Work Text:
It was too early for Lucy to be awake. She stood in line at the Campus Grounds in the library, waiting for her turn to order an obscenely caffeinated beverage, she looked over the to-do list on her phone.
To Do
- Art History Paper (Analysis of Luncheon of the Boating Party – Pierre-Auguste Renoir)
- Drawing Assignment
- Freshman Seminar
o Read A Scandal in Belgravia
o Work on Sherlock Holmes pastiche
- Freshman Writing
o Read Through the Looking Glass
o Pick paper topic
- History
o Read chapters 12-13
o Paper on dark ages (topic on blackboard)
“Morning, what can I get started for you?” the barista asked, not looking up from their POS system.
“Peppermint cappuccino with whole milk and three shots of espresso,” Lucy said, reaching for her student ID card. “Oh, and a piece of the marble pound cake.”
“That’ll be $12.74,” the barista said.
Lucy swiped her card and moved along to the pickup area. Why had she decided to take five classes this semester? She shook her head. She needed to max out her credits every semester to graduate as quickly as possible. All Lucy had to do right now was make it through midterms, the next two weeks, everything would be peachy.
Once she had her food, Lucy made her way into the cavernous central atrium of the university library. The tables were already packed with other students bent over textbooks, laptops, and notes. She bypassed the atrium in favor of her nook. She’d found it during the library’s Capture the Flag event the first week of school. Hidden away in a side hallway was a pair of comfortable armchairs, a low table, a reading light, and best of all, an electrical outlet. When she returned to it the next day to work on her initial schoolwork, Lucy was surprised to find the area deserted. She’d sat there for nearly four hours, occasionally breaking for the restroom and coffee, but no one had walked by or seemed to realize the nook was there.
Today, however, her little bit of serenity was disturbed. Sitting in one of the chairs was a boy. He was tall and gangly, in a soft-looking pair of gray sweats, a white T-shirt, and a grey sweatshirt. There was a large travel mug sitting on the table, next to a small stack of books. He seemed enamored with whatever was on his computer screen, illuminating his face with a sickly aura.
“Excuse me,” Lucy asked. The boy didn’t look up. She waved a hand in front of his face.
“Hello,” she said louder. The boy looked up at that, pulling an air pod from his ear.
“What do you want?” he asked. He sounded exhausted, and now that she could see his face better, he looked exhausted too.
“You’re in my spot,” Lucy said, gesticulating.
“As I was here first, I think you’ll find that this is in fact my spot,” he said. Moving his computer to the side, the boy reached down for his travel mug and took a long sip.
“You’re British?” she asked, recognizing the posh London accent.
“Well-spotted. So are you, by the sounds of it,” he said, sounding mildly annoyed.
“I don’t remember seeing you at the international student's party,” Lucy said, thinking back to the required get-together at the beginning of the semester. The boy rolled his eyes, returning his attention to the laptop screen.
Lucy huffed, settling into the other chair. The boy looked over at her. “My mate George is actually sitting there.”
Lucy looked around for this George person. “I don’t see him, so I guess this seat is mine,” she said. Lucy sat and pulled out her wireless over-ear headphones and her reading. Setting her music to play, she started with Through the Looking Glass.
The pair sat in silence, absorbed in their work for what seemed like hours. Lucy’s concentration was broken when she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. The boy was setting his computer down and stretching. He looked at his phone and frowned.
“Everything alright?” she asked, pulling her headphones back from one ear. The boy looked over at her.
“Yeah, just an ex being stupid,” he said, scrolling through the notifications. “And it looks like you can keep the seat. George isn’t coming.”
Lucy rolled her eyes and returned to her book.
“My name's Lockwood, by the way,” the boy added, “and I’m sorry for being a right tosser this morning. Just didn’t sleep particularly well.” He chuckled a bit, as if finding something funny in his own words. Lucy wondered if it was some personal joke about his sleep schedule. The dark circles under his eyes were alarming, even for a college student.
“Lucy Carlyle.” She nodded in his direction. “You’re not a freshman, or I’d have seen you at that required party.” Lockwood shook his head and pulled his laptop back into his lap.
“I’m a Junior actually. Business major, anthro minor,” he said. His gaze focused on the screen.
“Cool, I’m looking at majoring in art,” Lucy said, putting down her book and switching to her sketch pad. Maybe she could use this Lockwood character as her reference. Her drawing assignment was just a 2-hour sketch of anything.
“Lockwood,” she asked. He glanced at her from behind his glowing screen.
“Would it be alright if I drew you? I have an assignment and can’t think of what to draw,” she continued.
“Think you can capture my boyish charm?” Lockwood asked, a faint glimmer in his eye.
“Sure you don’t mean exhausted exasperation?” Lucy snickered. The look of mock horror on his face made it worth her while.
“My apologies, I didn’t realize Northerners were so feisty,” Lockwood retorted.
