Chapter Text
Week 1
One hour, thirty-six presentation slides and twelve pages of notes later, Professor Grayson’s lecture is finally drawing to a close, leaving my brain screaming out for both silence and a coffee in equal measure.
We’re only a month into the spring semester, my sophomore year at Piltover University flying by as I desperately attempt to keep my head above water in between studying, socialising and, more generally, staying sane.
“For this assignment, I’ll be pairing you up with a classmate,” Professor Grayson announces, addressing the large lecture room with a level voice. “It’s important you work together to submit one paper, which will be jointly graded.”
A series of groans and grumbles echo around the room as the news sinks in, the prospect of forced social interaction and uncomfortable conversations equally unpleasant to all.
I join in, tossing my pen on the table in frustration.
“Can we choose who to work with?” someone calls from the other side of the room.
Grayson shakes her head, “I’ve already selected your partners. Please come and collect a slip of paper on your way out and organise an introductory meeting with your colleague.” Already anticipating the next question, she adds, “no swaps permitted.”
Further sighs and gripes ensue as everyone packs up their belongings and files one by one out of the class. I watch on as each interaction with Grayson differs, resulting either in relieved celebration or slumped disappointment when students discover their fates, low chatter filling up the vast space while newfound study-mates are introduced.
I linger back, dreading the reveal. There is simply no one in this class I have any desire to spend extra time with, particularly given the crammed nature of my study schedule.
“Great work today, Caitlyn,” Grayson greets me as I approach her desk, accepting the slip of folded paper reluctantly. Before I can even read it, she is divulges her decision. “You’ll be working with Vi for the assignment.”
“Vi?” I repeat the name hollowly, running through my mental directory.
We don’t know one another, but I’ve seen Vi before on campus, of course. Unkempt pink hair, excessive muscles, tattoos and piercings – she doesn’t exactly blend in. I’ve never allowed my eyes to linger longer for too long, knowing exactly how easily I could develop an attraction to her, and just how disastrously that would end for me.
Vi’s hot, yes. That is just a fact. I know she’s my type, physically. But from what I can gather, her persona is miles away from my ideal match. She’s loud and obnoxious, typically surrounded by large groups of friends, cracking jokes and play-fighting with classmates. Not exactly someone I would choose to mix with.
And she’s a player – that much is evident.
Most girls on campus seem to have some story to tell about her; whether they indulged in a full night of passion, a simple kiss or merely received a throwaway compliment. Each person she meets seems to end up heartbroken.
I’m not stupid enough to have ever let my brain wonder what being one of those girls feels like.
Though I suspect this senseless assignment might make that a little more difficult.
I like Professor Grayson a lot, don’t get me wrong; she regularly provides me with extra work to submit for bonus credit, commenting on my impressive level of discipline – more so than any other nineteen year old she knows, anyway. I choose to believe that she offers me preferential treatment out of genuine respect, rather than simply because she works with my mother, though it’s impossible to know for certain.
All of that aside, I’m flummoxed by her choice to pair me up with Vi – someone who hardly shows up for class and is very rarely punctual if she does grace us with her presence at all.
“Professor, are you sure this is a good fit?” I hedge, attempting to remain polite, “I need to pass this class and I suspect there are other candidates better suited to completing the assignment with me.”
“Now, now,” Grayson tuts, offering me a small smile, “what have I told you, Miss Kiramman, about being quick to judge?” she asks rhetorically in her gravelly tone. “Everyone in this class has something to offer. A change of perspective will be good for you.”
I doubt that.
The last few people from the back of the room shuffle out the doors, and, as if on cue, Vi jaunts down the steps, hands stuffed in the pockets of her red jacket, grinning with all the bravado I anticipated.
“The two of you will be working together,” Grayson informs Vi simply once she’s in earshot, pointing between us.
“Hey, princess,” Vi greets me coolly, with a look up and down, “looks like it’s your lucky day.”
With an unreadable expression, Grayson declares, “I’ll leave you to get acquainted,” before turning her attention to any remaining stragglers lingering around her desk.
Facing Vi reluctantly, I mentally shake my fist in anger, wondering why – why – of everyone here, she has to be my partner.
“My name is Caitlyn,” I tell her firmly.
Vi just smirks at my stern response, possibly taken aback but not letting it show.
“Hey, Cait,” she corrects her original greeting. Before I can correct her for shortening my name in a way that is far too familiar, she adds, “I’m Vi.”
“I know,” I reply absently, without thinking.
I didn’t mean to say that. Why did I say that?
“You do?” she probes with an arched eyebrow.
“I just meant I’ve seen you around,” I gesture vaguely, hoping that is satisfactory enough. Still feeling a bit irritated, I add, “you have a bit of a reputation.”
