Chasing Pavements

“Where are you going?” I asked, walking out of my room at the same time Farah walked out of hers. She compulsively checked herself in every reflective surface she passed. She looked nice—her hair had been styled and she was wearing a dress with high heeled shoes.

“Out,” she said, fluffing her hair and puckering her lips at the mirror in the hallway. “Remember Noah?”

“That douche bag from earlier?” I asked, following her as she slowly made her way out of the depths of the house.

“Nicholas,” she snapped, turning away from herself and looking at me, “He was not a ‘douche bag.’”

“Shouldn’t you be studying? Your midterms are in like three days.”

“I’ve been studying nonstop for the past month; one night of fun won’t kill me.”

“You haven’t studied enough—what’s the square root of pi?”

“If you want to learn math, MIT is just a few minutes away.” She put her hands on my shoulders, matching my height, “Look, you don’t need to worry about me, alright? I’m a big girl.”

She was right, but that didn’t stop me from feeling a little jealous—I hadn’t even seen her twelve hours and already she was blowing me off for either a guy or studying; I just couldn’t wait until final exams rolled around.

I left her in the living room, walking to the attached kitchen. I watched as she dug through her purse, muttering a checklist under her breath; the doorbell rang and she snapped her head up.

“You answer it,” she said, scurrying quickly down the hallway, “I forgot something!” she called, “Buy me like a minute of time!”

I did as she told, although I knew she would later hope I didn’t: I had just woken up and looked a mess—sort of like I’d just gotten lucky Picking up a girl and being greeted by a guy who looked as I did wasn’t my idea of a good first date.

“Hey,” I said, opening the door and letting Noah step past me, “She’ll be just a second.”

He held a bouquet of multicolored carnations in one hand and stuffed the other in his front pocket awkwardly.

We stood in silence for a few long seconds, listening to Farah’s muffled curses while she looked for whatever it was she needed. “She’s usually more punctual,” I told him idly.

He nodded briskly, “That’s quite alright.”

After a few more long seconds, Farah appeared. She accepted the flowers and ushered me to follow her to the kitchen to find a vase for them. “He didn’t have to get me flowers,” she whispered to me, as if I hadn’t heard her say that exact same thing to him just seconds earlier.

“They’re carnations,” I said skeptically, pointing out the obviously poor choice in flowers, “I told you he was a douche bag.”

“Carnations are a safe first date flower,” she told me, shoving the flowers softly against my chest. “And if you were an expert on dating like you claim you are, you’d know that.”

She returned to Noah, thanking him again for the flowers and kissing his cheek. He, in turn, turned a color similar to the one that Farah turned in Starbucks.

“Don’t wait up!” she called to me as she closed the door behind them.

I got up early the next morning, deciding to start my day off with homemade breakfast and fresh coffee, but Farah had failed to go grocery shopping and I was stuck with coffee and stale toast. I had fallen asleep before she got home, the sleepless nights from tour finally catching up to me. Turning the thermostat on high, I walked out in my tank top and boxer shorts, exposing myself to the world.

It wasn’t until I was pouring myself coffee that I realized I wasn’t alone: Noah walked down the hallway in the same clothes he had picked Farah up in and grinned at me. I raised my eyebrows, but waved silently. He closed the door quietly behind him as Farah appeared in her silk robe, looking as though she only wore lacey lingerie underneath.

“Good morning,” I said, my eyebrows still raised.

She walked over to me and wrapped her arms around me, putting her face tiredly in my chest. “Yes,” she said, “It is.”

I leaned against the counter, holding her. “You must really like him,” I muttered, “You’re not wearing makeup.”

She giggled and pushed away from me, “Oh my God, he’s just…dreamy. Don’t you think?”

“I don’t think I’m at liberty to answer that…” I said, turning back to my toast. “Hungry?”

“No thanks, I ate,” she said absentmindedly.

“That’s where all of the food went? Fuck, Farah,” I groaned, both of our faces turning red. Then I realized: “You slept with him!” I suddenly grew smug, “You didn’t even know him a day!”

“That’s not true,” she defended, “We got back around midnight.”

“Oh my God, he lives in Australia,” I told her, “You can’t have a long-term commitment with this guy because he doesn’t live here.”

She furrowed her brows at me, annoyed. “Who said anything about a commitment? I’m not looking to get married, Nick—I just want to pass law school.”

A one-night stand was very uncharacteristic for Farah, and I told her that; she was the kind of girl who wanted to be swept off her feet by Prince Charming, not romanced for a night and never thought about again.

She sighed. “You really think he was a one-night stand?” She asked, not because she was going to bitch about it, but because she really hoped he wasn’t.

I shrugged, “As dreamy as he was, I wasn’t the one who went out him; you tell me.”

She thought for a second before deciding, “I hope not. I have to go to work—hair emergency, you understand.” The funny thing about Farah was that she wasn’t actually a licensed beautician, but everyone seemed to trust her anyway. She had taken a few night classes in order to get the basics down and allowed her imagination to take her away. She stayed away from cutting hair as often as she could, mostly using her skills in styling, doing nails and makeup, and waxing. Sometimes I wondered if my girlfriends just liked me for Farah, since she could just hook them up with whatever they needed at a moment’s notice. I knew that if I were a girl I would feel the same way.