“Come over here, and I’ll show you how feisty I am, you posh twat,” Lucy said in mock seriousness. She reached into the small pastry bag on her book pile to break off a portion of marble cake. She popped it in her mouth as Lockwood watched her with rapt attention.
Lockwood’s phone began to ring. What sounded to Lucy like an artificial voice began to speak over the ringing. This is your Ex calling, Crisis Ringtone! Please take a moment to remember why you do not want to talk to this person. They are your ex for a reason. X does not mark the spot and is in fact the sign of poison.
Lockwood scrambled for his phone, trying to position his laptop in such a way that it wouldn’t hit the floor. He declined the call, releasing a deep breath.
After a beat, the ringtone began again. This is your ex calling . He declined the call again.
Lucy tried to focus on roughing out the shapes for her sketch, but Lockwood’s face was a short film happening in real-time. She caught flashes of exasperation, anger, stoniness, and vulnerability as she watched.
When the ringtone began a fourth time, Lockwood took a steadying breath and answered.
“What do you want, Lauren?” he asked, standing from his chair to pace the small hallway. Lucy worked on sketching the chair and tried her best not to listen to the conversation. She found she couldn’t stop herself from trying to discern what this Lauren character had done to rile Lockwood up in such short a time.
“No. I told you why last night, Lauren. I’m not having this conversation again. I don’t care that your mother is coming for homecoming next week,” Lockwood said, running a hand through his wild locks.
He was exasperated. Lucy felt for him at the moment. She’d watched Norrie deal with a similar breakup before leaving for uni. Paul hadn’t taken well to the change in status.
“You should have thought about that before telling me to drop classes I need to graduate because they take up too much of my time,” Lockwood said with an edge to his voice.
Lucy was starting to think that maybe now was a good time for a bathroom break.
“I don’t bloody give a shit what you think. I am in school to get a degree, not find an MRS,” Lockwood all but growled through gritted teeth.
“I am going to say this one last time. Slowly and in small words. We. Are. Over. I. Do. Not. Want. To. See. Your. Fucking. Face. Again,” he bit out. He ended the call after that but remained pacing back and forth, limbs shaking with barely concealed rage.
“She sounds like a nutter,” Lucy offered. Lockwood slowed, seeming to realize that she was still there.
“Lauren is something all right,” he said.
“Would you like a hug or something?” Lucy asked, looking around to see if there was anything else she could offer.
“A hug would be great, actually,” Lockwood said. Lucy got up, placing her sketch pad and charcoal pencil down carefully on the table. She stepped around and wrapped her arms around Lockwood’s middle. He stiffened initially before slowly relaxing. Lucy barely reached his shoulder, her head resting lightly on his sternum.
Sliding his phone into the pocket of his sweats, Lockwood returned the hug wrapping his arms around her. Lucy hummed quietly at the feeling. It was a perfect hug. If Lucy hadn’t known better, she’d have thought he was made just for her. It was a strange thought, one she hadn’t really considered since leaving Norrie behind in England.
As she pulled away, Lucy glanced up at Lockwood. He already seemed more relaxed than he’d been just a few minutes earlier. They both had work to do. They couldn’t stand there all day. A small frown crossed Lockwood’s face as Lucy picked up her sketchbook again.
He slowly returned to his seat. The pair fell into companionable silence as they began to work again. Lucy focused on trying to get the sharp angles of his face just so. His eyes would be the hardest to capture in such a quick sketch. Pools of brown blackness that seemed to sparkle when the light hit them.
A quiet gurgling pulled Lucy from her work. She glanced around, but she couldn’t find the source of the noise. She returned to her sketch. A few minutes later, a louder rumble broke her concentration. Lucy glanced up at Lockwood.
“Everything alright over there?” she asked. Lockwood’s eyes flicked to her then down at something on his screen.
“We may have missed lunch,” Lockwood said. Lucy glanced at the Fitbit on her wrist. The black and grey dial showed the time as 2:30 PM. Has it really been that long? It felt like she’d only sat down in the chair a few minutes ago with her breakfast. She needed to get up and grab food before her 4 PM drawing class. At least her sketch was almost done. She felt like she’d managed to capture his quiet exhaustion and the general ambiance of the nook. His face still eluded her.
Lucy stood, placing her sketch pad on her pile of books. She stretched backward, relishing the little pops between her shoulders.
“Want to grab something from the student center?” Lockwood asked out of nowhere. Lucy hadn’t noticed him standing up. He had started shoving his books into a worn brown leather briefcase. It reminded her of the types of bags her college teachers carried when she was working on her A-levels.
“Sure,” Lucy said, working to pack her own bag, a once blue Jansport she’d had since primary school, the bottom reinforced with cactus-patterned duct tape.
As the pair walked out of the library together, Lucy couldn’t help but wonder if their meeting had been kismet.
She would find out much later that Lockwood was thinking something similar as they walked past the red brick and golden leaves toward the beginning of something neither of them expected.