Vi doesn’t seem offended by that, at least not outwardly, even though I had clearly framed it as an insult.
“I know you as well,” she offers, all smiles, “just didn’t know your name.” I must have looked intrigued, so she adds, “you’re friends with Jayce, right? I’ve seen you together.”
“Yes.”
“We work out together sometimes.”
“You work out?” I feign surprise in a sarcastic drawl, agitated that she felt the need to slide that into the conversation already. “I had no idea.”
Vi just chuckles at me. “You’re funny.”
Ignoring the way she looks me up and down for a second time when she says it, I fight the natural reaction to be thrilled at capturing her interest, reminding myself that she’d likely fuck a tree if it smiled at her nicely.
Clearing my throat to redirect the conversation, I tell her, “it’s important to me not to fail this assignment, so I need you to know that I will be taking it seriously.”
She breathes out another laugh, seeming genuinely amused. “I can see that.”
“We have four weeks to get this done so I’d suggest we begin straight away and map out a study plan that fits in with our schedules – why are you looking at me like that?”
Vi’s leaning towards me, arms crossed over her chest, one hand raised to stroke her chin. Her stare is intense.
“I’m listening.”
Her face is far too close. I can smell the leather from her jacket and product in her hair.
“O – kay,” I curse myself for stuttering. “Just – just send me a copy of your calendar with classes, other commitments and so on, and I’ll draw up a plan.”
“Definitely don’t have one of those.”
“What?” I ask, incredulous. “A calendar?”
“Nah. I just remember stuff,” Vi shrugs.
“Wh – what are you talking about?” I am completely baffled, although, come to think of it, I suppose that would explain her constant absences from class.
“Look,” she proposes, “why don’t you just text me when you wanna study and I’ll tell you if I’m free?”
“Then there’s no organisation whatsoever –”
“Just text me you up and I’ll let you know,” she grins.
“I will not text you asking if you are up,” I clarify curtly and then sigh before agreeing on a compromise. “Fine, forget the calendar. I will contact you when I am available and you will let me know if you are also available.”
“Cupcake,” she grins and waggles her eyebrows around like a maniac. “I’m available.”
“To study!”
“Oh, to study,” she nods, clicking her tongue. “You shoulda been more specific.”
I’m not going to let her rile me up. I’m not, I’m not, I’m not.
“Just put your number in my phone, please.” I extend it to her impatiently.
Vi hesitates, laughing and deciding not to argue.
“Since you asked so nicely.” She punches her number in and saves it to my phone, then calls herself and saves my details. “All done for you,” she bows her head, offering the phone back to me dramatically. It could be cute if it weren’t so annoying.
I grab it back, ignoring the way our fingers brush together for a second, collect my bag and begin heading out of the room.
That’s that then.
“I’ll be in touch,” I say over my shoulder, expecting Vi to be making her own way out through one of the other doors.
Instead, I’ve only made it a few feet away before realising that she’s on my tail, lingering behind me with each step. “So…” she begins casually.
I let out a heavy breath, looking straight ahead, mentally calculating the best route to my next class. “So, what?”
“Wanna go out tonight and get a drink?” she suggests out of the blue.
“Excuse me?” I glance at her, continuing forwards out the door and down the corridor.
“It might help us get to know each other,” she continues. Catching my sceptical look, she quickly clarifies, “for the project, I mean. We can talk about the assignment and the study schedule and –”
“I don’t think we need to go out drinking to do any of those things,” I counter, looking directly forwards, not convinced she has any interest in studying, but is merely repeating all the terms I have just mentioned.
“Okay, fine,” she allows. “We don’t. But it could be good. Break the tension. Have some fun!”
Only God knows what have some fun means to someone like Vi, and I am not willing to risk finding out only to regret it tomorrow. Forcefully, I shove down the image of Vi out at a bar buying me a drink, her eyes boring into mine under strobe lights, the smell of smoke and tequila.
Absolutely not. That only ends one way.
“I’m flattered, but no thanks.”
“Hey!” she nudges me to a stop for a moment. I turn to face her, unnerved by the fire behind her eyes. “You think I haven’t turned a straight girl before?” she asks seductively.
I can’t help the genuine laugh that explodes out of my mouth at that – both the unexpected content and delivery – which she blinks at in surprise.
“That’s not the issue,” I advise.
“What?” her brow furrows in genuine confusion. “Wait, you’re not –”
“I’m not interested,” I finish firmly.
I continue walking at a brisk pace while she’s glued in place, momentarily speechless, disappearing over my shoulder.
“But this just got so much more exciting!” she calls after me, her words laced with genuine delight.
It’s nine pm when I finish for the day; classes, shower and even a brief pit stop to visit my mother’s office ticked off and finally I am able to wind down, writing out my to-do list for tomorrow.
