So, you're only here because of Mariam? Not because I asked for you to come out and support the team?"

"You didn't ask me to come and support the team, you asked me to come and watch you play. I came to watch you and Iman play."

He hung his head, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "I see how it is."

"Aves, you don't need me here."

At the nickname, his eyes flashed with an undecipherable notion for a fleeting moment. "I thought we established that you're my good luck charm?"

"I'm not," I said, now being the one to fight the smile on my face. "You've won games without me in your presence. Go buy a rabbit's foot if you suddenly believe in superstition."

"So rude," Then he raised his arm so that his hand curled over the net, showing off his height. An instant scowl came to my face as I snatched the ball back from his grip, shoving it into his chest as he laughed.

"We going?" Dev asked when he and Yasmeen came over as Iman ran into the room. Iman took two steps towards the net, dipping his hand over before quickly retreating it. How he still had energy after that game I didn't understand.

"Kyle came and took my keys," Dev told Aven as Iman ducked under the net, smacked the ball out of Aven's hands and started dribbling it absentmindedly.

"He still hasn't found his own?" Aven asked.

"Of course not," Dev said when Iman started to bounce the ball around me to annoy me. Then Dev turned to me and Yasmeen. "He seems to have a thing for your friend, Mariam."

Iman stopped bouncing the ball.

After knowing Iman for over a year, shock wasn't an emotion that easily came to him. When it did, it was too obvious. Like now.

I took the ball from him quickly, rolling it in my hands as he recovered. Yet his brown eyes were heavy when he glanced down at me. No one else seemed to notice since Yasmeen obliviously said, "I think they'd be cute together."

Aven tapped me on my elbow after a lull in the conversation, "Did you listen to the last song I sent you?"

"Yes," I passed the ball back to Iman, perking up. "It was so good. The riff was insane. I heard a similar one in this rock song."

"I saw a couple of rock looking songs in one of your playlists."

"Rock's a good genre."

"Jaime doesn't discriminate when it comes to music." Iman bounced the volleyball between his legs. He dribbled the ball off towards Yasmeen's direction but he faked it out of her reach before retreating.

"You should see her room," Iman continued as he moved around Yasmeen who was still failing to get the ball off of him. "Her room in first year was covered with so many posters. She once forced me to listen to this entire album. That was an hour I'll never get back."

"It was a good album." I defended.

"It was mediocre," He put a finger up, getting in my face. "Plus, the album made me think that you never left your emo phase."

"That was a phase? It's a lifestyle." I said, pushing his hand down.

"Shut it down Tumblr 2014," Iman muttered and Dev laughed.

"You should come over and check it out," Yasmeen suggested, and my eyes went wide. Iman subtly shot her a thumbs up.  My worst and best wingman and wingwoman ever.

Aven's eyes slid over to me and I played it off nonchalantly with a shrug. Mariam entered the room, heading over to us when Aven asked, "You free tomorrow night?"

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

The first thing I did when I got home the following day was run to Yasmeen's room. One of her hijabs was already on. "Aven will be here in five."

"Why do you sound nervous?" She asked, closing a textbook and walking over to me.

"I'm not nervous."

"You sound nervous," Larine said as she passes by, walking towards the bathroom.

"I'm not nervous," I take a deep breath, wiping my hands on my track pants. "It's chill. We're listening to music. We'll probably argue over something stupid. It's Aven."

"You're probably going to watch an episode of Glee again, or something" Yasmeen raised a curious eyebrow as she finished, making her way past me. "Relax."

When Aven appeared at my front door, he was wearing his Nike sweater, the hood over his head. His backpack hung off one shoulder, duffel bag nowhere in sight which meant he didn't have practice today.

Yasmeen peeked her head into the hallway, raising a hand as I closed the door behind him. "Hi, Aven."

I shot her a warning glare as Aven gave her a wave. In a matter of seconds, Yasmeen, being the mother of the house, offered him anything to eat. When Aven politely declined, Yasmeen excused herself to go upstairs but not before squeezing my shoulder in a way that said 'loosen up'.

I did. Even when Aven's tall presence followed me in the direction of my room. Once he was at the threshold, his eyes went wide at the blown-up picture of Frank Ocean from a concert years ago on one side of my wall. Aven walked into my room, eyeing a few of the smaller photos that surrounded the larger Frank ocean one. They were all organized.

"I'm not seeing much country up here," Aven mumbled as he took out his work and I put on the album. "You're not doing the 'yeehaw and giddy up' playlist any justice, Jaime."

Aven sat upon my bed, his long legs outstretched on the duvet as he typed on his laptop and I played an album from my speakers in the corner. We worked silently. The only time he spoke up to tell me what he rated a song. Most of the ratings were slightly above average in my opinion. That was expected considering his music taste didn't appeal to rock but occasionally I would catch him nodding along to the melody.

His head lifted when the first song I had played start to repeat itself about an hour later. "What are your thoughts?"

"7."

"7?" He snickered, standing from the bed. He made his way over to me, bending to look through the history of the songs on my laptop. "It's an 8. An 8.6 at max."

"I didn't think we were getting specific here."

"It's an 8.6," I said, not liking the way he looked amused at me getting riled up. Not liking the fact that him being close to me as he scrolled through the history made me warm and fuzzy. In my mind and throughout my body. "It's an A. Don't give it a B."

Aven leaned back, "You love music. You play an instrument. Are your parents' music fanatics?"

"My dad played a bit of piano when he grew up, but he wasn't as invested in it as I was."

"Woah. What happened here?" Aven gently took my hand. He moved his thumb over the calluses on the inside of my palm. His touch left tingles along my skin. Although his movement was supposed to be a soothing caress, I couldn't help but suck in a deep breath at the sensation.

"Construction."

He blinked. "Excuse me?"