The amount of work I have to catch up on is bleak, with extra credit assignments and reading coming out of my ears.
My student life hasn’t always been this full-on. I had been a little wilder at the very beginning, but now, as I enter the tail end of my second year, I feel as though fun has certainly taken a bit of a backseat. Now I think about it, I can’t remember the last time I went out and really let loose (not counting Friday night drinks at The Last Drop with Jayce), or organised a date of any kind, let alone experienced romance or even plain old attraction.
Speaking of...
The reference conjures up a mental image that makes my stomach twist uncomfortably; one of boasting brawn and pink hair.
Deciding to rip the Band-Aid off, so to speak, I pull out my phone and type out a quick message to Vi, keen to secure our week one study appointment if we are to stay on track for the assignment deadline.
I am available to study between classes at 10am tomorrow morning until 1pm.
She replies within a minute.
who is this?
I know she saved my number, dammit. It was right in front of me.
Hilarious.
lest?
Who on earth –?
Now I actually don’t know if she’s joking or not. Maybe she does, in fact, save so many new numbers per day that she has completely forgotten the interaction we had this morning. After all, it was at least ten hours ago.
The thought is a tad disappointing but extremely grounding. Exactly as predicted, she is already onto the next. And to think she asked me out just today!
I type out my reply with irritation.
It’s Caitlyn.
not ringing any bells
Scowling, I respond immediately.
From this morning.
The assignment?
ohhh
cupcake!
Breathing through my nose, I choose to ignore the irritating nickname.
Tomorrow?
yeah 10 is good
come to my place
wear something nice
An address follows shortly. Ironically, it’s only a few houses over from my accommodation, near where Jayce lives, which could explain why she’s seen us together before.
I decide not to bother answering the message, offering a simple thumbs up to confirm receipt of the information.
I can already tell this is going to be hard work.
The walk over to Vi’s the next morning is brisk; my pace sharp and my brain busy. A weathered bag hits my side with each recurring step, wind pushes my hair backwards. Choosing to ignore Vi’s last text to me, I had thrown on a polo neck and jeans, all black as to indicate that this is a professional appointment with absolutely no funny business.
My sleep was shorter than I would have liked, after I spent many of the late hours catching up on classwork, followed by a bout of insomnia where I found myself staring at the ceiling in the dark, my head spinning and brain unable to switch off.
So much to think about. The book I have to finish, the half-written paper on my laptop, what to wear to Vi’s tomorrow, whether I put that water back in the fridge, what Vi’s place will be like, how long I have until my alarm will go off. That kind of thing.
The only saving grace is that my eye bags might be so bad that Vi feels no attraction to me whatsoever, removing the entire threat of sexual tension.
I breathe rhythmically as I walk, going over my three mental notes for today.
This is not a date. Vi might want it to be (although, hook-up is probably more accurate) and there may be a teeny, tiny, supressed part of me that wishes it was as well – but it isn’t. It’s a study meeting. We are here to complete our work, brainstorm ideas, and talk about topics strictly on the curriculum.
Vi’s flirting is a trap. She flirts with everyone. I’m not special. She keeps things generic and suggestive as part of her act, but none of it is genuine. It’s important not to fall for the sweet gestures, pet names and compliments. She’ll forget she’s said it all by tomorrow.
And finally – you are too intelligent to be seduced. I must remain vigilant, watch out for the signs and not let my mind wander.
Perhaps this seems a little overkill but I can’t pretend that there isn’t a part of me desperately intrigued by Vi and undeniably attracted to her, so I must acknowledge it and choose to rise above.
Four weeks, that’s all. Then this stupid assignment will be done, we will no longer be forced into close proximity and I can go back to pretending like she doesn’t exist in my world. The way it should be.
Approaching Vi’s place, I check my watch. Nine-fifty am. Ever so slightly early, but I’m sure she won’t mind.
As I turn the corner, scanning the door numbers to locate the right place, jovial laugher and chatter from behind me catches my attention.
“I know, did you see her face at the end?” The joyful sound of Vi’s unmissable tone. “She was looking at me like – hey, cupcake!”
Her head lifts up when our eyes meet, grinning from ear to ear. She’s walking towards me down the footway beside another person – slightly older-looking with an equally as impressive physique, if not more so, tan skin and dark hair, cut bluntly. My heart sinks upon our eyes meeting.
Oh, shit.
“How long have you been waiting here for?” Vi chirps away, obliviously. “We agreed ten, right?”
“No, I –” I clear my throat, “I just got here.”
“Oh, hey, by the way this is Sevika, we train together. Sev this is…” Vi trails off, thinking hard.
“Caitlyn,” I finish for her with a pointed sigh.
“Right, Cait,” Vi repeats, snapping her fingers. “I knew it really.”
Sevika meets my eye again, offering a small, crooked smile which I return awkwardly. Neither one of us says anything for a moment, unsure how to naturally move the conversation along.
“Good to see you,” Sevika finally says lowly, immediately wincing as if she regrets her word choice.
“Wait – do you guys know each other?” Vi asks incredulously, finally picking up on the slight tension.
Do we know each other?
Barely. Intimately.
Yes and no.
I’m not sure how to answer.
Early into my college career, Sevika and I had… well, let’s just say we became acquainted at one of the local drinking joints, back when sex with strangers was a more regular occurrence in my life. We barely spoke, it only happened once and we’ve hardly interacted since, other than the very occasional drunk text and passing ‘hello’ when we see each other in town. It was a one time thing, and neither of us are interested in dating one another.
People hook-up all the time, don’t they? It’s not a big deal. It isn’t.
Except, and I apologise for the vulgarity, but she did give me one of the best orgasms of my life in the toilet cubicle, holding me up against the door and lifting me clean off the ground at one stage.
It was exhilarating.
“We…” I start and trail off, unsure how to finish.
“We know each other,” Sevika sighs, shooting Vi a knowing look which is met with instant comprehension.
“Oh my God, that’s her?” Vi asks in complete disbelief before bursting into laughter, clearly highly amused at how uncomfortable I am. “I mean you said it was great but you never said she was so…”
“So what?” I demand in outrage, anticipating something derogatory to follow.
Stuck-up? Boring? Frigid?
“Fuckin’ hot,” Vi finishes simply. My skin burns red in mortification, wondering how on earth we have ended up having this absurd conversation. Vi pats me on the arm sympathetically upon seeing my blush. “Hey, listen, I get it. I’d be embarrassed if slept with Sevika as well.”
“Fuck you, Vi,” Sevika laughs, punching her in the shoulder. “You’re a piece of shit, y’know that?”
“I have been told,” she allows, wincing.
“I’m outta here,” Sevika shakes her head, mumbling as she walks away. “Good to see you, Caitlyn. Watch out for that one,” she turns back, pointing a thumb towards Vi. “She’s handsy.”
Sevika mutters something else before she disappears, possibly along the lines of but I think you like that. I choose not to hear.
Turning back to Vi, I scowl to see she is still laughing, clearly having found the entire interaction highly entertaining.
“This isn’t funny,” I insist as we begin walking towards her door.
“Oh c’mon,” she chortles, “you have to admit it’s a little funny.”
Fishing around in her gym bag, she produces a set of keys and ushers me inside, turning sharply down the hall and in through another door.
“My sex life is none of your business,” I tell her firmly.
Great, we are literally seconds over the threshold and already talking about sex. I try to remember my three mantras one by one.
“I know but… Sevika?” Vi says her name with utter amusement combined with confusion. “I just didn’t see that coming.” She dumps her bag on the floor. “Bet she didn’t either,” she laughs to herself. “Best day of her damn life.”
I ignore her as I assess the room. Messy, but relatively clean. Stacks of books, papers, clothes, nothing seeming quite finished or done with. It’s a classic student room, bed on one side, desk on the other, small bathroom off to the side.
“She just doesn’t seem like your type,” Vi presses on.
“You don’t know anything about my type,” I reply curtly.
“True. Pretty girl like you, just assumed you’d go for someone more… similar.”
I scowl, irritated that she’s passed judgement on me so quickly. First as seemingly straight and now as, what?
“That’s very reductive.” I meet her eye. “I’m sure you like all types of girls.”
“That I do,” she beams over at me. “I just think most people have… preferences.”
“Preferences,” I repeat dumbly.
“Yeah. Like, good tits, nice ass.” Her examples aren’t particularly reassuring. “Those are mine, by the way.”
“Purely physical,” I note, unimpressed.
“It’s okay to have physical preferences,” Vi defends. “What’s on your list?”
She wanders across the room, leaning against the bathroom doorframe with crossed arms and looking at me from where I’m lingering near the desk.
“What?”
God, she looks good. I’m suddenly all too aware of how alone we are, face to face in Vi’s bedroom with no buffers, no background noise, nowhere else to look than at her extremely kissable face.
Wait – scratch that from the record. I didn’t mean kissable, so much as –
“Y’know,” she rephrases the question, interrupting my spiralling train of thought with a sultry grin, “what turns you on?”
I consider, really not wishing to delve any deeper into the topic.
“I’m attracted to intellect,” I reply, knowing it’s not what she wants to hear. And probably not even true. I’ve always been taught to value intellect, my mother made sure of that, but it’s not particularly sexy to me. Thoughtfulness, humour, confidence are all probably more attractive qualities.
“Bo-o-oring,” Vi complains, prolonging the vowel for emphasis.
“It’s a ridiculous question,” I maintain.