As I explained where I had been before his game yesterday, Aven sat on the bed. "So, you work."

Where was he getting at here? "Yes."

"You volunteer at multiple places."

"Yes."

"You're in biophysics. The physics part will never sit right with me." Aven leaned back on his hands. "Are you not tired?"

"No, not really," I lied. Weariness had taken over my entire body by this hour. I had been struggling to properly pull sentences together for my assignment. "Time management."

"Yeah, but time management always has a limit. You can cut back if anything is too much for you, you know that. I learned that the hard way but fixed things for myself last year." 

 "Don't you have a job?"

"Yeah, but it's mostly remote research with a prof who makes things lenient for me especially considering I'm playing a varsity sport so he gets it. Just," Worry overcame his expression. On him, it was accompanied with a dent between his eyebrows. "Take it easy."

"I'm good," I must have had some edge in my voice because his eyes were steady on me before sighing.

"All the volunteer stuff is 'cause of Dalhousie?"

I paused. Would I be doing half of what I was doing if I wasn't trying to go for Dalhousie research position? No. Admitting that out loud made me feel shame and shallow. My silence must have answered his question.

"What about work? Do you need to have a job?"

This time I do answer. "Not really."

"Then why do you have one?"

My feet push against the floor, turning in my chair once as he shifted on my bed once again so his head rested on my pillows. "Independence."

"Not much of it back in Port Yonge?"

Flashes of warm memories flood my mind. Loud, chaotic nearby family here in the province. Louder and more chaotic family down in the US. My intermediate family. I grew up in a safe and loving home where all my parents wanted was for me and Abisola to be happy. I was grateful for that.

"My parents coddled me a lot," I said. "My sister was always so independent from the jump even when she was living at home. She didn't need anyone to help her with anything. Me? I took every advantage I could. I needed a ride? Mom would come rushing. I was sick? Dad would take care of me the entire day. He still would."

"You're the baby of the family," Aven said.

"I've always been treated like it. Leaving Port Yonge was a chance to not be babied. To see what I was more capable of. Me having a job is part of the independence. My parents pay for what isn't covered in scholarships and part of rent once my money from the summer runs out. But I need a few things that I should control without being so dependent on them."

"You're lucky."

"I know," I admitted.

"Don't overwork yourself," He said. "It's okay to take their help. Hell, my mom's the same. She babies me when she can as if my sister isn't right there."

The smile on his face when he mentioned his mom had me asking, "You're close?"

"Yeah," The grin on his face dimmed slightly. "When my dad wasn't around, she barely left me out of her sight. She worried a lot. Still does. She bawled when I moved here," Aven rolled his eyes and I laughed. "She started talking about how she going to develop abandonment issues. My dad practically carried her out of my dorm room."

I was biting on my thumbnail when I asked him my next question, "Do you think, um, she worries a lot because she thinks what happened to him might happen to you?"

"She doesn't say it but it's obvious," Aven crossed his arms, his eyes on the ceiling. "Lawyers, friends, and my mom were going battle after battle with trying to get him out. I watched it all happen even though I was a kid. They never hid anything from me. But regarding that, she only told me once. She said that she hopes what he went through is something I never would have to experience. Sometimes my mom will look at me and I know she's thinking about it."

Aven sighed, "I think about it too sometimes. Wondering what I would've done if I was in his position." Suddenly, he shook his head. "Sorry. I didn't mean to unload this on you." 

"It's okay," I assured him, shifting in my chair and I couldn't contain the wince due to the soreness on my side.

Aven chuckled, "Yeah, you're never doing construction ever again." 

"Noted," I mumbled. 

When we headed over to the kitchen, Yasmeen was lying astride on the couch, flicking through the channels. Aven didn't follow me into the kitchen as I went to retrieve the pack of Twizzlers from where I had them high up in the cupboards. When I returned to the living room, Aven had joined Yasmeen on the couch and he was laughing. "Wait, so are you vegan?"

"No," She admitted. "But back home, my brother, he's a chef, he makes a lot of food and some of my favourites are dishes that can be classified as vegan or vegetarian. I saw the club one day in first year and was allowed to join even though I'm not. Got good recipes for him."

"That's cool," Aven said. Vegan, Arabic and African club. I didn't know how she did it all. 

I plopped down on the other side of Yasmeen as she looked at me with hopeful eyes. That only meant one thing. "How long is your break?"

"Enough for one episode." She said.

"One episode of what?" Aven asked.

Yasmeen perked up, "We're watching Days of Our Lives."

"Days of Our Lives," Aven repeated. "The soap opera?"

"It's not just a soap opera," Yasmeen assured him, no longer sitting but kneeling on the couch as she got as excited talking to someone about this as much as I liked Fridays. "It's good. You have to watch an episode with us now."

"I don't have a choice, do I?"

"No," I told him, offering him the bag of Twizzlers.

I put on the next episode we had to watch as Aven grew attentive. He was really going to stay and watch this. No resistance. No reassurance from Yasmeen that the show was good. The thought had me smiling as I chewed on a Twizzler, listening to Yasmeen explain to him everything from the first episode up until where we last left off regarding the Horton family, every secret and every dramatic plot the writers had presented.

Aven held a pillow against his chest as he adorably chewed on a Twizzler. "Aren't there thousands of episodes?"

"Over 14,000," I answered.

"Are you going to watch all of them by the end of the school year? I don't think that's possible."

"No," Yasmeen shifted. "Until we get bored then we search up every plot we can find until the most recent and move on to the next. Jaime's already getting tired of this show but I'm still in the game."

"She is very deep into the game. Completely dedicated." I said.

"So, you in?" Yasmeen asked him.

Aven reached for another Twizzler, slouching in his chair as he got comfortable. And just like that Yasmeen and Aven became friends. "I'm in."