“C’mon, you can tell me,” she insists. “We’ll work better if we get to know each other.”
“I hardly think it’s appropriate.”
She will not let it go. “When you fantasise at night, who you picturing?”
“I am not having this conversation with you.”
“Just give me a crumb,” she begs, pleadingly.
Growing flustered, I huff, “my preferences, as you put it, aren’t exactly relevant to the –”
Vi speaks over me, speculating, “you got down and dirty with Sev, so you must –”
“Yes, fine, I enjoy muscular women.” The words tumble out of my mouth before thinking, so caught up in the frustrating nature of the conversation.
I shouldn’t have said that.
“Oh, you do?” Vi arches an eyebrow in glee. “Good to know.”
“I didn’t mean – not exclusively –”
“’Cause I got muscles,” she continues as if I haven’t spoken, pointing one hand to her chest. “You know that, right?”
I roll my eyes with a bitter exhale, but allow myself to assess Vi properly for the first time since meeting. I’d been so wrapped up in the reunion with Sevika, I’d hardly even registered the fact that she’s just finished a session at the gym – and it shows. Her shoulder muscles – clearly visible under a baggy vest – are glowing with a thin layer of sweat and her hair is more tousled than usual as if she’s been running a hand through it, wiping sweat beads back from her brow.
I’d made the decision to assess her physique in order to come up with a snappy retort, but I really should have known better. My jaw is all but hanging open by the end of the brief evaluation, my attraction to Vi impossible to deny (at least internally).
Vi notices it all. Of course.
“Come watch me workout sometime,” she throws in as she kicks her shoes off. “I think you’d like it.”
I scoff, annoyed at myself for not thinking of anything witty to say, and enraged at how shameless she is.
“That’s completely –”
“Sevika will be there,” she teases in a sing-song tone.
“I am not –” I catch myself raising my voice in anger and stop abruptly, taking a long breath. Do not rise to it.
“Look, I’m gonna jump in the shower. Why don’t you try and calm yourself down and then we can study in ten minutes.”
“Calm myself –?” the gall of her. “Wait – shower? Now?” my brain finally catches up.
“Yes,” she looks at me like I am being stupid and says simply, “I’m sweaty.”
“If you’re not ready, why didn’t you just tell me to arrive later?” I demand in frustration.
“You’re the eager beaver who showed up early to see me,” Vi deflects with another grin. Disappearing into the bathroom she calls behind her, “make yourself comfortable!” Then the water starts running.
She doesn’t even close the door properly, leaving it slightly ajar. Within moments, the steam from the hot water begins to form around the doorframe and diffuse towards me.
Great.
That’s just great.
I had prepared for flirting, but this is another level.
Grunting in annoyance, I set my things down on the desk, pushing papers and knick-knacks aside to clear a space, pulling out my laptop, charger and textbook.
The loud spray of the shower from the other room is distracting. Knowing that Vi is literally just behind the door, nude, is verging on insanity. This is not what I signed up for when I agreed to study here.
Tapping my fingers against the desk, I desperately attempt to stop my mind from wandering, but fail miserably within a few seconds. How does her skin look under the warm water droplets, her back, her shoulders, her chest?
My breaths quicken with each new body part.
It sparks the query – what is more erotic: Vi covered in sweat from the gym, or Vi dripping wet from the shower?
Sadly, both of those images make me feel weak at the knees; a sensation I curse myself for experiencing when I know, I know, she is not interested in me. Not any more than she is interested in every other girl on campus.
I switch my laptop on, pulsating with nervous energy as the loading wheel spins slowly, painful minutes passing by. Unfortunately, my body is not as rational as my brain and does not seem to understand that feelings of horniness for Vi are strictly forbidden. We are here to study. Remember?
The faucet abruptly switches off, and there is some thudding around as I assume Vi gets out the shower.
I quickly pull up one of the research sites we have been encouraged to use for the class and scroll down to a semi-related article, reading a few lines in attempt to yank my heinous brain into study mode.
Vi’s footsteps are audible behind me mere moments later.
I risk glancing up from the desk chair to see that she’s casually padding across the room in nothing but underwear, skin and hair still dripping wet down her back and arms. It’s only then that I notice her entire back is tattooed, an extension of the ink on her arms, meandering down the sculpted skin beneath.
A tiny gasp escapes my lips, a squeak.
In response, Vi looks at me questioningly, reaching up to push wet pink hair out of her eyes, and flexing while she does so.
“Problem?” she asks mockingly.
I turn back to the computer screen, suddenly very, very warm.
“For God’s – will you please put some clothes on?”
“Man, I haven’t heard that in a while,” she muses with a low chuckle.
“I’m being serious.” I risk looking up again, against my better judgement. The black boxer briefs cling to her muscular frame, low enough to show visible V-cut abs, and the tight sports bra hints at a nipple piercing which is so disrespectfully, ludicrously and offensively hot. I swallow hard, probably audibly.
“Since you’re an enthusiast,” she explains virtuously, glancing at me out the corner of her eye, “I thought you might like to see some muscles.”
“That is not…” I stop myself when I catch her smirking. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“It’s kind of fun for me, yeah.”
My chest heaves as I try desperately to remember how to breathe normally, unaware in the moment of how tightly I am grabbing onto the desk until Vi looks over at my hand triumphantly. I release my grip instantly, chastising myself for showing weakness.
I remind myself mantra three. You are too intelligent to be seduced.
I may have given myself a little too much credit on that one.
“Could you just put something on?” I ask quietly, genuinely concerned about what might happen if she doesn’t.
“But I’m comfortable,” Vi whines.
“We need to study,” I insist. “And you…” I trail off, unsure whether to finish the sentence.
“And I… what?” Vi prompts. I can feel her staring at the back of my neck from across the room.
I clear my throat, avoiding her gaze.
“You’re distracting,” I say, eyes locked onto my computer screen.
A few seconds of silence follow.
I know I shouldn’t have said it, but it’s hardly a shocking revelation. I’m quite certain that Vi is used to receiving compliments from women.
I don’t see how she reacts, but in the next minute, Vi throws on a baggy T-shirt and shorts, pulling up a chair beside me at the desk. She seems pleased to have elicited the confession out of me, much to my exasperation, and it would appear as though studying for our assignment (as was always the plan) is my reward.
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
“You’re welcome, cupcake,” she replies in a satisfied tone. “Can’t have you being distracted, can we?”
For probably the first time since meeting Vi this morning, I allow a small smile to creep over my lips at her.
Wordlessly, she picks up the book I have flopped down on the desk and opens it to a chapter.
And, with that, the work begins.
After the first thirty minutes, the awkwardness from Vi’s shower performance seems to have dissipated and, much to my surprise, we fall into relaxed conversation far more easily than I had expected.
When she’s not doing her tough guy shtick, Vi’s actually kind of… nice. Normal even.
Time ticks by easily, and we manage to get a fair amount finished. Looking at the four week study plan I have drawn up, we are on track for success.
Vi’s more focused than I thought she would be, offering thoughtful suggestions and contributions to the project.
“You don’t have to look so shocked every time I have an idea,” she informs me with a teasing smile.
“Sorry.”
In between study, we take short breaks where Vi dips out the room to make us hot coffees, which we sit and sip; her sitting cross legged on the bed while I tuck my knees up on her desk chair opposite.
When we’re not discussing the assignment, Vi tells me about her dorm-mates – Mylo’s always finishing the milk she buys, so now she’s started taking her coffee black to spite him; Claggor’s a much more considerate person to live with, so Vi’s offered to give him boxing lessons since she knows he’s desperate to learn but too nervous to sign up to a class. Then there’s Powder, Vi’s sister, who’s studying at Zaun College nearby but comes around at least once a week with her boyfriend Ekko, raiding Vi’s snack stash and racking up her bar tabs.
Vi talks about them fondly, telling me stories about growing up with Powder, who can be a bit of a loose cannon, and how she worries about her being alone now Vi’s away, unable to clean up her messes.
“One day she’s gonna piss off the wrong person, y’know?” she chuckles lowly.
I smile at her.
“It sounds like she’s surrounded by good people,” I reply.
“Yeah,” she sighs, finishing her drink.
Another hour of work passes, I jot down notes and quotes that Vi has sourced and finalise the first half of the paper, pleased with our progress.
Dropping my pen with a sigh and a stretch, I ask Vi if it’s time for another coffee.
“You’re gonna be buzzing if you have another one.”
“Never too much caffeine,” I argue.
Vi laughs but obliges my request gladly, disappearing out to the kitchen and returning within minutes. She’s unexpectedly attentive, and I can’t help wonder if it’s out of genuine desire to keep me happy, or part of an elaborate plan to seduce me.
“Anyway, tell me about you,” she says casually upon re-entering the room, placing the mug down on the dresser and returning to sit on the bed, leaning back against the wall.
“Me?”
I don’t know why, but it surprises me that Vi could possibly be interested in me. Not sexually, but I mean in me, in my life. What could she have to gain by learning my dull little backstory?
“Yeah, what’s your dorm like?” She starts simple.
“Uh…” I don’t know why the question throws me so much. “It’s normal. Boring.”
Compared to the colourful characters she has described to me, it really is. Jayce and Mel are my only two real friends at college, other than cordial acquaintances and classmates. Something about being daughter of the school Dean isn’t always appealing to students who want to talk smack about their teachers and flaunt the rules.
I definitely shouldn’t admit that to Vi. She’ll think me even more of a loser than she already does.
“I saw that,” Vi comments from across the room, looking right at me. “Tell me.”
“What?”
“You’re thinking too hard,” she clears up. “Just tell me what it is.”
I laugh in surprise. How could she possibly know that? “What are you talking about?”
“Yeah, you get this look on your face,” she informs me, doing an impression of my pursed lips and furrowed brow.
“You look like you’re attempting to pass wind,” I retort, mildly insulted, mostly surprised at how much she is paying attention to my reactions.
“Your words not mine,” she contends, holding her hands up.
We laugh in synchronisation.
Sighing, I suppose I really ought to share.
“The Dean is my mother,” I admit flatly, hoping it doesn’t sound as pretentious as it feels.
Vi digests my words, shock clouding her face.
“Dean Cassandra Kiramman?” she questions.
“Yep.”
“That’s your mom?”
“Yes.”
I knew I shouldn’t have said anything.
Vi laughs softly, “shit, she’s hot.”
“Oh,” I gasp in horror, “disgusting!”
She laughs again, harder this time, and I fight not to join in.
“What is wrong with you?” I exclaim in outrage.
“I’m not sorry,” Vi chortles, “but I dunno how I didn’t figure that one out sooner.” She glances over at me mischievously. “You’ve got that same kinda-terrifying look.”
“What –”
“I mean it in a good way,” she carries on, “it’s sexy. I’m a sucker for the scary ones.”
“Ugh,” I groan, horrified to hear Vi’s word choices in a conversation about my mother. “Can we please change the subject?”
Vi runs a hand through her hair, thankfully obliging me.
“Okay, tell me something else.”
“Like what?”
“Anything else about you,” she shrugs.
I desperately rack my brains to come up with something vaguely interesting to counteract my previous confession.
“I, um,” I hesitate, not wanting to seem like I’m bragging. “I have a blue belt in judo.”
“You – what?” Vi does a double take. “Judo?”
“Yes.”
“That’s like… with the flips and kicks and shit?”
I laugh once while she silently stares at me.
“Martial arts,” I explain, “all about physically mastering your opponent.” She’s still gawking at me. “My mother insisted I learn some form of self-defence from a young age,” I roll my eyes. “I’m working towards my black belt, but it’s harder to fit classes in now I’ve enrolled on some additional electives and studying is considerably more time consuming than last year.” I’m rambling. Am I rambling?
Vi finally offers me an impressed whistle.
“Well shit, cupcake.”
“Does that suffice as far as a fun fact?”
Vi ignores my question, continuing, “I shoulda guessed that from your arms.” She shakes her head in amazement, simpering at me. “And, I mean, gotta put those long legs to use somehow, right?” She laughs. “Now I think on it, you’re kinda muscular yourself.”
She repeats my word choice from earlier whilst dragging her eyes down my body, across my shoulders, down my waist to my thighs. I’m unexpectedly glad to be so covered up in long sleeves and a high neck, unsure that Vi ogling my breasts or legs would be particularly helpful for my dwindling self-control.
Panicking, I say matter-of-factly, “I could easily choke you,” leaning into her fascination.
It’s one of the key ways I have learnt to immobilize my opponents in class, using it as a gateway to floor someone, and I am good at it. Immobilizing Vi, though? I’m a little less confident than my tone suggests.
Vi rises to my jibe eagerly, flashing a toothy grin and sitting up straighter.
“Is that a promise?”
“It’s a threat,” I correct her firmly.
“You know I box, right?”
“You throw your weight around,” I shrug. “It’s hardly a concern.”
It is a concern, a huge one, not to mention Vi’s powerhouse strength, but I don’t let that show.
Smirking, Vi gets to her feet and adjusts her stance, placing one leg slightly behind the other, lowering her shoulders and gesturing with both hands for me to come forwards.
“Give me your worst, cupcake.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I goad, fighting back a laugh, but getting to my feet despite myself.
“I can take it.”
“Fine,” I shrug once again. “But it’s your funeral.”
In the next breath, I adapt my own pose, launching forward with outstretched arms, grabbing Vi by the collar and using the momentum to pull her entire frame down, a foot on her thigh so that my leg can aid the motion – a move I’ve practiced repeatedly. By some miracle, Vi seems so caught off guard that I wasn’t bluffing, she tumbles to the ground with me, flipping onto her back.
We both lie on the ground for a second, wondering if that really happened.
Yes, it did. I just floored Vi in one simple move. Vi.
“Ha!”
Unfortunately, my utter elation only acts as a distraction on which Vi does not hesitate to capitalise.
Before I’ve had a chance to roll back up off the ground, or even stop to check her (presumably) stunned expression, Vi jumps onto her feet and grabs my ankles to drag me closer to her while I try to hold onto something. She doesn’t stop there, reaching down to seize me by the waist, hiking me off the floor and into the air.
“Try to judo me now,” she taunts between exerted breaths.
I shriek as she dangles me upside down by the hips, kicking my legs in attempt to wriggle free from her grasp. I can feel her warm hands re-adjust on my sides, trying to get a better grip while I jostle around, the hem of my top beginning to slide down my body with gravity, revealing more skin than I’d originally set out to.
“Put me down!” I squeal, face bright red from effort.
Vi is cackling laughing at this turn of events, but does as I ask, swinging me around and guiding my head down on her bed instead, dropping my hips so that I lie flat. She doesn’t let it go that easily though, of course.
Panting, Vi looms over me, resting one hand on the bed beside my head, her other arm gently pressing down across my shoulders.
“Surrender,” she demands, a little winded but bursting with delight. “There’s no escape.”
Vi’s face is suddenly inches from mine as she does her best to be intimidating without laughing, my eyes meeting the silvery glimmer of hers. Her warm breaths cover my face, freshly dried pink hair brushing my forehead.
I’m too mesmerised by Vi, this close in proximity, to even really care about losing the spar (a realisation so uncharacteristic, it must be an indicator of something terrible).
“I surrender,” I mumble softly.
I can’t be sure Vi is thinking all the same things as me, but she certainly doesn’t hide her captivation as we both fight to catch our breath, inspecting every inch of my eyes, my mouth, my throat.
Seconds must tick by as Vi silently appraises me, seeming both impressed and aroused, swallowing hard.
I have no idea if this is her usual level of thirst for women – any woman – or if there’s something about me she is particularly interested in. I suspect the former, as from what I have heard, she’s not overly picky.
Eventually, I clear my throat, regaining her attention.
“What?” Vi’s head snaps up, releasing the light pressure on my shoulder.
“Should we…?” I gesture back to the laptop, the assignment, the original motivation for this entire arrangement.
“Oh, right. Yeah. Right.”
She steps back, allowing me to stand back up, both of us slightly dazed and red, as I move back over to the desk, creating some space between us. Blood rushes down my neck and then further south, painfully turned on by Vi’s childish roughhousing.
Glancing down at my laptop screen, I close the textbook on the desk.
“We have plenty of content for the assignment,” I observe, hitting save on our progress. “And it has been –” I glance at the clock display, having completely lost track of time, “– gosh, hours. I think we can call it a day and pick up again next week.”
“Oh,” Vi sounds surprised, possibly a hint of disappointment. “Great.”
“I’ll, um – I’ll get out of your hair.” I offer her my mug. “Thanks for the coffee.”
As much as I’m enjoying Vi’s company, it’s important to maintain boundaries and stick to the principle, and only, objective – to complete our joint paper. That’s it.
Vi hesitates, seeming as if she’s debating something.
“Quickly, just checking, you’re sure you don’t wanna have a quick –” she gestures with her hands, two fingers between a looped thumb and index, “y’know, just to break the tension.”
Jesus Christ.
A huff out a long breath, refusing to let her bait me.
“What tension?” I ask innocently, pretending everything about this study session has been above board.
“C’mon, Cait,” she taunts. “You know you wanna see what all the fuss is about.” She grins ear to ear, gesturing down at her general presence in the room with braggadocio.
A breathy laugh leaves my lips. “Why do I get the impression you’re not used to being told no?”
Vi apprehends me with amusement on her face as I pack up my belongings gradually, a seductive glint in her eye.
“Why do I get the exact same feeling about you?”
Her ability to read me would be quite impressive, if it weren’t so inconvenient.
Sexy, funny and she pays attention?
I really am fucked.
“Just text me when you wanna study again,” she remarks as I get to my feet, tossing the bag over my shoulder with a huff.
“Uh, yes,” I reply. “Next week sometime.”
A few days of separation seems sensible.
Vi just stands still with hands in her pockets, watching me as I muddle towards the door, the aforementioned tension suddenly ever-present as I attempt to wrap up the session.
“I’m just going to…” Why am I being so awkward? “I’m going now.”
“Thanks for stopping by,” Vi offers, smiling widely.
She makes it sound far more scandalous than it has been.
“Goodbye.”
Vi watches from the doorway as I leave, resting one elbow on the frame and leaning against her arm. I bite my lip.
“See you next week, cupcake,” she calls after me in a playful tone.
I sway my hips and flick my ponytail as I slowly retreat, a little more than strictly necessary, secretly hoping Vi is checking me out as I go.
Three more weeks to survive Vi’s wiles and then I will be free to live out the rest of my life, confident in the knowledge that did not succumb, I am not just another notch on her bedpost.
Twenty-one more days.
Five hundred and four hours.
Like I said.
I really am quite fucked.